The hardest thing I find when sitting down to write these is knowing what to say, or where to even start. There are always so many swirling thoughts, and invariably they’re all variations on themes of struggle, anxiety, and feeling like little (if any) progress forward has been made.

Objectively I know that’s not true, that I’m always learning new things about myself and how I navigate the world, but I think what’s hardest is letting go of any expectations I had for myself, or that others had for me in turn. The reality is that I am just not going to be able to experience the world in the same way as I had once imagined.

On reflection, I still feel a little conflicted about being on Medication for ADHD. While it’s significantly improved my quality of life when it comes to focus and being able to function “normally” for the most part, it’s also removed a lot of the spontaneous behaviours that would’ve sprinkled fun and excitement into my otherwise steady need for routine and structure.

The removal of this spontaneity is likely what has partly contributed to the struggles with anxiety and panic attacks during my time away in Malta this weekend. The other difference of course is in my decision to go sober at the beginning of the year; a drink or two in the past would have removed a lot of the inhibitions that come with crippling self doubt and social anxiety.

In other words, a mask.

Facing up to the reality of this mask wearing and new found self awareness is terrifying. I imagine that trying to remove them will be like attempting to untangle balls of yarn so full of knots that are so tight they’re suffocating, while simultaneously having no idea where the end is so you don’t even know where to start. So many threads all woven together so tightly that unpicking just one reveals another, and another… each individual thread even more tight and knotted than the one before it.

My therapist has talked before about formulation in therapy, likening it to pulling towels stuffed haphazardly into an airing cupboard out onto the floor in order to be able to fold and put them away neatly. In principle I love this idea, but to be honest it feels far too easy, and I’m more worried about this work becoming like tangled balls of yarn instead of folding towels.

The idea of a formal Autism diagnosis always felt like there wouldn’t have been any net benefit, especially as it’s not something that can be “treated” or fixed with medication. It’s not something that I want to be fixed of course, there are plenty of aspects of being Autistic that I really like; like being deeply empathic, approachable and trustworthy, or good at my job and obsessively curious. Rather, I think my hope if I were to seek a formal diagnosis would be to give myself permission to ask for help, rather than trying to do hard things on my own all the time.

Being Autistic doesn’t make me any “less than” for being so. It really is just a different way of seeing the world, and that’s okay.

I don’t need to perform to be valuable.