Wired Differently; Loving The Same
I was diagnosed with ADHD and autism at 41. Typing that still feels strange. On one hand, it explains so much of my life that never made sense. On the other, it breaks my heart a little, because I can’t stop replaying my years as a mum with this new knowledge that I wasn’t “mental” as I had convinced myself I was after being told that for years. The assessment itself was intense; hours of questions that forced me to pick apart who I am. The psychologist noticed things I’d never paid much attention to; how I fiddled with my hair and touched my face when I was anxious, how my words tumbled out too fast, how I apologised constantly, and how harsh I was on myself. She saw me more clearly than I had ever seen myself. Afterwards, I felt both relief and grief - relief that there was finally a name for the way my brain works. But grief for all the years I didn’t know, especially the years raising Fin and Imi. That’s the hardest part. I feel so much guilt when I think about my paren...