“You are Autistic.”

I leapt from my chair. Something heavy fell from my chest to my stomach - something I had no idea I had been holding. I can only describe it as though I had been floating in space, and suddenly, I crashed into the earth. Tears knocked behind my eyes.

Do you know what I said next?

“Are you sure though?”

Naturally, I doubted it. I’ve learnt to second-guess myself. Thoughts came rushing in:

What if I’ve faked it? Autism is often in the news these days - what if I’ve learnt the traits and acted them out? What if I wanted this so much, I’ve somehow fooled them all?

Many late diagnosed autistic adults know this feeling well. Years of masking autism can leave you questioning your own reality.

Let’s be honest - most of us are great maskers. It’s not too hard a stretch to think we’ve even masked our Autism from ourselves. That’s a scary thing - to mask so much that even when faced with a true aspect of yourself, it feels like another disguise. I just didn’t believe it.

“No, no. You are Autistic. You can read all about it in my report - but you are Autistic.”

But there we were.

I thanked her, hung up the phone, and carefully found my way to the floor. I just needed to feel the ground holding me as my mind started playing a film of my life in my head.

I saw old memories I already knew, but they looked different now. As though they were in colour for the first time. Suddenly, old questions had answers, and old feelings that were once labelled irrational were now perfectly reasonable.

The more I thought, the more puzzle pieces joined together.

Sensory overwhelm. Autistic burnout. School avoidance. Panic attacks. Missed social cues. Exhaustion after conversations. Feeling “too sensitive”. Feeling different without knowing why.

It was all happening so fast I felt my head might explode, as though I was seeing myself clearly for the very first time.

What came next was grief.

I grieved for my younger self, who had spent years feeling broken compared to everyone else. I grieved opportunities and relationships I had missed or unknowingly sabotaged. I felt sadness, anger, relief, confusion, and disappointment all at once - emotions too tangled to fully name.

Because the truth is, so much of that pain might have softened with understanding. If I had known I was Autistic earlier, maybe I would have shown myself more compassion. Maybe others would have understood me too.

And I am just 30 years old - what about you? 20? 40? 50? 60? People think our journey stops with the diagnosis, but instead a new door opens - part of it being the grief for the years spent surviving without answers. Knowing there are others like me out there helps - but it still does not give us yesterday back.

There is time that feels lost, and it can feel unbearably heavy to carry that alone.

As a Counsellor who supports neurodivergent clients, I now sit with many people who are beginning this same journey - people questioning whether they might be Autistic, processing a late diagnosis, or trying to recover from years of masking and burnout.

And honestly? Most of them are not looking for someone to “fix” them.

They are looking for somewhere they no longer have to pretend.

Somewhere they can untangle years of self-doubt, confusion, shame, exhaustion, and grief with someone who genuinely understands how deep those experiences can go.

If you are reading this whilst feeling like you're different, Autistic or otherwise, I want you to know this:

You are not broken.
You are not failing at being a person.
And you do not have to figure it all out alone.

There is space for you here - exactly as you are. Contact me today to find out more. 

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Please note I am not an emergency service. If you or someone you know is in immediate danger or at risk, see services below:

SAMARITIANS: 116 123

Text 'SHOUT' to 85258 for 24/7 confidential support in the UK

Call 999 or contact your local GP/services