You’re Not Broken You’re Becoming

Exploring the risks and realities of self-diagnosing ADHD or autism, and how to seek clarity, connection, and support by taking the steps that truly help.

Jun 22, 2025

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A man sitting in a doctors office waiting for an assessment.

When you finally feel seen by a diagnosis, especially one like ADHD or autism, it can feel like being handed a flashlight in the dark. But before you run full speed into the forest, let’s pause and check the batteries.

A quick note before we begin:
This piece reflects my thinking at the time I wrote it. I’m not here to die on a hill. This isn’t gospel; it’s perspective. Based on lived experience, clinical work, and a whole lot of sitting in the in-between. If it helps you, beautiful. If it doesn’t, feel free to leave it behind. We’re all still learning how to talk about this better.

That Moment of Recognition

You’re scrolling, reading, listening, and something clicks.
A list of symptoms. A meme. A podcast interview. And suddenly: That’s me.

Maybe you laugh. Maybe you cry. Maybe your whole life finally makes sense.

For many people, especially those with AuDHD, that moment of recognition is a lifeline. A breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.
But here’s the part nobody talks about.

Resonance is not a diagnosis.
It’s a clue.

And it matters.
But it’s not the whole story.

Why the Urge to Self-Diagnose Makes Sense

I get why people do it.
Because I’ve been there.

I’m autistic. I also have ADHD and dyslexia. I’ve spent my entire life navigating a world that wasn’t built with my brain in mind.

I’m also a dad to three sons with autism and ADHD.
And if fatherhood has taught me anything, it’s that no two neurodivergent experiences are the same, and every one of them deserves to be seen with care.

Add to that my background as a therapist with a Master’s in Social Work, and I bring both the lived experience and the clinical lens.
I try to honor both without favoring either.

So when I say this next part, it’s not about gatekeeping.
It’s about helping you get support that works.

The waitlists are long.
The assessments are expensive.
The world doesn’t always make space for invisible struggles.

So it makes sense that people start putting pieces together on their own. Especially when they're tired of being misread, mislabeled, or completely missed.

But that need for clarity, while valid, can become a shortcut that accidentally closes the door on real support.

Self-diagnosis isn’t just about naming something. It’s about understanding it. And understanding takes more than checking off a list.

What a Professional Sees That Google Can’t

ADHD and autism are complex.
They’re layered.
And they often camouflage themselves in real life.

Trauma can look like ADHD.
Anxiety can feel like autism.
Burnout can mimic both.

A trained professional is like a skilled mapmaker.
They don’t just draw the route. They help you understand the terrain.

They ask sharper questions.
They spot subtler patterns.
They connect dots you didn’t know were part of the same picture.

Without that process, you risk using the wrong tools or chasing the wrong solution. You might misunderstand the very thing you’re trying to heal.

I’ve known people who strongly identified with autism, only to later discover that trauma, OCD, or something else was the more accurate fit.

I’ve also known people who waited years to be assessed, decades even, and finally got the confirmation they’d been quietly carrying in their bones since childhood.

Both stories are real.
Both deserve space.

What worries me is when self-diagnosis becomes so central to someone’s identity that they shut down new information, or reject professional input because it doesn’t match what they hoped to hear.

That’s not empowerment.
That’s entrenchment.
And it can lead to misdiagnosis, missed opportunities, and even more pain.

You deserve better than that.
You deserve both: self-trust and trusted guidance.
Not either-or. Both-and.

For Parents of Self-Diagnosed Teens

If your teen says, “I think I’m autistic,” or “I have ADHD,” take a breath.
Your job isn’t to correct or question.
It’s to get curious.

You might say:

“Is this something you’ve been thinking about for a while?
Want to tell me what parts feel true for you?”

You don’t need to agree or disagree in that moment.
You just need to hold space (Listen without judgement).

From there, you can talk about next steps.
Maybe it includes an evaluation. Maybe it just starts with listening better and learning together. Either way, your relationship stays strong because you stayed open.

Try This Instead of Self-Diagnosing

If you're not ready or able to get assessed yet, try saying this:

“I relate to a lot of traits linked to ADHD or autism, and I’m exploring whether a diagnosis fits. For now, I say I’m pending diagnosis.”

It’s simple.
It’s honest.
It keeps the door open to discovery and support.

How to Show Compassion to Someone Exploring a Diagnosis

Avoid jumping in with either “you don’t seem like it” or “that explains everything.” Try asking, “What parts of that feel most true for you?”
Be careful with compliments that accidentally erase struggle. Saying “But you’re so smart” or “You’ve done fine without a diagnosis” may feel invalidating.
Respect the courage it takes to name something that has felt invisible.
Ask how you can support their learning. “Would it help if we found some good resources together, or do you just want me to listen right now?”
Let them be in the middle. Not everything needs a conclusion to be valid.

If You’re Still Waiting for Answers

Start with what’s hard.
You don’t need a label to begin healing.

In my work, I help people name their struggles and build tools around them, whether or not a diagnosis is in place.

You can start by asking yourself or your child:

Where do I feel stuck?
What drains me the fastest?
What do I wish people understood about how my brain works?

That’s the real work.
And you’re allowed to begin it today.

The Bottom Line

Self-diagnosis isn’t shameful.
But it’s not complete either.

You deserve more than a hunch.
You deserve real clarity.
You deserve support that helps, not just support that feels good for a moment.

We likely agree more than we disagree.
And I appreciate you showing up with your full truth.

Let’s keep learning how to have this conversation better.

Which one felt like it was written just for you?
Drop a comment, save it for later, or say it out loud like a quiet promise:
“I’m not broken. I’m learning to understand my brain with curiosity and compassion.”

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