Getting My Autism Diagnosis at 37: From Denial to Acceptance

April is often referred to as Autism Awareness Month, but awareness alone has never been enough. What we truly need is acceptance, an understanding that autism is real and not something to be “cured” or “fixed,” but a different neurotype that deserves respect and accommodation.

So, in the spirit of acceptance, I’m sharing my story.

The Long Road to Diagnosis

In August last year, after two years of waiting (and years of deep suspicion), I was officially diagnosed as autistic at the age of 37. For a long time, I lived in a strange limbo of part denial, part certainty. The idea first entered my mind years ago, but I brushed it aside. Surely, I wasn’t autistic? I didn’t look autistic, or at least, I didn’t fit the outdated stereotypes I had in my head. It took time (and a lot of unlearning) to realise that autism isn’t linear, and the idea that I wasn’t “autistic enough” was rooted in ignorance, not reality.

Diagnosis isn’t as simple as people assume. It’s not just a questionnaire or a quick appointment, it’s a multi-step process that can take years. For me, it started with a GP visit where I was asked to go away and make a list of all the reasons I thought I might be autistic. When I returned with it, I was referred for an assessment. What followed over the next two years was:

• Multiple forms and questionnaires

• A 1-hour screening call

• More questionnaires

• A final 2-hour, in-person assessment with observed tasks and discussions, carried out by three trained professionals.

By the time my diagnosis came, it wasn’t just confirmation… it was clarity. My entire life suddenly made sense.

The Diagnosis That Made Everything Click

It wasn’t until I became pregnant and later stepped into motherhood that my traits became undeniable. The exhaustion of masking, the sensory overwhelm, the struggles with executive function, it all intensified. There was no more pretending. No more “pushing through.”

The psychologist noted I also had traits of ADHD and OCD, but that autism was overwhelmingly prevalent. I was told I could pursue further diagnoses, but they would be superfluous to my autism diagnosis. I remember feeling strangely overwhelmed by that report. I had spent years trying to “fix” myself, thinking if I just tried this or that, I could shake the constant anxiety, burnout, and exhaustion.

Now, I had to face the truth: there was nothing to fix. This was simply who I was.

The Reality of Diagnosis

When I was first diagnosed, I read Odd Girl Out by Laura James. I was struck by how often she ended up hospitalised after her diagnosis, struggling with physical health issues. At the time, I thought it was just a personal anecdote. But then, the same thing happened to me. My physical health plummeted. It was as if my body, finally given permission to stop pushing, just stopped. Suddenly, I understood why Laura was so physically ill after her diagnosis too.

At first, the diagnosis sent me into a spiral. But over time, I realised I had been looking at it all wrong. I wasn’t broken. I had spent my whole life trying to squeeze myself into a box that was never meant for me.

My diagnosis gave me permission I didn’t know I needed, to step out of that box, to stop performing, and to just be.

The Stigma, the Misconceptions, and the Deniers

Before I entered the world of autism, I had no idea how much stigma surrounded it. The number of misconceptions is staggering:

• That autism only presents in childhood (many of us go undiagnosed for decades)

• That autistic people lack empathy (when in reality, many of us feel too much)

• That all autistic people struggle in the same ways (it’s a spectrum, not a straight line)

• That if you can “function” in society, you’re not really autistic (masking doesn’t mean it’s easy, it just means we’ve adapted - at a cost)

• That autism has to coincide with a visible learning disability or developmental delay. Many people don’t realise that you can be highly intelligent, even hyper-linguistic, and still be autistic. Being articulate doesn’t cancel out difficulties with executive function, sensory processing, or social dynamics.

And then, of course, there are the deniers. The people who roll their eyes and say, “Everyone’s a little autistic these days.” Or, “Autism didn’t exist when I was a kid.” The ones who believe it’s just an overused label or, worse, an excuse.

For autistic women and girls, this disbelief is even worse. For decades, we were overlooked, dismissed, or misdiagnosed. The diagnostic criteria were built around boys, and so many of us grew up without answers, left to wonder why life felt so much harder for us than it seemed to be for everyone else.

How Autism Often Presents in Women and Girls

Autistic women and girls often present differently from the classic (male-centred) model of autism. Some common traits include:

• Masking and social mimicry: studying people and imitating their behaviour to fit in.

• Extreme sensitivity: to noise, textures, emotions, and social dynamics.

• Internalised struggles: we may experience shutdowns, dissociation, or anxiety.

• Obsessive interests: often deep and detailed, but not always in stereotypical “male” areas like trains or numbers.

• Burnout and exhaustion: from years of masking and pushing through.

• Difficulties with friendships: struggling to maintain peer relationships, often preferring deep one-on-one connections or adult company (as children).

• A strong sense of justice: often deeply empathetic and affected by unfairness or suffering.

• Struggles with executive function: difficulty starting or switching tasks, organising, and remembering things.

Owning My Diagnosis

Understanding how autism presents differently in women has been one of the most validating parts of this journey. It explains so much, especially why I was able to fly under the radar for so long and why I’ve always felt a disconnect between how I present outwardly and how I feel inside. Temple Grandin describes this in her book The Autistic Brain as the Thinking Self and the Acting Self - the internal experience of being autistic versus the outward performance required to navigate a neurotypical world. That disconnect, I now realise, is why certain aspects of life that seem effortless for others have always been a struggle for me.

Getting my diagnosis hasn’t changed who I am, but it has changed how I see myself. Instead of constantly pushing against my own nature, I’m learning to work with it. I’m allowing myself:

✔ The rest I need

✔ The routines that help me function

✔ The space to embrace my interests without shame

I no longer feel the pressure to keep up with a neurotypical world that was never built for me in the first place.

Most importantly, I’ve stopped trying to prove myself to people who don’t understand.

I know who I am now. And for the first time in my life, that feels like enough.

Til Next Time | Lesley-Anne