Content note: this article contains several references to suicide and suicidal ideation that readers may find upsetting.

When I was 16, I believed whole-heartedly that I didn’t belong in this world, that I was broken in some way, and that nothing would ever change that. I had known that I was different for as long as I could remember. My brain didn’t seem to work in the same way as everyone else’s. I interpreted things incorrectly, became overwhelmed easily and appeared ‘awkward’ in social situations. I did my best to copy those around me and suppress parts of myself that I was told were ‘weird’, but despite this, I never quite fitted in. My anxiety intensified to the point I was having daily panic attacks and developed OCD. This led me to the conclusion that the world simply wasn’t designed for me. I didn’t believe I had a future.

After attempting suicide, I was admitted to a children’s mental health unit, where I was sectioned under the Mental Health Act. The whole experience was incredibly distressing, though there were some professionals who were kind and helped me as much as they could. I was unwell, but the environment made everything worse. My notes from my admission say that I had “hysteric attacks” when I didn’t “get my own way”, but they were meltdowns from sudden changes, noise, lack of predictability and fear. My parents queried if it might be autism, but my doctor said I just had high social anxiety. I was diagnosed with generalised anxiety disorder and mixed personality disorder (emotionally unstable and obsessive-compulsive type) and discharged more traumatised than when I was first admitted.

Six months after my discharge, my life changed with a single sentence from a psychiatrist: “I think there is one explanation for everything that you have gone through… that explanation is autism.” I remember not understanding entirely what autism meant but feeling an overwhelming relief at finally knowing why I was different. I’d collected many labels already – weird, drama queen, gifted, stupid, hysterical, over-dramatic, personality disordered – but this was the first one that made sense. I didn’t yet have the full picture – three and a half years later, at the age of 21, I would be diagnosed with ADHD, too, but it was the start of a journey towards understanding myself. The diagnosis didn’t change everything immediately. It didn’t take away the challenges I experienced on a day-to-day basis, but understanding my brain saved me in more ways than one.

“I felt like I didn’t belong – this is how understanding my neurodivergent brain saved my life”