As a kid, I often felt like an outsider—a square peg being forced into a round hole. At every turn, a teacher or a family member had something critical to say about my behavior.

I'd go home thinking, "What's wrong with me?" and, deep down, I couldn't shake off the sense of being fundamentally different.

It was as if everyone else had received a manual on how to operate in the world that was somehow withheld from me.

Imagine waking up one day and realizing there's a name for the whirlwind of thoughts that have been swirling inside your head your entire life.

Suddenly, all those years of struggling to concentrate, the impulsive decisions, the passions that consume you whole — they all make sense. There's a relief that comes from understanding that you're not broken but just wired a bit differently.

The label of Autism and ADHD, which I took on at 39, wasn't something I wanted for attention or any superficial benefit. It was a key to unlocking my potential, a gateway to a community of like-minded individuals, and a new start.

Accepting and embracing my AuDHD identity was a transformation that many others can experience too. It's not just about personal peace; it's about thriving in environments that we, the neurodivergent, craft to suit our unique minds.

It's about recognizing our intrinsic value and learning techniques to harness the strengths that come with AuDHD, instead of dissipating energy trying to 'fit in'.

What Life Was Like Before the Labels

In my youth, the world seemed like a puzzle, with pieces that refused to fit no matter how hard I tried. The sense of alienation was intense, like being a stranger in your own life.

I've since had so many conversations with other AuDHDers and countless others have described their pre-diagnosis lives in similar terms that I use, a constant struggle to belong and a ceaseless flow of negative messages about their behavior.

I spent years feeling like I was walking on the edge of a precipice, grappling with the fear of falling. Looking back, it's not hard to imagine why I tried to kill myself when I was 16 because I felt like I didn't belong in this world — I was different and broken in some way that I couldn't understand and didn't see that ever getting better.

Most neurodivergent hear more than 20,000 more negative messages about their behavior by the age of 12 than their neurotypical counterparts, and I was no exception. And we're 6 to 10x more likely to exhibit suicidal behaviors and thoughts.

This constant bombardment weighs heavily on a young mind, eroding self-esteem and fueling feelings of inadequacy.

Another reason life was hard before the labels was the constant struggle to understand why things were so different for me.

I didn't have the AuDHD labels, but I had many others instead.

• stubborn or argumentative - ie. you'd make a good lawyer some day

• anxious

• shy or awkward

• rude, rude, or inappropriate

• panicky or nervous wreck

• overly emotional - my dad thought I must be on my period allllll the time and made sure to tell me so every time he thought it

• tomboy or unladylike

• gifted but unfocused

• socially awkward even though I made "friends" easily because my masking let me fit into any social group but I only had a couple of close friends that seemed to understand me

• depressed

• stuck up or goodie-two-shoes because I had a highly overactive sense of justice and wasn't prone to breaking rules and would tell on others when they did

• gullible or naive

• daydreamer

• high-strung or overreactive

• absent-minded and stuck in her own world

• oblivious, out of touch with reality

...and a myriad of terms that felt like ill-fitting clothes.

I was trying to operate in a world that felt alien to me, and I was fighting against my nature, trying to "behave" in ways that were contrary to my natural instincts.

The constant strain led to physical and mental burnout, but it also gave me a resilience that has proved invaluable in my entrepreneurial journey.

However, the most poignant aspect of my pre-label life was the sense of isolation.

Despite easily blending with social groups due to my ability to mask, true friendships were few. The constant need to mask and suppress my natural tendencies left me feeling winded and weary, akin to holding my breath for hours on end.

That's what masking is.

You get told to sit still and be quiet enough and you CAN do it most of the time, but the toll it takes to surpress something natural to you is like holding your breath until you're told you can breathe again.

Maybe it's not so bad for a short periods or occassionally, but if you had to hold your breathe for hours and hours at a job, or in school, while you're working and learning — even if you sneak a breathe every time you get a chance, it's still going to add up.

