It often starts with a spark—a moment of recognition. Maybe you’re scrolling through a late-night forum, listening to a podcast, or watching a video where someone describes their life, and it feels uncomfortably familiar. Words like “autism,” “ADHD,” or “neurodivergence” leap off the screen and settle in your chest. Could this be me?
If you’re here, perhaps you’ve been wondering, questioning, or even resisting. You might feel a mix of hope and unease—a swirl of emotions that can feel hard to name. Let’s explore this journey together.
Learning I was neurodivergent was like finding a key to a room I’d locked myself out of my whole life. It was disorienting at first but ultimately freeing.
For many discovering or suspecting neurodivergence is like finally finding the missing piece of a lifelong puzzle. It’s the realization that what you’ve experienced isn’t wrong—it’s just different. You might reflect on:
In this stage, relief is common. There’s a word for this! It’s not just me! But alongside that relief, doubt can creep in. What if I’m just making excuses? What if I’m wrong? These doubts are normal. They reflect years of internalized expectations and a world that often pathologizes difference. Pause here. Let yourself sit with the possibility—what if this new understanding could lead to freedom?
Recognition can bring unexpected grief. You might grieve the years spent struggling without answers, wondering how life could have been different with earlier understanding or support. It’s okay to feel sad, even angry.
Grief is an act of honoring your past self—the one who survived, coped, and adapted with the tools they had. Allow yourself the space to feel this loss while also acknowledging the strength it took to get here.
Once you start exploring neurodivergence, it can feel like opening floodgates. There are terms to learn, communities to navigate, and questions about whether to pursue a formal diagnosis or self-identify. This stage can bring:
Remember: you don’t need to have all the answers at once. Let this be a process of discovery, not a race to certainty. What would it feel like to move forward at your own pace?
As you settle into this understanding, you may begin to reframe your life through a new lens. Behaviors you once criticized in yourself—like procrastination, zoning out, or intense focus on specific interests—may now appear as natural expressions of your neurodivergence.
But embracing this identity isn’t always straightforward. You might:
I’d like to invite you to give yourself permission to be in flux. Identity isn’t a static destination; it’s an evolving story. What parts of your narrative feel truest to you right now?
Over time, this journey can bring clarity, self-compassion, and even joy. You might:
This is a time for self-discovery. What strengths have you overlooked because they didn’t fit traditional expectations? What do you want to nurture in this next chapter of your life?
This journey is not linear, and is not necessarily completed. You may go over some of the steps at different periods of your life. Wherever you are on this path—whether just starting to suspect or years into embracing—your experience is valid. This journey isn’t about labeling yourself for others; it’s about finding a lens that helps you see yourself more clearly.
Consider this: What if discovering your neurodivergence isn’t just about understanding your past but also about reclaiming your future? What would it look like to live in a way that feels not just manageable, but meaningful?
You are not alone. And this is just the beginning.
