How To Go From Zero To Autistic In Three Months: An AuDHD Origin Story
My journey from burnout to Autism diagnosis
Hi, my name is Shawn, I’m a 47-year-old late-diagnosed Autistic. I was diagnosed in January of 2024, so I’m still a freshy. The diagnosis joined my lifelong diagnosis of ADHD, making me what some refer to colloquially as AuDHD. While researching Autism, I could never find a story I identified completely with, which made it more difficult to see in myself. By sharing my story, I hope to offer insights that might help others like me.
Before I weave my magical tale, let me set the stage and tell you why, after 47 years, I find myself writing about my Autistic experience. Based on purely anecdotal evidence I’ve acquired during my research, the two most common paths that seem to lead someone down the path to an Autism diagnosis this late in life are:
- A child is diagnosed with Autism, thus leading the parent to a moment that goes something like “Um, this Autism thing sounds a lot like me too…wait a minute…”
- Ever-diminishing capacity to handle life’s bullshit is exceeded, and burnout ensues, thus leaving many questions, like “What in hell is wrong with me?!” and “I just spent the entire day on the couch, why do I feel like I just ran a marathon?”.
- Bonus: A reader like yourself clicks on an article on how someone “became” Autistic in three short months and finds themselves identifying with a lot of things. That leads to another article, then a YouTube video, and the next thing a person knows, they’re a card-carrying member.
As I have no children, clearly, my path to an Autism diagnosis was option number two, and with that, we begin.
Stupid Burnout Is Stupid
In the winter of 2022, my trusted mentor at work suffered a tragic family loss. I was devastated; it sent me into a dark place I still haven’t fully recovered from, but probably not for the reasons you might think (a story for another day). It was a really tough few months, but I was able to keep busy over that summer with a couple of huge challenge bike rides (Special Interest®), a promotion at work, and some big projects at home, all of which helped.
But then it happened: in the Fall of ’22, I hit the wall, my pace at work slowed, my fitness routine slowed, everything slowed. I lost my sharp eye for detail and the motivation that got me where I am. In short, I burnt out hard.
I struggled all through the winter to overcome this stubborn burnout morass without a lot of success. Luckily, the Spring of ’23 brought back some of the ahem spring in my step. I finally felt a bit more normal, though I was still well off my pace at work, I still couldn’t really get motivated to do much outside my Minimum Viable Day® (Do the absolute minimum required to call it a successful day) workload. I did my best to keep my workload lower than in the past to try and prevent a relapse of the Great Burnout of ’22.
As you may have guessed, that didn’t happen. I burnt out again, harder this time, despite a much lower workload and no major personal events. This is alarming enough on its own, but this time, the burnout also added a new symptom to the already long list of degraded skills.
When Things Go Sideways
My awesome wife works as a CrossFit coach. One day, I was at the gym where she coaches, suffering through a workout, as you do in CrossFit, and I got stuck under a bench press. I called for help, which she didn’t hear as she was busy working with someone else. Then the monster came out, I screamed for her help with my angry voice. Jump forward a couple of weeks when she and I were doing a partner workout (we shared the work, I did some, she did some), and as we were nearing the end, I told her how many reps we had left. She didn’t hear me and asked “What?”, a perfectly reasonable question, to which the monster replied again, loudly, with many other people around.
She was understandably quite upset. I had now twice, in public, at her place of employment, very embarrassingly yelled at her. That was not me. We have been married for over 15 years, and like most long-time married couples, we will snip at each other occasionally when one or both of us are grumpy, but this was not that; this was not normal. The manner and circumstances in which my temper manifested demonstrated a loss of control, the new symptom, an admittedly scary one.
While she was upset, I felt absolutely terrible. How could I have lost control in front of others like this? More generally, why was I having so many difficulties at work and now in my personal life? The strangest thing, though, is I couldn’t describe what it felt like. There were simultaneously too many emotions and no emotion at all. Can you describe how you’re feeling in this instant? Most of the time, my answer to that question is confusion and awkward silence (Alexithymia®).