You're not going to feel good, you're not going to want to be in that situation on a regular basis, you're not going to be as good of a worker or learner.

But if you could be yourself, breathe when you want/need to, you'd be able to function better. So just knowing yourself and what you need and doing it can be so freeing.

In sum, life before the Autism and ADHD labels was a perpetual puzzle, a world painted in shades of confusion, frustration, and isolation.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

The struggles I faced, and the resilience I forged, would ultimately turn into stepping stones, laying the foundation for the entrepreneurial journey I was to embark upon just like the other ADHDers that are 300% more likely to start a business too.

What it Was Like Getting the Labels (at First)

Finding out for the first time that you are Autistic and have ADHD is an overwhelming experience. The realization both unnerves and empowers. This dual diagnosis, at the age of 39 no less, was like a sea change in my understanding of myself.

This initial phase was laden with a mix of emotions - relief, anger, frustration, and above all, a sense of enlightenment. The label gave a language to all my past struggles: my sensitivities were not an anomaly, my unending queries weren't stubbornness, my emotional roller-coasters were not signs of instability.

The labels didn't come with any material benefits.

• Did I do it for the money? No — of course not, you don't automatically get money from anyone for being disabled... and yes, Autism and ADHD are considered disabilities in people when they interfere with a person's ability to work and participate in society but not for milder conditions that don't interfere with funcationality. Personally, I'm able to function, but it does take effort and accommodation and trying to fit into "normal" work situations causes me a whole host of mental and physical problems.

• Did I do it to get more support? No — there is no support for adults. Plus, I have a business, so it's not like I need a doctor's note to ask my boss for accommodations at work. In fact, trying to get myself to give myself accommodations is actually much harder after 4 decades of being "trained to behave" (mask) my symptoms like fidgeting, asking too many questions, being too hyper, etc. And if you're in a situation where you're at work, suspect you're autistic or have ADHD, but don't have a diagnosis, you can still ask for accommodations at work... one of our students has a LOT of really great advice on this and I'd recommend following her... Kristina Proctor... if you're trying to survive in corporate.

• Did I do it for the attention? Of course not!!! I've always been shy and introverted and my symptoms mean getting attention is always a wildcard. Sometimes it's good attention when I'm performing a "party trick" like talking to someone about their business for an hour or two and being able to map out the next decade or two of strategies that will take them from broke to signficant wealth. But most of the time attention is negative when I'm interrupting them, struggling to understand basic concepts, running behind on projects because my executive function isn't functioning, etc. The last thing I want is someone paying to attention to all the ways I'm "messing up" on a daily basis.

These labels, however, offered something far more precious: validation and self-acceptance.

This label of Autism + ADHD explains nearly all of the frustrating experiences I'd in my life!

Plus it gives me the peace of understanding and self-acceptance and LANGUAGE to explain what's happening from my perspective. It helped me find others like me that have similar experiences. It helps me learn who I am and how my brain works and what I can do to accommodate it and function better vs always fighting my brain to try to live up to neurotypical standards.

Yes, it was a relief to finally have words to describe my experiences, but it was also painful and frustrating.

Knowing that I had lived with these conditions unnoticed by professionals, family, and myself for so long brought a wave of anger. I was also hit with a profound sadness for the life that could have been if I had known about my AuDHD earlier.

This is another common experience. Most of the people I've talked to that were late-diagnosed like me had a similar period of grief and acceptance they went through.

My Opinion on Self-Diagnosis vs Professional Diagnosis

The journey to get a formal diagnosis can be a hard and lengthy process. It involves multiple doctor visits, copious amounts of patience, and not to mention, a significant financial investment. It is, therefore, understandable that not everyone has the means or the endurance to undertake this journey.

Self-diagnosis is a valid and at times, a critical first step towards understanding oneself.

It doesn't require a formal diagnosis to make adjustments in your life that accommodate your unique needs. In understanding your neurodivergence and taking steps to adjust your environment to better suit your needs, you're already making significant strides in living a more authentic and fulfilling life.

