A lot of the stories in the comments sound relatable. Pondering about why I was so weird from a very young age, and finding different ways to cope with the weirdness. I also had a mother who didn't really know how to help, who told me I couldn't be depressed because I wasn't suffering any hardship in life.

Fortunately both parents were also fairly tolerant and gave me a lot of freedom when I was a teenager (guess they were overwhelmed and didn't know what to do with me). They never forced me to fit in and reacted within reason when I dropped school. So what happened is I found ways to live that are doable for me - I found alternative spaces where my weirdness was accepted, did some fairly reckless shit in my youth but learned good lessons from it as well, and now I live in a good quiet spot, can work remotely and just interact with people when I like.

An also autistic friend suggested I should look into autism when I was 35 and in a permanent frenzy of anxiety and depression, and most of the symptoms for autistic girls were just spot on and I finally understood my childhood weirdness. I guess I thought about it for quite a few years before coming to terms with it. I was looking into official diagnosis, was on a looong waiting list, and when they finally called me after 3 years I didn't feel the need anymore. Whatever official support exists for adults in the country I live in is not worth it. I am not even comfortable with terms like 'ASD' anymore, because I'm not disordered, I'm different, and don't want to receive treatment in a system where I am called that.

As for some of the physical limitations coming with it, I have found adaptations to manage life without having to attach a disability label to myself. One of my special interests, thanks to not-so-great joints tendons and bones hindering my desktop work, are alternative input devices. So far I am happy with my mouseboard v1 where I use my feet for clicking mouse buttons, which allows for a greater range of movements when I sit at my desk. It saves my tendons. I am also lucky (or well set up with a garden) and don't work more than 3 or 4 hours a day ever, lots of outdoor activity inbetween.

So now I am happily Neurofunky. And meet a lot of other people like me, with their adaptations, and no need for a 'Disordered' label.

I was this years old 😅 meaning 34. I was diagnosed officially in March of 2023 after being self-diagnosed for about 3.5 years before that. Never suspected I was autistic beforehand much the same as you. I just knew I was weird, felt stuck between pleasing people (and thus trying to be neurotypical and failing) and trying to be myself. I'm still not there yet but knowing about other women experiencing a lot of the same "milestones" in life has helped me. Aspects of your story match mine to a T, including the part about rambling, haha. I'm very happy with communities like these where we can share and not feel lonely so often. Being alone can be a choice, but feeling lonely, especially when surrounded by people who, seemingly or not, "fit in" is so so so detrimental to my mental health. I don't know what's worse sometimes: receiving compliments for being "so well-adjusted" and "so well-behaved" versus being stuck in my own head overanalyzing every little thing I do and say and never feeling like I did well or like I behaved like a "good human being" /End ramble ;-)

My autistic dad frequently said that I was on the spectrum (always that exact phrase) but refused to have me diagnosed. I grew up just assuming that I had a high-functioning (as I need relatively few accommodations; my apologies if this is an outdated term) form of autism.

Now as an adult, I still don't have the resources to get a professional diagnosis. I feel very much at home in groups like this; I have many of the symptoms of autism though not all; I got 136 on the RAADS-R test. That test was the tipping point that pushed me mentally from "strongly suspecting I'm autistic" to "self-diagnosed autistic".

I remember being 5 years old in my back yard wondering why I was different.

I always looked. I actually read books by a woman who worked with kids who have autism, and even wished it wasn't just a boy thing because it sounded like me. Forgot about that until one day a few years ago I was looking at cnn.com and they had an article saying something like autism isn't just for boys, it presents differently in girls. I read that article and cried. It all made sense.

Everything I've read since has just reaffirmed it, and my husband, having a normal brain and in the psychology field, took me step by step through the DSM criteria. I originally thought I had maybe 3 of the symptoms. As he went through it, he pointed out things I do that meet the criteria in every category but 2. So I can't even trust myself to diagnose me since my brain works differently from the author.

I tried in 2016, before I met said husband. I got the dreaded social pragmatic language disorder for my trouble.

My husband and I have gone over the idea and I'm going to try again for a diagnosis. I went through autistic burnout after I was fired from yet another job and my husband has had to take care of me because I went from being a strong independent mother of two, to being unable to wear shoes because I strangle my feet with the laces. It's been so hard to deal with this and I feel like I'm made of glass now after being steel for so long. There ARE supports for adults. Just as there are with all disabilities. Because this IS a disability. My husband works with people of all ages with various mental conditions, with autism being the most common, and naturally being an expert with it thanks to me.

So in October I will be going back to the only person within 100 miles who can diagnose me. All so if something happens to him, someone is taking care of me. Otherwise I would literally starve because I refuse to leave the house.

Also, I can trace every single bad thing that happened to me in life, and there was a lot, to an autistic trait. If I had known, or my mother had taken it seriously that I used to go scream and cry in a corner when frustrated instead of making it a somehow funny story, most of those things wouldn't have happened.