A couple of weeks before my 31st birthday (this past October), I found out that I am autistic. It's a realization I never saw coming, and I'm still in the process of fully absorbing it. Autism hadn't crossed my mind until very recently. It all started when I watched Love on the Spectrum on Netflix and found myself connecting deeply with so many of the traits I saw. After that, I started relating my own experiences to stories of other women who were diagnosed later in life, who didn't "look" autistic but had been masking and struggling silently for years.
As I dug deeper, pieces of my life started to click into place, and I decided to seek a formal diagnosis; although, after weeks and weeks of endless research, I already knew without hesitation what the results would be. When I got the confirmation that I'm on the autism spectrum, it felt like both a revelation and a relief—and equally as overwhelming and difficult to process. But I suddenly had clarity and a new level of compassion for myself that I didn't know I needed.
Looking back I can see how I spent my whole life adapting. Changing my energy, hobbies, and even the way I spoke to fit in. I was a chameleon, constantly shifting to blend in with those around me. Now I know the name for that behavior is called masking, and it's incredibly draining. That pressure to fit in left me battling anxiety, depression, and the relentless belief that I had to be "better." And now, learning that I don't have to keep up this exhausting act, feels like I'm meeting myself for the very first time.
This discovery has been intense. I feel raw, as if a veil has been lifted, leaving me hypersensitive and often overwhelmed. It's like peeling back layers of learned behaviors and seeing myself in a completely new light. Even small things can feel like mountains to climb, and some days I feel like I'm starting over—relearning how to live in a way that truly honors who I am.
One of the biggest shifts has been realizing that autism isn't just a part of me; it's the lens through which I experience everything, because my brain is wired differently. It shapes how I think, what I enjoy, my social interactions, and my emotional patterns. With this new understanding, I've had to reevaluate everything from my daily routines to how I handle simple tasks like grocery shopping, to prevent sensory overload. What I once thought of as being "flexible" or "spontaneous" was actually me masking my authentic self. Now I'm realizing that having routine and structure isn't limiting, it’s essential for my well-being.
Post-diagnosis, I randomly find myself reflecting on my past, especially my childhood. It's clear to me that my emotional breakdowns and periods of dysregulation were often triggered by sensory overload. My processing is delayed, so by the time a meltdown hit, I couldn't pinpoint why I was experiencing that. Understanding this now has shown me just how crucial it is to have tools to help manage sensory input.
I feel a deep sense of relief knowing the things I once shamed myself for, like social awkwardness, hypersensitivity and emotional overwhelm - finally make sense. But there's also a sense of grief for the person I was, always trying not to feel "broken", not knowing I was never broken at all. I've realized how much I have forced myself to fit into a mold that doesn't reflect who I really am.
Becoming a yoga teacher and practicing mindfulness has proven to be more valuable than ever. It reminds me I don't have to force happiness or mask my emotions. I can let myself feel it all, exactly as I am. The meditations I create for emotional regulation are designed to hold space for any emotion, to observe and understand them instead of pushing them away or trying to force calm. I'm learning that with my autism, it's important to honor whatever comes up, regardless of how others might see it.
After a lifetime of masking and receiving my late diagnosis, I've been experiencing severe autistic burnout. In short, this is a condition that typically comes from years of trying to live up to external demands that are totally out of sync with one's unique needs as an autistic. This can cause difficulties with executive functioning (decision making, completing everyday life tasks), cause extreme exhaustion, and decreased tolerance to external stimuli; all of which I've been struggling with lately.
I feel how my social and sensory sensitivities are heightened more than ever, and I find myself needing more rest, simplicity and spaces where I can just be. Instead of constantly pushing myself, I get to let myself slow down and listen to what I may or may not feel capable of in any given moment. This journey is far from linear, and everyday is a new experience.
Some days, all I have in me is the ability to cuddle in bed all day with my wife and our Frenchies, watch Modern Family on repeat, or color in a "color by number" book...because choosing my own colors is far too overwhelming. Other days, I need to crawl into my closet with a fluffy blanket and pillow, and lay in silence. Sometimes accompanied by my frenchie, Ralph.
Accepting my sensitivities after years of pushing through them hasn't been easy. I always hated being called "too sensitive" growing up, so I worked hard to not be that way. But trying to meet societal expectations only backfires. I now understand that creating space for my limits isn't about being overly sensitive; it's about true self-care.
This diagnosis is the start of a new chapter. I'm excited to share the tools and practices that have been supporting me along this very new journey, and I hope that by sharing my story, others might feel a little less alone. If you're on a similar path, know that you're not alone. And if you're looking for mindfulness tools that support every part of your experience, check out the yoga videos and meditations I've created in the Practices section. They are there to help with emotional regulation and grounding, just as they've helped me. And there is so much more to come!
If you're still reading this, thank you for hanging along. This has been the most difficult thing I've written and shared, and by far the most vulnerable. I'm so grateful for a space where I can express myself fully and allow myself to be seen authentically by whoever is reading this; as writing has always come more naturally to me than speaking. And if nothing else, writing this has helped me process everything I'm experiencing in a deeper way, and sharing this has given me a chance to grow and love my autistic authentic self a little more. Baby steps.
x Carolyne
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