However, tread with caution.

Sharing your self or professional diagnosis can invite unnecessary scrutiny or stigma. It can impact your employment prospects or even personal life. Yes, we live in a world where being different is still not always understood or appreciated.

The pursuit of my labels had nothing to do with attention, financial benefits, or societal support. It was and is, a means to understand myself better and to finally give myself the grace of acceptance.

Labels gave a language to my experience, a community of like-minded individuals, and most importantly, a path to transform the alienating narrative of my past into the empowering journey of my future.

I believe, like so many others in the community, that self-diagnosis is a great first step for most of us and that the decisions to get a professional diagnosis is personal and it's up to you to decide if you want or need it. Do your own research and see what the professionals have to say about it as well as the lived experiences of people and come to a decision that works for you.

How My Life Was Different After the Labels

Embracing and accepting the labels of Autism and ADHD, as well as doing the necessary work to move past burnout, can dramatically change your life.

The most important thing to understand is that I didn't "want" the label.

I already had it, but I didn't know it was there.

This meant that the only way I could describe my life was through other people's words to describe me... lazy, unfocused, unmotivated, tired, stressed, emotional, overreactive, depressed, etc.

So I'd go to the doctor using THOSE words. I couldn't explain what was happening without the labels... the language... that other people could understand.

Now instead of saying I can't focus, I understand that my interest-based nervous system only kicks in to give me executive functioning if I'm interested in what I'm doing... so no wonder I struggled to do boring things that my neurotypical peers could just sit down and do.

I didn't know why I could focus sometimes and not others... it never occurred to me until I talked to other people like me, with the same neurotype, that had gone through this self-discovery process, that it could be related to the type of task, what was going on in my environment, etc that was impacting me.

How did the labels change my life?

Accepting the Labels

Discovering and accepting my identity as an Autistic person with ADHD came as an unexpected chapter in my life. Initially, I plunged into a torrent of disbelief. Much like an elaborate puzzle, it all started with stumbling upon TikTok videos where people openly discussed their own journeys of diagnosis.

I watched, and much to my surprise, I related — a little too much. In the quiet moments that followed, curiosity began its dance. I dived into research, taking online tests, all with a persistent whisper in the back of my mind chanting, "There's no way; you could not have reached nearly 40 without this surfacing." I was on a mission, but not the one you might assume; I was determined to debunk the possibility, to prove that I did not belong to this narrative.

But life has a knack for irony, and instead of confirmation of my initial skepticism, I gathered evidence, answering long-held questions, that pointed to an undeniable truth — I was indeed Autistic and had ADHD.

It was a complex mix of emotions, where denial first greeted me, then slowly, with each layer of understanding peeled back, came an unexpected guest: relief. To shed the weight of societal expectations, to stop contorting myself into expectations not made for my neurotype, was a freeing experience.

It felt like emerging from a dense fog I hadn't realized I was wandering through. Things clicked into place, painting a clearer picture of my life’s myriad, previously inexplicable struggles.

So, to you, the reader, who might be grappling with a similar quest or pondering whether your unique traits fit into the spectrum of neurodiversity — know that it's okay.

Acceptance is not a rushed process, it does not have to arrive with instant fanfare. My journey started with a skeptical search for answers; now, it continues with a deeper understanding and appreciation for the authentic self I was meant to embrace all along.

Accommodating Yourself

When I finally embraced my AuDHD labels, it was like being handed the keys to a more authentic life. No longer did I have to contort myself to fit into uncomfortable molds. I began to reassess everything through the lens of my unique sensory preferences and neurological needs, making shifts that profoundly improved my daily experience.

• Clothing became the first frontier. I dove into my wardrobe, weeding out anything that scratched, constricted, or otherwise aggravated my senses. The liberation of embracing clothes that felt like a second skin was transformative, shielding me from the constant sensory assault I hadn't even fully realized I was enduring.

