For many of us, recognising autism does not happen in childhood. Instead, it often comes later in life — sometimes during burnout, motherhood, relationship changes, perimenopause, or after a child is identified as autistic or ADHD.

Historically, autism research and diagnostic criteria were based largely on how autism presents in boys and men. Because of this, many autistic women and girls were often overlooked, misunderstood, or encouraged to suppress parts of themselves in order to fit in socially.

Many of us become highly skilled at masking from a young age.

Masking can involve:

• copying social behaviours
• rehearsing conversations beforehand
• analysing interactions afterwards
• maintaining eye contact even when it feels uncomfortable
• hiding sensory overwhelm
• carefully studying what feels socially “acceptable”

Often, this happens automatically over time as a way of trying to feel safe, accepted, or less “different.”

Many autistic women describe feeling as though we are performing socially rather than simply existing naturally.

Some of us appear outgoing, sociable, capable, and happy on the outside, while internally feeling anxious, overwhelmed, disconnected, or as though we are constantly trying to work out the “right” way to be.

As someone who was late diagnosed AuDHD myself, I recognise how deeply exhausting this can be. For a long time, I did not realise how much of my life had been shaped by masking and trying to fit in. I often felt on the outside of things — not quite fitting, not fully trusting myself socially, while appearing confident and sociable externally.

Like many neurodivergent women, I learned by observing others closely, copying behaviours, and trying to understand social rules that seemed to come naturally to everyone else.

At the time, I did not understand why certain experiences affected me so deeply. Changes could feel overwhelming, and endings and transitions often felt painful and difficult to let go of. Underneath it all, there was often anxiety, self-doubt, and a growing sense that I was somehow getting life “wrong.”

Many of us live with:

• chronic exhaustion
• anxiety
• perfectionism
• burnout
• sensory overwhelm
• people-pleasing
• intense self-criticism
• feeling disconnected from ourselves

Some of us replay conversations long after they have happened, worrying we said the wrong thing, sounded rude, talked too much, or somehow got the interaction “wrong.”

This ongoing self-analysis can become incredibly draining.

For many of us, recognising autism can feel both relieving and painful.

There may be relief in finally understanding why life has often felt harder than it appeared to for others. But there can also be grief — grief for missed support, years of self-blame, or how much energy has gone into trying to appear “normal.”

Many late diagnosed autistic women spent years believing we were simply ‘too sensitive’, ‘too emotional’, or ‘not trying hard enough’.

Recognising autism later in life is not about becoming someone different. For many of us, it is about understanding ourselves with more compassion and clarity.

Therapy can offer space to explore identity, masking, burnout, relationships, sensory overwhelm, grief, and the emotional impact of discovering neurodivergence later in life.

Therapy is not about changing who we are as autistic people. Instead, it can offer space to understand ourselves more compassionately, recognise what supports our nervous system, and begin building a life that feels more sustainable, authentic, and supportive of the way our brain works.