A Thousand Miles to an Autism Diagnosis

Christine Elizabeth

Some people travel 1,000 miles across the country to New York City for a vacation, but I traveled there to see a psychiatrist on New Year’s Eve. 

I was exhausted and defeated for no reason I could pinpoint, so I had spent the better part of a year calling every psychiatrist on the six-page list from my health insurance and couldn’t find any appointments without a huge wait. I was a depressed, unemployed college dropout that had gone over $100,000 in debt in a new city with nothing to show for it other than loans and loneliness. Even a gap year didn’t restore me. 

I had always felt like something was different about me; it was more pronounced when I had lived with a house full of extroverted ex-sorority girl roommates. It seemed like noise, sunlight, tastes, textures, and lengthy small talk didn’t bother any of them. They were surprised I ate the same thing every day for years when they didn’t want to have the same cuisine twice in a week. I didn’t make friends easily while they had an array of friends. They appeared to not be worn out by daily routines, commuting, work, school, or the things that tired me. I felt awkward and antisocial in comparison. One of them asked if I had sensory sensitivities, something I didn’t know existed.

It all started to make me wonder what was different about me. I started Googling possible reasons like I had done many times before over the years. I finally became desperate enough to search for doctors elsewhere to find answers. I found an appointment available in a few days in New York City, unlike a few months away in the city where I lived.

Disregarding budgeting, I shopped for a flight to NYC that week. It was a big expense for someone who had been jobless after quitting a full-time job in Washington, D.C. to move far away with nothing lined up. But I needed answers, no matter the cost. 

The Journey

A few days later, I landed in NYC. There was a wave of excitement in the air as a sea of people hurried past Christmas decorations in store windows. The roar of the crowds mimicked the roar in my ears from a day of loud airports. I thought to myself, “I bet I’m the only person in this crowd that just flew across the country to see a shrink on New Year’s Eve.”

My brain fog on a good day mimicked spending six hours on a spinning teacup ride, so I didn’t dare try to find my temporary home on the maze that is the NYC subway. I took a cab and checked into my Airbnb brownstone townhouse in Brooklyn. After accidentally entering the wrong apartment, I eventually found my room and crashed onto the bed. I was worn out– not just that day, but in life. A constant state of overwhelm and dread had me barely getting through each day.

The Appointment

Finally, my appointment at the psychiatrist’s office started in the middle of the holiday rush hour. It seemed like an eternity that the doctor tried to pry out of me any outward display of emotion about why I felt like I did. I didn’t know why or how to explain it. I didn’t know why I had burned out in my 20s or why I couldn’t seem to easily do the daily routines “everyone” else could. I couldn’t explain why socializing exhausted me, how I was unphased by being alone for weeks on end, why small tasks often took preparation, or why I had such peace when I had no obligations.

Predictably, the doctor asked me about my childhood, family, and current situation. When I told my story, she acted stunned. It was then that I realized that I actually did have reasons to feel like I did. I started to see that I tend to express emotion differently than others as I nonchalantly told her I lost two brothers within a year, didn’t have a job, dropped out of college because of one class, watched my grandmother fall down an escalator going unconscious, had my grandparents and father all have heart problems months apart, and I had just traveled 1000 miles at the last minute to see her.

The Breakthrough 

I got my answers. For the first time, someone validated the struggles that I hid for years with cloak and danger secrecy. She said she was surprised I had managed as well as I had. She explained why she suspected autism, ADHD, depression, and anxiety, giving insights into my traits and needs. It confirmed part of what I suspected too. She lifted megaliths of guilt that I had buried myself under. I started realizing that I wasn’t lazy, unmotivated, selfish, flawed, or any of the reasons I gave myself for my stagnant life. I also wasn’t cold, quirky, uncaring, or overly into my hobbies like some people had called me before. Trying to live like the people around me drained me and stripped away what I needed to thrive. Instead of believing I missed out because my life didn’t look like that of my friends, I thought about what I wanted and needed.

Ringing in my New Year with a psychiatrist visit was one of the best things I’ve ever done because it gave me a roadmap to self-understanding. I began to take credit for facing obstacles and successes. I’m not sure how life would be different if I had a diagnosis as a child. I imagine there would have been fewer misunderstandings, more confidence, less wasted energy, and better support.

After a time of mourning what I had missed out on for decades because I didn’t know my Autistic identity, I started to find an entire Autistic community of people online that I could relate to. Countless misunderstandings and attempts at fitting in had diminished my self-confidence, but finding my tribe gave me newfound social confidence. I read stories about others with similar experiences of feeling like the odd one out like I had, including late diagnosed or self-diagnosed Autistics as well. I saw online friends passionately share their hobbies with me as I did with them. It took a few more years after that to really learn to understand my needs, but my new self-knowledge was a reset button that gave me a new outlook on my life and myself. I reframed a lot of my experiences through a new lens. Embracing my neurodiversity empowered me to redesign my life based on what I needed and wanted among a community of new online friends.

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