How my ADHD meds revealed that I’m also Autistic
Before my ADHD diagnosis, like so many others, I genuinely thought I was broken. Faulty. I couldn’t keep up with school, work, relationships, or the endless list of adulty things that everyone else seemed to breeze through and then still get a solid eight hours.
My mind was always racing, trying to process every single thing that was going on around me (attention deficit disorder, my arse). Forgetting important things, letting people down, constantly living in a state of why am I like this – it was exhausting and left me with low self-worth and various unhealthy coping mechanisms.
Slowly, but then all at once, it clicked.
When a friend first suggested to me that I might have ADHD, I spent months consuming every scrap of information I could find about ADHD in the AFAB (assigned female at birth) population. I read books and articles and cried through many a podcast, because for the first time, I realised: I’m not broken. I’m not lazy. I'm not a f*ck up. I’m just wired differently.
I booked in to see a psychiatrist, and after an hour of answering questions, he said I scored so highly for ADHD-C (combined type – both hyperactive and inattentive - fun!) that I was in the 99th percentile. He prescribed medication and sent me on my way.
The day my brain finally shut up.
I’ll never forget my first dose of Dexamfetamine. I was sitting on the couch in my apartment. I was nervous. Isn't this speed? I took one. I tried to distract myself with TV and act cool like I wasn't scared that I'd be on the ceiling ala Trainspotting baby in a few minutes’ time. Half an hour passed, and my stomach sank. It’s not doing anything. I'm a fraud. I tricked the doctor. I'm unfixable!
Then, it happened.
My brain went quiet like a hush falling over a rowdy audience.
The sense of peace and calm was beautiful.
I got up and danced around my apartment to Harry Styles' As It Was on repeat (like I did most days, and still do, because that man is a goddamn dopamine factory). The relief, the joy, the focus!
I thought, This is it! Look out world, I'm a Real Adult now!
And things did change. I came up with Stardust, for one thing. I started getting things done – one task at a time, instead of trying to do them all at once! Mind blowing! I found a kind of clarity I didn’t know existed. But while I was busy celebrating and ready to conquer the world, something else was stirring, finally given enough quiet to make itself known.
One unexpected side effect of starting medication was that I had to stop drinking. Like their illicit counterparts, ADHD meds can reduce the effects of alcohol until it’s way too late. At a few parties, I tried to drink as usual, but I felt nothing until suddenly the room was starting to spin and all I could think about was getting my hands on a double cheeseburger and going to bed.
Attending social events without my reliable pal forced me to confront something I’d been avoiding: without boozy bravado, my awkwardness and confusion in social settings became glaringly obvious to me, and I actively started avoiding them. I didn’t know who I was around other people without alcohol as a buffer, and it brought things into sharp focus.
HI NADIA, IT’S ME, YOUR AUTISM
As my ADHD chaos calmed down, my Autism was waiting in the wings like, Haha, you thought you were done? Cute!
It started with little whispers:
Are you SURE eye contact doesn't make you want to scream in pain?
Are you SURE it's normal to be on the brink of tears because someone is eating near you?
Repetitive tasks and spreadsheets are so calming, aren't they?
Listening to that one song again, huh?
Eventually, I came to the full realisation: I am Autistic.
Suddenly my stims, sensory sensitivities, and shutdowns started making a lot more sense. It was my ADHD diagnosis all over again — so many moments of “OMG, so that’s why I…’”
One particularly memorable moment was coming home from the hairdresser one evening and going completely non-verbal. After hours of small talk, decision-making, and a tram ride home in Friday peak hour crowds, I walked through the door, saw my partner, and couldn’t even explain what was happening. He had to plop me into a dark room with our cat, where I lay under my blankets like a goblin (a goblin with really cool new pink hair, but still) until I could function again.
At first, I dismissed a lot of my traits because I didn’t fit the stereotypes or what the media presents to us. I didn’t know anything about trains. I consistently failed maths at school. I masked so heavily and so well that I thought I handled social situations pretty easily and successfully squashed down my urge to cry every time I was in a supermarket.
But from Internet deep-dives and talking to Autistic people every day through Stardust, I learned about how vastly different Autism looks for everyone. We have varying degrees of a HUGE list of traits. Some traits we don’t have at all. But it turns out I've got plenty of ‘em. Some obvious, some that have been hidden away for as long as I can remember.
One of the biggest shifts came when I realised why I wasn’t full of trivia about any specific thing. I didn’t have a “special interest”, because my ADHD brain was always running after shiny new ideas, dragging me in a million directions at once. I could never focus on one thing long enough to truly dive in. That, and being picked on for being “too intense” about certain things and getting comments like “oh my god, that’s all you talk about”, which made me push things down until I was able to stop thinking about them.
But once I started ADHD medication, confirmed my Autism, and allowed myself to follow rabbit holes without self-judgement, I finally experienced what Autistic joy feels like.
And let me tell you, there is nothing like it.
When I put on my headphones and immerse myself in my particular special interest I'm filled with a sense of pure, almost childlike happiness. In that bubble, feel like I belong to myself in a way I never have before. It’s beautiful. It’s grounding. It’s mine. And I genuinely feel lucky that I get to experience such unadulterated bliss at 40 years old.
Sure, being AuDHD is exhausting, and I'm realising more and more each day that the world we live in works against us in so many ways (even though we invented a lot of it, but that’s another post altogether) but knowing this about myself has helped me embrace who I am. I’ve made accommodations for myself. I’m learning to advocate for myself because I’m learning what my needs really are, and I (mostly) have the language to explain them. I'm calm. More sure of myself. I’m making connections with people that feel real and genuine, and I’ve let go of the ones that I now know I was forcing.
To anyone on this journey (or considering going on it)
If you’ve received an ADHD diagnosis and suspect there’s a little more going on, here’s my advice:
Finding out for sure can be validating, and can help you find ways to live a more comfortable life.
It’s also not for everyone.
It’s expensive, confronting, and generally a really draining process. But self-diagnosis is valid too. The main thing is finding a way to identify that feels right for you.
After four decades of trying to fit into a mould that I just couldn’t squish myself into has taught me the importance of letting yourself be you. You’re not here to be the person others want you to be.
To little Nadia
If I could go back and talk to my younger self, I’d tell her this:
Yes, you’re right, you are different. You are a little weirdo. But it’s a good thing. You’re unique and brilliant and hilarious and kind. And there are loads of other girls who feel just like you right now, and one day you’re going to meet them and it’s going to feel like magic.
