Figuring out or confirming you’re on the spectrum at thirty is weird. There’s a part of me that still feels like a “phony” because I haven’t had an official official diagnosis. But I trust my therapist when she says I’m on the spectrum and masking.

Part of what feeds into that phony feeling is knowing that the spectrum comes with a variety of challenges, and I guess feeling bad that I’ve adapted and adjusted while others struggle and suffer.

I guess that’s related to my struggle to admit that what’s “made me stronger” was actually a struggle I shouldn’t have had to bear. Or at least not one I had to bear alone, and uninformed.

I will say though, it’s wild evaluating your past and starting to actually see the signs of “oh man, how did I not know I was on the spectrum in this moment?!”