For many women, autism, AuDHD or ADHD isn't recognised until adulthood, sometimes after a child's diagnosis, a burnout that finally stopped everything, or a quiet realisation that accumulated over years. If you've been diagnosed late, or you're still exploring whether you might be neurodivergent, you may be carrying a complicated mix of relief, grief, anger and relief-tinged grief all at once. All of it makes sense. And all of it deserves space.
Autism and ADHD have historically been described around young, hyperactive boys. Women and girls often present differently, and the world often responds differently to them.
Many late-diagnosed women grew up as:
Instead of recognition, many received correction. Layers of "try harder", "calm down", "stop overreacting", "you're too much" and "why can't you just…" taught you to monitor, mask and minimise yourself long before anyone considered that your brain might simply work differently.
So instead of accommodations, you developed adaptations. Instead of support, you developed survival strategies. And those strategies can be both remarkable and costly.
There's no single right way to feel about a late diagnosis. Common threads include:
Relief — a lifetime of confusing experiences suddenly has a framework. "Nothing is wrong with me" can sit alongside grief that no one noticed sooner.
Grief — mourning the younger self who struggled without understanding why, the friendships that faded, the opportunities lost to exhaustion or fear, the decades spent masking.
Anger — at missed diagnoses, at professionals who dismissed you, at systems that rewarded your suffering as long as it stayed quiet.
Identity questions — "Who am I under the masking?" "Which parts of me are me, and which parts were survival?" "What do I actually need?"
Burnout — many women reach diagnosis only after years of overwhelm catch up with them, sometimes alongside anxiety, depression or chronic exhaustion.
You don't need to feel a particular way, or even be sure of your feelings, for therapy to be useful.
Late diagnosis rarely arrives in isolation. Alongside it often come:
None of this means you're broken. It means you adapted, for a long time, in environments that weren't designed for you.
I work with late-diagnosed and self-identifying neurodivergent women, and much of this work isn't about "treating" your neurodivergence at all, it's about untangling what was you all along from what you had to become in order to cope.
Together, we might:
Your neurotype isn't a problem to be solved. Where therapy helps, it's in lightening the load that came from carrying it unrecognised for so long.
I don't expect you to arrive with a neat narrative. Some women arrive with a diagnosis and a filing cabinet of questions. Others are still in the "quietly wondering" stage, reading everything and telling no one. Both are welcome.
Sessions are paced around you. I'll never push you to unpack anything before you're ready, and you remain in control of what you share. I adapt my approach around sensory needs, communication preferences, processing styles and energy levels, therapy moulds to you, not the other way round.
I offer online sessions to adults aged 18 and over. My practice is explicitly neurodiversity-affirming and trauma-informed: somewhere you don't have to translate yourself, perform progress, or pretend the process is further along than it is.
If you're navigating a recent diagnosis, or the possibility of one, and would like a space to make sense of it, I offer a 50-minute discovery appointment. There's no pressure and no expectation that you'll have it all worked out.
You spent long enough adapting to everyone else. This can be a place where we start with you.
Please get in touch to arrange a discovery appointment.

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