Autism - To diagnose or not to diagnose that is the question.....

This question is moot of course, given the years it can take to get a diagnosis on the NHS and the cost of going private. In this post, I’ll look at whether a late diagnosis of ADHD or autism helps or hinders an individual. I stress I speak only for myself as my laboratory of one, leaving it up to you to decide where you stand.

I’ve known I’ve always thought differently from most other people. I learned I was unusual, causing me trauma in my formative years. To the point where I seriously considered suicide in my mid-twenties. I’m a reflective person, always curious about my inner mental and emotional workings. However, where once I ruminated and judged, I now ponder, seeking only to understand and accept.

I drew together my life’s conjectures into a simple yet powerful way of seeking more wisdom a little more often. I needed an intuitive system that balanced my emotional and intellectual drivers and reduced my overthinking. This became my Adaptive Intelligence concept. Heart first, then Head and finally Gut – Love & Compassion & values, Creativity & Analysis & Planning, and finally Courage, & Self-worth & Action.

When working in unison something wonderful happens – my decisions are indeed wiser. I feel good about them and myself. I’m leveraging more of my innate Adaptive Intelligence (AQ).?

Four years ago, I began writing a memoir – “Demons to Champions”. My attempt to escape from a self-imposed academic and business cage. As I wrote and reflected on my family’s predisposition to autism and ADHD it became blindingly obvious, I too am autistic.

My daughter had recently been diagnosed as ADHD/autistic at age 23, my brother at 67 and his daughter at 30. My uncle’s daughter is also autistic. As my Mum reaches 94, I see all her masks fall away. Their life paths and experiences were so close to mine. However, when you’re buried deep within an undiagnosed neurodivergent family everything is normal! It’s only when you interact with the outside world, you see that no matter how hard you try, your corners don’t fit in their round holes!?

I considered seeking a diagnosis, but I’d been working in clinically related biomedical science for decades. Doing a lot of teaching medical students, including diagnostic skills. I thought that no matter how expert, the idea of a clinician with no autistic life experience only had a prescribed pattern of symptoms and behaviours with which to assess me. In any case, I had no need for the label “autistic” in my life. Not because I was afraid of it, but because I wasn’t seeking any kind of financial or therapeutic support. I was already retired.

However, my scientific curiosity was piqued so, I completed several of the more respected online neurodiversity surveys and all of them placed me squarely in the autistic range, with a high likelihood of also being ADHD. Now, we can spend time arguing about the strengths and weaknesses of individual surveys, but the fact of the matter was if they had all said, “You’re neurotypical “, I would have accepted that. They didn’t they all said “neurodivergent”.

The acid test was when I “came out” a couple of months later to Mel my wife and Phoebe my daughter. Phoebe exclaimed, “No shit Sherlock!” and ran across the room to give me a huge hug. Mel was more measured but was completely supportive, and still is.?

Whilst chatting a few weeks later with the brilliant Joyce Coomber-Sewell, a coach who is autistic, she said, “You should get a diagnosis so younger people can see that you can be autistic and live a successful life.” I get her point. It’s powerful. However, I feel it’s always better to show not tell.

As a result, this article, my blog and now my book “Demons to Champions” are just that, exercises in showing what my neurodivergent life was and is like, warts and all. There’s no point in hiding anything. Contemplating suicide came about I believe, because I was too scared to share my inner battles with anyone. They festered. I learned to be ashamed because of the way my mind operated. The speed at which ideas flooded my brain and my compulsion to share everything I learned.

The more I’ve opened up, the more people see that being neurodivergent is OK. Showing the beauty of our minds is the right thing to do. We don’t need to be cured. Some will need drugs and or therapy to overcome the greatest mismatches between them and the world they are forced to live in, but many will not.

Yes, there will be intolerance and prejudice. People will sideline us through their ignorance. And yet, working in tune with our neurodivergent strengths and practising their power, we will find much of the peace we crave, and some of the success we’re due.?

As I said, this is my story and my decision not to seek a diagnosis. In no way, do I preach that diagnosis should be avoided. It is vital for some people and is very much a personal choice. One I have no right to try to influence either way. Except to say, if you do seek a diagnosis for your child or yourself, be absolutely sure why you want it, and understand what it means to be identified as neurodivergent in an as yet largely ignorant and often hostile society.

The advantage of being older when I had my “neurodivergent awakening” was that I could handle the truth and find meaning in it. Being aware means I can forgive myself and others for historical trauma, and use my new understanding to carve a path based on my strengths, rather than attempting to fill in my previously perceived weaknesses or deficits.

I have no excuse for not being my complete self. Warts and all!