When Everything Finally Made Sense: Late diagnosis, Perimenopause, and learning to stop blaming myself.

Hilary's Story.

I was 47 years old when I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.

Forty-seven.

By that point, I had spent most of my life knowing something wasn’t quite right, but never being able to fully explain it. I could function, until I couldn’t. I could cope, until the coping mechanisms became exhausting. I became an expert at masking, overthinking, and blaming myself for things that now make so much more sense.

For years, I knew I was 'different' and just not the same as other people. There were times when I thought I was failing at being an adult. Then came the bipolar diagnosis, and honestly, it explained a lot, but not everything.

Even after getting a late diagnosis, there was still a nagging feeling that there was more going on underneath it all. I started reading a lot. Research, NHS information, lived experiences, forums, books, articles. I’m very self-aware, sometimes painfully so, and I wanted to understand my own brain fully for the first time in my life.

I have always been 'forgetful.' I’m completely time blind. I underestimate how long everything takes. I lose hours without noticing. I can’t get out of the house without forgetting at least one important thing. Keys, phone, paperwork, sometimes all of them. My brain feels like twenty tabs are open all at once, and someone keeps changing the music in the background.

That led me to filling in the questionnaires for ADHD and autism assessments and joining seemingly endless waiting lists.

At first, I felt almost certain AuDHD was the missing piece. Sensory issues, overstimulation, overwhelm, leaving me exhausted some days. The forgetfulness, racing thoughts, hyperfocus, inability to prioritise, high functioning procrastination, emotional dysregulation. It all resonated deeply. But then I started reading more about bipolar disorder itself and discovered that sensory issues can also exist within bipolar. Suddenly, things became blurry again.

What belongs to bipolar?

What belongs to Autism?

What belongs to ADHD? 

What belongs to Perimenopause?

What overlaps?

The truth is, neurodivergence is messy and complicated, especially for women diagnosed later in life. Throw in Perimenopause to the mix and everything is amplified tenfold.

I’ve also learned how difficult it can be to receive an Autism or ADHD diagnosis once you already carry a bipolar diagnosis. Symptoms overlap. Professionals often view everything through the lens of bipolar first. Sometimes it feels like once one label is attached to you, they don't want to look at other possible diagnoses.

So for now, I wait. I wait for an ADHD assessment appointment. I wait for answers. I wait to see whether understanding myself will ever feel complete. 

But even without all the answers, I know this much, I am Neurodivergent. I would go as far to say I am 90+% sure I have ADHD. Also, in the UK, Bipolar Disorder is increasingly being recognised within discussions around Neurodivergence, and honestly, that shift matters, because so many of us have spent decades feeling fundamentally different without understanding why. The sensory overwhelm, emotional intensity, burnout, struggles with routine, social exhaustion, impulsivity, and executive dysfunction are real. Whether they come from Bipolar, ADHD, Autism, or a combination of all three, they shape your entire life.

For me, everything became significantly harder during Perimenopause. The hormonal changes absolutely intensified everything. My moods became harder to regulate. My focus worsened. My ability to cope disappeared. Things I had barely managed to hold together for years suddenly unravelled. I reached a point where I simply could not force myself through life in the same way anymore, and that was frightening.

There’s still so little conversation about the impact hormones can have on bipolar and ADHD symptoms, particularly in late diagnosed women. So many women are out there thinking they are 'failing' during Perimenopause, when actually their nervous systems and brains are under enormous pressure.

One of the most important parts of my late diagnosis journey has been finding community. Going to My:ND Space changed something for me, for the first time in my life, I was around people who genuinely understood neurodivergence and were genuine. People who didn’t judge forgetfulness or overwhelm or social awkwardness. People who understood masking, burnout, sensory overload, hyperfocus, anxiety, emotional dysregulation, and exhaustion without needing long explanations, and more than anything, people were kind.

The atmosphere at My:ND Space is welcoming, supportive, and accepting in a way that’s difficult to describe unless you’ve experienced it yourself. There’s no pressure to 'act normal.' You can just be yourself. That matters more than people realise. Being around other late diagnosed Neurodivergent people helped me understand myself with a lot more compassion. It helped me stop seeing myself as broken. It helped me recognise how many of us have spent years struggling silently, trying to meet expectations that simply don’t fit the way our brains work.

If you’re someone sitting there wondering why life feels harder for you than it seems to for everyone else, please know you are not alone. If you’re waiting for assessments, questioning diagnoses, researching endlessly, feeling confused about overlapping symptoms, or exhausted from trying to hold everything together, you are not alone. You should definitely come along to a session. Sometimes the most healing thing is simply being around people who get it.