Wait, am I Neurodigervent?

By Jen.

I grew up with a dad who was diagnosed with Tourette's at the age of 30 (after many people suggesting he was making it up), so I'm no stranger to the Neurodiverse world. Our family house has always been weird and wonderful, in the best possible way.

However, it's only over the last couple of years that my Instagram algorithm has slowly been raising my awareness of how ADHD and Autism can present in women. And I suddenly found myself asking:

"Wait, am I Neurodivergent?"

And I think I've come to the conclusion that yes, yes I very much am.

Oh, and of course, here comes my new special interest.

So I research the absolute hell out of Neurodiversity and find out everything I possibly can so that I understand my life in a whole new way.

But let me rewind a little bit...

When I was 11, I was put on my first ever diet because my family were worried about my weight.

I vividly remember getting my usual little sweet selection at my grandma's and being told I had "too many" and to put some back.

Around a similar age, I became more aware of my body. How much taller I was than the other girls. How my body shape was different. Which wasn't helped by the boy in my class who shouted "belly flop" at me in swimming lessons and "two fat ladies" at me and my friend as we came in last during cross country.

This led to years of shame around food and my body. Constantly restricting my food. Punishing myself with exercise. Not being able to stick to it. Beating myself up because I couldn't stick to it. Then eating more to deal with how crap I felt at dieting.

Looking back, I spent years believing I lacked willpower.

That I was lazy.

That I just needed to try harder.

I had no idea there might be something deeper going on.

In my twenties, I trained as a Primary School Teacher and spent five years teaching Year 5 and 6.

Teaching was the first time I remember stress, overwhelm and anxiety becoming impossible to ignore. It was also the first time I openly spoke about depression.

My need to be "the best" drove me straight towards burnout.

I wouldn't stop.

I went above and beyond constantly. I became a middle leader in my third year and then moved schools where I took on senior leadership responsibilities, maths lead and KS2 lead.

I gave everything, to everyone.

Then I'd come home and sleep.

Everything always felt like it was easier for everyone else, and I craved feeling "normal".

Somewhere amongst the difficult times, I met my now husband, Phil.

After years of feeling like I'd never find someone who could "put up with me", I couldn't believe my luck.

He accepted me for who I was, and when he didn't understand me or why I reacted in certain ways, he wanted to understand and asked questions.

For the first time, I felt accepted.

That started a whole new phase of self-acceptance.

Phil was training to be a personal trainer at the time and helped me understand nutrition and taught me how to weight train.

For the first time ever, I was exercising because I enjoyed how it made me feel rather than because I wanted to change how I looked.

I was feeling better and I wanted to understand more.

Human behaviour had always fascinated me. I'd always wished I'd continued my Psychology A-Level into university, so I went on a deep dive into emotional eating and understanding my relationship with food.

I got therapy.

I started getting to know myself in a way I never had before.

From a place of curiosity rather than criticism.

Eventually, that became mine and Phil's women's health and wellbeing coaching business, Body. Brain. Belief.

For six years we supported women through 1:1 coaching that was trauma-informed, rooted in self-compassion and tailored to each individual.

As part of this work, I took on a client who told me she had PMDD.

And of course my inquisitive brain immediately went:

"Ooh, what's this then?"

It was like somebody had switched a light on.

I was reading about myself.

I'd always known my periods had a huge impact on me, but understanding PMDD completely changed how I viewed my experiences.

Tracking my cycle and building awareness helped me manage it mostly through lifestyle changes.

Then we got married and the world blessed us with twins.

Enter a WHOLE NEW WORLD (as Aladdin would say).

For the first year or so, I did okay.

I noticed a gap in Wigan for the work I was doing online and started bringing it into real life. Earlier this year I fully transitioned into running a Community Interest Company focused on health and wellbeing.

I absolutely loved it.

The human connection.

The creativity.

The opportunity to bring nature, community and wellbeing together.

But as the twins got older, they also got more overstimulating.

And I found myself spending more and more time watching those Instagram reels about Neurodiversity in women.

Around the same time, I attended a Neurodivergent women's group at My:ND Space CIC.

I don't think I've ever felt more seen and understood.

It felt like all my suspicions were being confirmed.

So I decided to pursue a diagnosis.

Partly because my ‘tisms’ were telling me I needed a medical professional to confirm what I was beginning to suspect.

I'd wondered about ADHD before, but put it to one side until my gynaecologist, who was helping me manage my PMDD, suggested I presented more as ADHD.

For the last six months, I've basically been walking around saying:

"Wait...

THAT'S why I..."

• Feel impulsive around buying clothes and eating food

• Was always called a "fussy eater"

• Felt completely out of control around food

• Had no idea how I was feeling

• Constantly compared myself to friends and other people

• Felt such a strong need to fit society's standards

• Don't know I'm hungry until I'm STARVING

• Know exercise makes me feel amazing but can't physically move to do it

• Love social occasions but find them utterly draining

• Need constant recovery naps

• Sleep like a log

• Desperately need everything in its place for calm but can't keep things tidy

• Beat myself up for being a "bad adult" because I'm rubbish at things I should be able to do

• Want to vomit at the bins I've forgotten to put out

• Think washing up might be the worst task in the world

• Need to lie on the floor under a blanket when the world feels too much

• Drank myself into oblivion on nights out to cope

• Lose my absolute brain when plans change unexpectedly

• Could be a whole different person at work but barely speak when I got home

• Want to scream when I get too hot

• Try to do a thousand jobs at once but never feel like I finish one

• Can't sit still and constantly fiddle with something

• Interrupt people

• Struggle with eye contact, even with my husband

Etc. etc. etc.

It's been a whirlwind.

I'm still learning.

I'm still understanding.

And I'm just about to start some executive functioning coaching with Respect for All.

But the biggest thing understanding Neurodiversity has given me isn't a label.

It's self-compassion.

For years I thought I was lazy.

Too emotional.

Too much.

Not good enough.

A bad adult.

Someone who couldn't seem to do things that looked easy for everybody else.

Now I'm learning that many of those struggles weren't character flaws at all.

They were clues.

Understanding my neurodiversity allows me to embrace the things that make me me.

The creativity.

The curiosity.

The ability to think differently.

The incredibly systematic brain that somehow sits alongside complete chaos.

It helps me run a business.

It helps me connect with people.

It helps me create spaces where other neurodiverse women feel safe, understood and supported.

Spaces where sticker charts are a valid habit-building strategy.

Where book hunts can make walks more interesting.

Where creativity can be a tool for managing stress.

Where sensory issues around food are understood rather than judged.

Where health and wellbeing can feel doable rather than overwhelming.

(And not forgetting, my ability to chronically overshare - hello blog post.)

Most importantly, it's taught me to get curious rather than critical.

To stop asking, "What's wrong with me? I just want to be normal"

And start asking, "What do I need?"

So yes, I'm firmly in my unmasking era.

And honestly?

It's about bloody time.