As you’ll be well aware by now, last September, I was diagnosed as autistic. This didn’t come as a shock—I’d spent the past few years trying to understand my brain better and recognising what made it different. But what did surprise me was being asked during my autism assessment whether I was also on a waiting list for an ADHD diagnosis. Several of my answers—particularly around how I relax and my sleep patterns—suggested I might have a second neurodevelopmental disorder.
Luckily, thanks to the NHS’s Right to Choose scheme, I was able to get referred for an ADHD assessment and receive a diagnosis within six months. (Much better than the previous four-and-a-half-year wait, eh?) Apparently, around 70% of autistic people also have ADHD, and it turns out I’m one of them. Last Monday, medical professionals confirmed that I have combined inattentive and hyperactive ADHD, classified as moderate. This means it isn’t completely debilitating, but it still affects my life in multiple ways.
Trying to explain what it’s like to be both autistic and ADHD is difficult—I’m not great at explaining my feelings at the best of times—but the simplest way I can describe it is that my brain is constantly playing tug-of-war with itself. The autistic part of me craves structure and routine to function with minimal stress… but the ADHD part gets bored easily and needs to shake things up to stay engaged. (That said, if someone else messes with my routine, there’s hell to pay!) The ADHD side also makes me say ‘yes’ to everything and overload myself with activities because I crave a sense of productivity… but the autistic side gets overwhelmed quickly and struggles to find the motivation to even get off the sofa and eat if I’ve given myself too much to do.
It’s exhausting. No wonder I’ve spent my entire adult life feeling like I’ve been living on Hard Mode. I genuinely thought it was normal to have a million thoughts running at once, as well as a constant radio playing songs in my head. I thought everyone felt completely drained by midweek when working full-time and needed to retreat to bed at 8 pm on a Wednesday just to cope.
It’s also no wonder that I had to quit my job last year due to burnout. As I’ve said before, simply existing in a world designed for neurotypical people is exhausting. And I’m angry with myself for not being able to soldier on like I used to. But now that I understand how my brain works—how it’s constantly at war with itself—I realise I physically can’t go back to how I used to be. Society expects adults to work full-time, maintain a relationship, keep a tidy home, nurture friendships, have a social life and still find time for hobbies. I’ve somehow managed to juggle all of that for most of my life, but only now do I realise how much it has cost me.
The good news is that I finally have answers. I have not one, but two neurodevelopmental disorders, and I have had them my entire life. And while I still carry a lot of anger and sadness that these weren’t picked up on years ago—at a time when the support I desperately needed could have helped shape my future—it’s a relief to finally understand that there was never anything ‘wrong’ with me. My brain simply functions differently. To survive in a world that wasn’t built for people like me, I have to set boundaries.
Receiving my ADHD diagnosis wasn’t as emotional for me as my autism diagnosis, but it was just as important. It’s helped me unpack my quirks and understand why existing in this world has always been so challenging. It also gives me the option of trying medication—something that could finally quiet my brain and help me focus when my thoughts are usually pulling me in multiple directions at once. I’m still figuring it all out, but now that I have both of my diagnoses, I can finally get the support I missed out on earlier in life. I may be 36 years old with no idea what the hell my purpose is or where I’m heading, but for the first time in a long time, I’m trying to be more positive about the future. Autism and ADHD aren’t things that hold me back—they shape my personality, my interests, my relationships. And I’m done seeing them as obstacles. It’s time to start using them to thrive.