A Season of Change: Grief, Growth, and Neurodivergence.
It’s been a while since I last posted, and so much has happened in that time.
One of the most significant and heartbreaking events was our beloved dog, Rigby, undergoing life-extending surgery for a malignant sarcoma of the kidney almost five months ago. Since then, we’ve been on a journey of grief, learning how to care for and love him while knowing his time with us was limited. Despite his diagnosis, Rigby continued to live life to the fullest, he enjoying beach walks, running around the garden, and playing with our two-year-old daughter, with whom he shared an incredibly special bond. He celebrated another birthday, Christmas, and New Year with us, filling our home with his love and joy.
Sadly, Rigby’s tumour returned, and over the festive period, his health declined rapidly. Just recently, he crossed the rainbow bridge, leaving an irreplaceable void in our lives. Our home feels emptier, our hearts are heavy, but we are holding onto the love and happiness he brought into our world. Forever wouldn’t have been long enough with him, and we miss him deeply every single day.
At the same time, I have also been navigating another deeply personal journey… coming to terms with being neurodivergent. Even writing that sentence feels strange, after a lifetime of masking my true self. It’s been a process filled with moments of both relief and grief.
I began this journey over a year ago and was referred for an assessment in November 2022. I have since completed the first stage and am awaiting the second. Based on my experiences and extensive research, I strongly suspect I have Autism, previously known as Asperger’s or High-Functioning Autism. The decision to seek a diagnosis didn’t come out of nowhere, I have spent my life feeling different, misunderstood and an outsider. Anxiety has been a constant struggle, something I once believed was the root of my challenges, but I now understand it was only the surface layer of my neurodivergence.
As I’ve delved deeper into the subject, I’ve learned that many of my extended family members (both of my generation and the younger ones) have been diagnosed. Despite our shared experiences, none of us had fully realised the common threads until now. Looking back, it’s baffling to me how I made it 36 years without a diagnosis, despite years of therapy, CBT, medications, and self-care practices that never quite seemed to ease my struggles. The reality is that Autism often presents differently in females, and much of the research and diagnostic criteria are based on the white male stereotype, leaving many of us undiagnosed or misunderstood.
I have also been exploring the possibility of ADHD, which is commonly associated with Autism. Initially, I never considered ADHD as a factor, I had always pictured it as hyperactivity, restlessness, an inability to sit still. But I now understand that ADHD can also manifest as inattentiveness, daydreaming, a mind that never stops racing but doesn’t always show it outwardly. Many of my family members diagnosed with Autism also received an ADHD diagnosis, and it has made me question whether this is something I need to explore further for myself.
Right now, I don’t have a formal diagnosis for either Autism or ADHD, but I know without a doubt that I am neurodivergent and that’s okay. I still have so much to learn and unlearn, to process, to unmask. It’s an ongoing journey, one that has required me to prioritise my mental health above almost everything else (besides motherhood, which remains my greatest joy). This has also led me to reevaluate my career and how I move through the world, making choices that align with how I need to function as a neurodivergent person.
Living on an island has provided a kind of peace and support that I didn’t fully appreciate before. As I continue to navigate this journey, I hope to share more about how this environment helps me thrive and what I’m learning along the way.
For now, I just wanted to be open, honest, and unmasked. If you’re here, I hope you’ll stick around for the journey.
With Love | Lesley-Anne
(Currently grief-stricken, finding ways to smile through the tears, and looking for the joy in endings.)