After we had a chance to talk about the situation, she hit me with the big one: “You have not been yourself; I know this is not you. I think you should consider talking to someone”. When your partner of 15 years drops something like that on you, you schedule the appointment. I found a therapist who specializes in depression, grief, and anger issues.
The Therapeutic Thunderclap
I had never seen a therapist other than when I was diagnosed with ADHD, but that wasn’t the same. That therapist checked off boxes and then prescribed me medicine. This time was a different experience; my new therapist was a lovely person and a delight to talk to. She listened and asked thought-provoking questions, which often caught me off guard. I have to say it’s pretty nice being able to talk to someone whose only agenda is helping you through whatever issues you are facing. The first session was mainly focused on getting to know each other a bit and her understanding what issue(s) I was facing. It was a great first session, so I scheduled another.
The second session changed my life. It was November 11th, 2023 and about ten minutes in, I was explaining an aspect of the culture at my job. My company emphasizes collaboration and consensus building. We work hard to make sure everyone agrees with a solution before we move ahead; there is rarely the “big boss” passing down decisions from on high. Most of the time, this is great, but as I told my therapist, “Sometimes I don’t want to have to come up with extra options; I know what I’m doing, I know the answer to the problem, we don’t have to take five meetings to discuss it and align on what I already know we are going to do, I just want to execute” (Rigid Thinking®). After I said that, she asked me the life-changing question:
Have you ever been tested for being on the Spectrum?
Or, as I’ve later learned is really therapist-ese for:
You sound Autistic AF, you should get tested
After my ears stopped ringing from the incredibly loud thunderclap, my therapist explained rigid thinking, a common Autistic trait, but we didn’t discuss it any further. However, the seed had been planted, so after the session, I did some reading on rigid thinking and then, more broadly, on Autism. Then I found it, I heard it, a bell rang so loudly in my head, “Autistic Special Interests.” As I mentioned, I’ve lived my whole life with an ADHD diagnosis, and while that largely explained a lot, it never completely fit.
ADHD folks seem to have this transient quality of hyper-fixations/focus, and interests last a few hours to a few days. While I definitely do this, I also have specific interests that last a looong time and that I learn in great depth. My fascination with gadgets, big and small, has been with me all my life. My career in tech has been 20+ years and there are numerous other multi-year interests, interests that were intense and all-consuming (Unusual Intensity®). I can always fall back on my current Special Interest in times of stress, boredom, or just times of sweet solitude; they ground me. As I read more about special interests, I found was reading a core aspect of myself described in detail by multiple strangers, all Autistic. That was the first time the thought ran through my mind: “Damn, I think I might be Autistic.”
Release The Clarity Kraken!
I’d like to clear up a previous statement: I don’t just do “some reading” on things that pique my interest, no, no. A more accurate description would be “ferociously consume all media available.” I watched hundreds of YouTube videos, read even more Medium articles, and tore through thirty+ books all in the space of a couple of months (Need for Clarity®). All of that was still not enough detail for the Clarity Kraken. It wasn’t until I started reading books written for therapists to diagnose Autism that I finally got enough detail to see the full picture (Bottom Up Thinking®).
I documented everything, anything that I thought relevant, traits, examples, health history, you name it. It started in Apple Notes, and then moved to a Google Doc; it was five pages, then eight, and suddenly twenty-two. I didn’t want to forget anything, and I wanted to make sure I was prepared for an assessment. I named it My AuDHD Origin Story.
The Assessment
With all my research in hand, I felt I had enough to justify a formal assessment. Turns out, it is incredibly difficult and frustrating to find a therapist who will do an adult diagnosis of Autism. There are so many things to navigate.
