Hello! My name is Sarah, and I’m writing this story with great uncertainty about the impact it will have on my life. This is the first time I am sharing my journey with autism and ADHD—often called AuDHD.
Reaching my diagnosis was an arduous experience, and I hope that telling my story will make it easier for others to tell their own stories so they can be better understood and accepted.
As a child, I could sleep for up to 14 hours and still wake up feeling tired. I was shy, socially nervous, and I held a lot of frustration inside myself. I picked at my skin when overwhelmed. My appetite was also minimal and inconsistent.
The doctors ran all sorts of tests—blood work, ultrasounds, EKGs, and a stress test. The doctors seemed to run out of ideas, and they sent me on my way. My parents were trying to be supportive of my reported challenges, but what else could they do at that point?
The hardest part wasn’t the lack of answers but the resulting doubt in my own reality. I learned the word hypochondriac on Google and started to believe that word described me.
*Hypochondriac: “a person who continuously worries about their health without having any reason to do so.” Cambridge Dictionary. “Hypochondriac.” @CambridgeWords, 22 Oct. 2025, dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/english/hypochondriac. Accessed 23 Oct. 2025.
Four years ago, I began working with children with developmental disabilities. The kids helped me understand and accept myself better. I started to wonder if I could be autistic.
Initially, fear held me back—I feared that talking to a psychiatrist would lead to more dismissal. I frequently scheduled, rescheduled, and canceled appointments, oscillating between certainty and doubt that my challenges were worth addressing.
During a routine check up, a new physician was reviewing my medical history. She asked me if my history of anxiety had been fully addressed. She was the first doctor that had ever cared to talk to me about my medical history instead of just reading the charts. I told the doctor, “I don’t think that my anxiety is just anxiety.” Without further questions, she provided a psychiatric referral.
Within 15 minutes of my first appointment with a psychiatrist, I was recommended an evaluation for autism spectrum disorder. After receiving the results of the assessment (Autism and ADHD) it felt like everything and nothing changed.
The symptoms stumping many doctors finally made sense, reframed as hypersensitivity, sensory aversions, autistic burnout, and resistance to change and transitions.
If I chose to never tell anyone about the news, no one would be the wiser. But I had already spent most of my life trying to stretch myself to fit into a box that felt impossible to fill. Instead, I began a journey of embracing my neurodivergence, advocating for acceptance as I am, and learning from the greater neurodivergent community.
As I started sharing my diagnosis with close friends and colleagues, many opened up with questions regarding their neurotypes. A common question that stemmed was, “What’s the point of getting assessed as an adult?”
For me personally, a diagnosis provided a single answer to many questions I have asked about myself. But that is just what my path was, and everyone’s path is unique.
To anyone contemplating the value of an assessment or diagnosis, I want to emphasize that your feelings and struggles are valid. Regardless of your path—whether you pursue a diagnosis or not—know that you deserve support and acceptance as you are.
The Point of Divergence 
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