Diagnosis Story 7: Stumbling into diagnosis

Today’s diagnosis story comes straight from the dark recesses of the internet. The Author has requested to remain anonymous due to the legitimate fear of damage to professional reputation working in the mental health field. Unfortunately, this is a story I’ve heard often. Anecdotally, it seems the types of jobs where it is LEAST safe to disclose are those of health professionals.

“It helped me realize I am not alone.”

Anonymous Diagnosis Story:

Continue reading


Diagnosis Story 6: I was right all along

Today’s story comes from Chris in Santa Fe. Chris is an artist who wasn’t officially diagnosed until age 44.

We’ve got 50 gazillion things telling us what’s wrong: you didn’t, you don’t etc…. For me that all goes away when I interact with 1 thing that feels right.

Here’s a picture of a cheeseburger I made a cat face on

Chris’ Diagnosis Story: Continue reading

Diagnosis Story 3: I always felt there was more to it

Today’s guest diagnosis story comes from 26 year old Maggie.

visit Maggie’s blog here



“While the 10 or so different diagnoses I’ve received over the years have indeed been mostly valid and descriptive of what I was experiencing at the time, I always felt that there was more to it. More than being mostly introverted. More than being anxious. More than being highly sensitive.” Continue reading

Diagnosis Story 2: Awfully Awakened: And so, I’m on the Autism Spectrum

Today’s diagnosis story comes from Atomic Blondie, an X-files nerd, retro fashion fan, and enthusiastic gym goer from the U.S. who grew up with Autism, but without knowing it. How did she come to discover the Autism Spectrum?
You can read her story here:

Awfully Awkward

And so, I exhaled, “I’m Autistic”.

No, I didn’t say it. I exhaled it–a deep breath drawn in more than 30 years ago.  That which I had unknowingly taken in and hidden within me for decades, I was finally now free to release. Once an unwilling master of concealment, I may now become a truth–an imperfect, broken truth, but a truth nevertheless. A broken thing becoming a something.

I’ve always been Autistic; I just didn’t know it—clinically, medically—until very recently. What I did know about myself from a very early age was that my elementary school peers dismissed me as “socially retarded”, “weird”, “awkward”, “rude”, “crazy” and just about any other unkind term their minds could concoct or distort. I dreamed, though, of hearing only one word uttered in my general direction: my name. I just wished to have someone call me by my actual name.

While my peers engaged…

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