- How much does it cost? (a lot)
- How long till the next available appointment? (eternity)
- Do they use a neuroaffirming approach? (required)
- Is it covered by insurance? (No)
- Are there insurance ramifications of a positive diagnosis? (Yes)
…
36. Ugh! (Seriously, ugh)
Given all the obstacles and unanswered questions, I was overwhelmed. I then read a great article by Dr. Devon Price on Autism self-identification, and I convinced myself to live with a self-identification, at least for the near term.
But Lady Luck had another plan for me. That same day, a therapist who specializes in late-diagnosed Autistics, who I follow religiously on Medium, mentioned that she had a couple of openings. While I was happy with my current therapist, I jumped at the chance to work with an Actually Autistic therapist whose writings had already taught me so much. I scheduled my first appointment with her that instant.
She doesn’t know this, but coming into our first meeting, I was actually quite nervous and a little star-struck after having read so much of her work and now getting the chance to work with her! As it turns out, it was worth it; she is awesome! I’m aware of my crazy good luck in this regard—two great therapists in a row. Many autistics spend a lifetime looking for just one who can help them while being mistreated and misdiagnosed along the way.
One month later, after reading my Origin Story and going over every detail along with many of her own questions over multiple sessions, she was ready to share her findings. Before that session though, I messaged her that I was really nervous that I would second guess the result.
One thing I’ve always been adept at is tests. For whatever reason, I can usually “beat” them. Even when I don’t know the subject, I can often still walk away with a good result. The diagnosis seemed even more susceptible because the subject matter was me. Did I bend the facts to get a diagnosis (Imposter Syndrome®)?
On January 26th, not long after my 47th birthday, and as promised, a little under three months from when it all started with that fateful question. We started the session, and it was clear she was prepared. She had numerous observations that were not in my Origin Story, and more than that, the observations validated my story. So, the big moment came, and she said it officially, and I believed her:
Shawn, there are some clients I work with that are borderline, or perhaps shades of gray, that’s not you, you are definitely Autistic
My Hope Cemetery
Hearing those words meant so much. Tremendous pressure had built up from all the research and hope, the hope that came with Autism. A diagnosis could explain so many of my recent issues as well as so much more of my past than just ADHD. It’s so hard to describe the feeling when a simple statement, “You are definitely Autistic,” validates a lifetime of difficulties, of being called lazy, of not living up to my potential, of being a misfit.
A huge jumble of emotions hit me; initially, it was a sense of relief and a feeling of lightness, like the feeling you get from setting down a heavy backpack after a long hike. Next came the sadness and grief for mini-me. While things still wouldn’t have been easy for me growing up, knowing more about how my brain functioned could have only helped. That said, I now know the problem I’ve been trying to solve, that ever illusive thing always just out of reach, that I could never quite grasp. Turns out it wasn’t a problem at all; I’m just wired differently. Knowing that gives me so much joy and hope for Future Me.
It‘s not lost on me that it’s more than a little ironic that an Autism diagnosis, with all the stigma and misunderstanding, brings me hope and joy for the future. This contradiction makes me think of a picture I captured of “Hope Cemetery” in Vermont:
Autism is my Hope Cemetery, a place where hope rises from adversity. It’s where all my misconceptions, struggles, and fears are put to rest, while acceptance of who I am, my hope for the future, and the joy from just being myself rise from the ashes.
The Checkered Flag
Thanks for sticking it out through this story. I hope it was helpful, entertaining, or positive in some way. But if it wasn’t, at least you got to experience what happens when an Engineering Manager tries to write!
While my Origin Story is just getting started, I would like to take this moment to preemptively apologize and ask for forgiveness when Mr. ADHyDe (more on him in another story) takes the wheel, and I suddenly stop posting without warning. I’m really sorry about that; he is an asshole; what can I say?
(Registered Trademark®): This is my silly way of calling out potential Autistic traits in my stories. As I’m no expert in Autism, or myself for that matter, I’m highlighting them in this way so that you can more easily dig into those aspects yourself.
