"Do I Even Count?": Impostor Syndrome About Your Own Diagnosis

If you didn't know by now, I am part of the statistic of women who got a diagnosis of high-functioning AuDHD later in life (31, to be exact). It came with a confusing and overwhelming flurry of emotions that tangled and knotted instantly, and I've been slowly, delicately detangling it ever since.

Maybe you've been there, or maybe you've wondered if you could be. Either way, the moment of diagnosis isn't always as straightforward as you'd expect.

You imagine it would be a lightbulb moment — "finally, everything makes sense!" — or maybe even a sigh of relief. But sometimes, that first thought isn't clarity. Sometimes, it's a voice that sounds like doubt.

When I first got my diagnosis, my brain didn't rush to self-compassion. Instead, it fired off this zinger: “Well, it seems like everybody has autism or ADHD these days.”

It shocked even me, because it made me realize that we as a society are inundated with ableisms just like this — from the media, off-hand comments, maybe even friends and family around you. I just hadn't realized how much it burrowed into my mind until then.

If this has happened to you, it's okay. Oftentimes, your first reaction isn't your "big truth." It's the second reaction — the moment you decide how to respond to that thought. That's where the truth lives. So, I finally began to come to terms with what I'd just heard.

Then I immediately invalidated myself again.

Thanks to a visit from my familiar old friend: Impostor Syndrome.

See, if you're considered what's called "high-functioning," especially if you received a later-in-life diagnosis, it could be a result of nobody noticing, listening, or believing you when you spoke about your experiences. So it's no surprise you might end up doing that to yourself.

It can make you feel like you don't deserve to be in this space. Like you don't deserve to call yourself "neurodivergent" or claim the struggles a person with autism or ADHD faces.

But just because you hid it well, doesn't mean it wasn't there. And just because you found ways to cope, doesn't mean you've never struggled. That voice can come from many places in your psyche, one being impostor syndrome.

So we should discuss...

What Is Impostor Syndrome, Really?

Impostor syndrome is that sneaky, insidious feeling that you don’t really deserve your accomplishments, experiences, or identity — and sooner or later, someone’s going to find out you're a "fraud."

For neurodivergent folks, especially those who’ve spent a lifetime functioning (or masking) in a world not built for them, this hits especially hard.

After all, if you’ve made it this far without a diagnosis… If you’ve been praised for being “so smart,” “so articulate,” “so adaptable”… If you’ve been the one who figured it out, pushed through, and got stuff done…

Then suddenly claiming an identity like autism can feel dissonant. Like you’re stealing a label you haven’t “earned.” Like maybe you haven't actually struggled at all.

But that very feeling — that you’re “not autistic enough” or "not neurodivergent" enough — is actually deeply common among high-masking or high-functioning people.

It’s not a sign you’re an impostor.

It’s a sign you’ve been compensating so effectively, for so long, that even you forgot how hard it really was.

Why High-Functioning Neurodivergents Experience Impostor Syndrome

Spoiler: the term “high-functioning” is deeply flawed. It’s usually shorthand for “you’re good at looking like you’re not struggling.” But appearances don’t reflect internal experience.

People who are considered “high-functioning” often…

• Have extreme sensory sensitivities that are invisible to others (misophonia, for example — one of my more sensitive sensitivities).

• Burn out after socializing, but don’t show it until they’re alone.

• Excel at work, but collapse emotionally behind closed doors.

• Script conversations, or rehearse responses just to get through the day.
  

And yet — because we can “perform” for a while… Because we’ve spent years internalizing the idea that struggle should be invisible... We gaslight ourselves:

• “Other people have it harder.”

• “Maybe I'm faking it.”

• "The doctors could've gotten it wrong."

• “This is probably just anxiety.”

• “What if I’m just lazy?”
  

  Or the one loudest for me:
  

• "Doesn't everybody feel this way sometimes?"
  

It's a complicated web of emotions that only you can find your way through. Luckily, there are much smarter and more experienced people than me out there to help us navigate through everything.

What the Experts Say

Dr. Devon Price, a social psychologist and author of Unmasking Autism, writes that:

“Though masking is incredibly taxing and causes us a lot of existential turmoil, it’s rewarded and facilitated by neurotypical people. Masking makes autistic people easier to “deal” with. It renders us compliant and quiet. It also traps us. Once you’ve proven yourself capable of suffering in silence, neurotypical people tend to expect you’ll be able to do it forever, no matter the cost. Being a well-behaved Autistic person puts us in a real double bind and forces many of us to keep masking for far longer (and far more pervasively) than we want to.”

I was always afraid to be too quiet, too loud, too awkward, too weird, too basic, too emotional, too terse. I punished myself for being just about anything. I was withdrawn. I hid behind mask after mask.

And when you get good at hiding? You stop being seen — even by yourself. You may live in denial, and that denial can run deep.

Every time you mask well and do something that "defies" neurodivergent stereotypes, it reshapes your reality. This could be one reason why so many late-diagnosed people struggle with the aftermath of finally getting that label. We've spent too long trying to talk ourselves out of it.

Instead of relief, you might feel confusion or doubt. Especially if you've had people around you all your life asserting that you're not neurodivergent, placating you with those very invalidating thoughts of "well, everyone feels like that sometimes."

You may even start to wonder: "If I didn't need help or acknowledgment for so long... do I really need it at all?"

Additionally, we’ve been taught that claiming a diagnosis is something that's earned — through struggle, through judgment, through oppression, through the lived experience of being labeled "different" — instead of something that helps explain the modes of your brain, your past, and your patterns of survival. Well, after months of reflection, I've learned that it's okay to ask for support, and no matter where you are on the spectrum of your diagnosis, you have something meaningful to contribute — and that contribution can start with "not all neurodivergent people look or act the same."

You’re Not Taking Up Space You Don’t Deserve

If you’ve felt this way — like you’re somehow co-opting a narrative that isn’t yours — let me remind you:

Your story matters.

You’re not taking up space that belongs to someone else.

You’re carving out space that already belonged to you.

By sharing your story, even if it’s messy or uncertain or still unfolding, you’re illuminating the quiet, nuanced, everyday faces of neurodivergence. You’re helping dismantle the myth that autism or any neurodivergence looks just one way. And you’re helping someone else, who may still be hiding or unaware, say:

“…Wait. That sounds like me.”

I don't have all the answers, and I'll be the first to warn you: I won't always say the right things. But I'm ready to start trying. And if this reaches just one person out there who needs to hear it, then it's worth it.

So if you ever struggle with a diagnosis, here are a few things to remind yourself.

Affirmations for When You Feel Impostor Syndrome

• My diagnosis is valid — even if it came late.

• Masking kept me safe. It doesn’t make me less “real.”

• I don’t need to prove how much I’ve struggled to be worthy of support.

• It’s okay if my story looks different than someone else’s.

• I am not alone in this feeling.

• My voice adds important texture to the neurodivergent narrative.

• I deserve community, understanding, and self-compassion.
  

If any part of this resonates with you — if you’ve felt too “functional,” too “late,” too “not enough” — I see you. And you’re definitely not alone.

Welcome to the club you always belonged to...

Even if it took you a while to find the door.