A significant part of my life has been marked by struggle, shaded with cyclical patterns of intensity and isolation. There have been highs, but the lows often led to deep burnout. One of those breaking points came in late 2023.

Based on external measures, things seemed okay. I had a secure job with great benefits and remote flexibility. I was attending a work meetup in Munich. It was my first time in Germany, and I was excited about the opportunity to join a new team.

But under the surface, I felt flat and empty at times. There had always been a persistent internal conflict.

One part of my mind demanded structure, order, and stability. The other was often seeking something new, another novelty of distraction.

Despite kind words from colleagues, I second-guessed myself constantly. Everything felt overwhelming. I was hovering near rock bottom. Again.

The truth is, these difficulties started at a young age. Over time, the stress became intense. As a result, my body began to manifest mysterious symptoms. None of these symptoms were explained by a physical illness. It turned out they were completely somatic, due to my conditions.

I knew I couldn’t keep going in this manner. So I took some time off. I was lucky to find a therapist who offered support and insight. For the first time, I began to understand what had been happening to me.

This wasn’t my first round of therapy. I’d sought help before, but no diagnosis had ever fully made sense. I carried a jumble of symptoms—panic, anxiety, depression, sensory overwhelm. The guesses were vague: Maybe bipolar? Just anxiety? Just depression? I was prescribed medications at age 24 that only made things worse. I lost nearly another eight years to that fog.

After some months of sessions, my therapist asked a question. They inquired: Has it ever come up that you might be on the autism spectrum? It was true that a few people had mentioned it to me in the past.

That question unlocked something. I started researching. The more I learned, the more familiar it all felt.

I eventually underwent a professional assessment—five sessions, around seven or eight hours in total. By the end, I wasn’t surprised by the results: autism, PTSD, generalized anxiety disorder, and major depressive disorder (in remission). ADHD was the curve ball. At the core of it all was the ADHD and autism.

At first, the ADHD part surprised me. I thought to myself, “Yeah, but doesn’t that mean I would be hyper all the time or something?”

Apparently, autism and ADHD often travel together. That was a revelation. The internal tug-of-war I’d experienced for years suddenly made sense—competing instincts, contradictory needs, all housed in one brain.

Dr. Khurram Sadiq describes the cohabitation of these conditions in an excellent book.

His book on ADHD and autism helped me better understand AuDHD. This is the unofficial term used for those who experience both conditions. I highly recommend giving it a read.

For the first time, I understood why I’d always felt like an alien. I realized why I had struggled to connect to others, despite being articulate.

Therapy also helped me realize how bottled-up my emotions had been. I never had the space to learn how to express them. Looking back, it’s no surprise my relationships were fragile, or that social interactions often left me confused and drained.

Some sounds felt like they pierced my entire nervous system. Certain textures made my skin crawl. Human behavior was sometimes a bewildering puzzle. Why couldn’t people just say what they meant? Why did their facial expressions hide more than they revealed? Why didn’t they notice the same details I did?

People used to think I was shy. I wasn’t. I was overloaded. My senses absorbed everything—colors, tones, moods, contradictions—and turned it all into a kaleidoscope of perception. Combine that with deep emotional sensitivity, and it was… a lot.

Sometimes, the roller coaster reached peaks, yet it often lived in the dark.

Still, I’m fortunate. My verbal skills have helped me find a path forward, at least on the autism side. Now I’m trying to wrangle the chaos of ADHD—a challenge that can be frustrating, especially when I fall short of my own potential.

However, finally knowing I have ADHD, and receiving treatment makes it feel like I have another lease on life.

Some of what I’ve learned is simple: keep going. Keep learning. Keep expanding awareness. I think the trait of persistence in autism kept me moving ahead. It drove me to seek answers to questions I didn’t even know I should be asking.

And maybe, just maybe, putting thoughts into words can help me process all of this, and help others, too.

If any part of this resonated with you, or if you’ve walked a similar path, I’d love to hear from you. Feel free to leave a comment or like, subscribe, or share this with someone who might find it meaningful.

Thank you for being here.