• Then came the overhaul of my work environment. I scrutinized my office layout, optimizing for soothing lighting and unhampered movement, aligning everything within an arm's reach for ease and efficiency. Crafting a space tailored to my specific way of functioning was a game-changer for both my comfort and productivity.

• But accommodations weren't just about the physical — it was also about nurturing my personal relationships. I had heart-to-hearts with those closest to me, opening up about my needs with a newfound clarity. Relearning to communicate, peeling off the mask without sliding into discourtesy, was a delicate dance; one that led to deeper connections and a more supportive inner circle.

• Adapting how I structured my days was another major stride. I fine-tuned my schedule to sync with the ebb and flow of my energy and navigated my executive functioning challenges with grace. Embracing tools like timers and reminders became a part of my routine, anchoring me amidst the whirlwind of day-to-day tasks.

Acknowledging my AuDHD meant not just understanding it, but actively reshaping my life to accommodate my distinctive neurology so I could work with my brain instead of fighting it.

Every subtle shift, from reconfiguring my surroundings to revamping my interpersonal exchanges, wove together to create a tapestry of self-compassion and empowerment. With each step, I moved closer to thriving on my own terms.

Embracing Your Identity

Embracing my AuDHD identity was like finding the key to a hidden part of myself that had been shrouded by layers of forced conformity.

For a while, I painstakingly tried to strip back those layers, one by one, seeking the 'real me' underneath all the masking that concealed my true self.

This process was often painful and exhausting, fraught with the realizations of trauma my brain had shielded me from, a history that I knew would take years to fully unravel.

But through this endeavor, my perspective shifted. I realized that rather than delving into the past to find myself, I could shape who I was from the raw potential of the present. I pictured myself as an unformed lump of clay, with the freedom and potential to transform into anything I wished.

The question then became not "Who am I?" with its implication of a static identity hidden beneath layers, but "Who do I want to be?" Understanding that identity is dynamic allowed me to embrace my evolution.

I’ve come to know a few certainties about myself:

• I’m an individual who not only accepts but also celebrates my quirks. I hold dear the values of empathy and kindness, consistently striving to maintain my well-being while respecting the needs of others. I've learned that releasing joy into my life – whether through stimming, dancing, singing, or any expression that fills me with happiness – is not just permissible; it's essential.

• I prioritize fun and recognize that self-care and downtime are not idle indulgences; they are necessary for productivity. Like a machine that needs refueling, I understand that running on an empty tank benefits no one. I’ve let go of societal expectations that do not resonate with me. Early mornings, the rush of punctuality, the traditional workweek – these no longer dictate the terms of my life. I’m comfortable with being occasionally late because it frees me from unnecessary stress.

• As for work, I’ve embraced an unconventional schedule that aligns with my rhythms. Evening or weekend work is no burden when it sits comfortably within the boundaries I’ve set – boundaries that ensure I have ample time for my family and personal pursuits during quieter weekdays or daylight hours when focus eludes me.

On this journey, I’ve learned that identity is not just about uncovering who you’re supposed to be; it’s about consciously creating who you want to become.

So, to you, the reader, embarking on a similar path of self-discovery, remember this: You have the power to sculpt your life in ways that are most authentic and fulfilling to you.

And throughout this process, know that you are accompanied by the profound solidarity of a community that shares your experiences, understands your challenges, and supports your growth.

The Power of Community and Understanding

Are you seeking a community that truly understands you?

Ready to gain a deeper insight into your unique flavor of neuro-spicy neurotypes, discover strategies made just for your distinct way of thinking, and nurture your inner entrepreneur?

Let us warmly welcome you to The Neuro-Spicy Academy.

Here, with an abundance of learning resources and a virtual campus designed for you to explore, you are poised to tap into your undiscovered talents.

Ours is not just a gathering of like-minded individuals; it's a concerted effort to guide you through your business endeavors effortlessly and swiftly towards your freedom.

Welcome to a new phase in your life's adventure!