I Thought I Was Just Weird: Discovering I’m Neurodivergent in My 20s  

I used to think I was just ​‘​bad​’​ at life. 

I lost my keys twice a week. I interrupted people without meaning to. I cried in the bathrooms after social events and replayed every conversation in my head. Group projects drained me. I either forgot assignments completely or stayed up all night trying to make them perfect. In school, I wasn’t failing —but I wasn’t thriving. I floated in this space of high-functioning confusion, always wondering: Why does everything feel harder for me than it looks for everyone else? 

For years, I didn’t have an answer. Just shame, anxiety and a growing list of coping strategies that made me feel fake. 

The Masking Starts Early 

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was masking — a term used to describe when neurodivergent people mimic neurotypical behaviour to blend in. I learned to script conversations. I forced eye contact. I copied how my friends laughed or used emojis so I wouldn’t seem ‘weird’ in texts. I over-apologized, over-explained and over-analyzed everything I said. 

Masking worked, kind of. On the outside, I looked like I had it together. Inside, I was exhausted. I didn’t even know I was doing it — it felt like surviving. 

The Turning Point 

It wasn’t until I hit my early 20s — post-pandemic, post-university, post-burnout — that I started to question everything. I was struggling with basic tasks while working full-time, constantly overwhelmed and pushing myself past my limits just to keep up with normal life. I stumbled across a TikTok by someone describing ADHD in women. Then autism. Then something called RSD—rejection sensitive dysphoria. 

Each video hit like a gut punch. 

It wasn’t just me. 

I fell down a rabbit hole of neurodivergent creators and late-diagnosis stories. For the first time, I saw my patterns — my spirals, my shutdowns, my sensitivity — reflected back at me with compassion instead of criticism. I wasn’t broken. I was different. And there were words for it. 

Getting Diagnosed (Sort Of) 

I don’t have a formal diagnosis yet. Like many young people in Canada, I’m on a long waitlist. The cost of private assessments is high, and most family doctors aren’t trained to recognize ADHD or autism, especially in people who’ve spent their whole lives masking. 

But I’ve still found peace in knowing. Self-identifying while I wait for access has helped me reframe years of guilt. I’ve started to adjust how I work, rest and communicate. I give myself permission to stim (fidget). I take breaks without apologizing. I’ve even told close friends about my neurodivergence — and they didn’t run. They listened. 

What Diagnosis (or Self-Discovery) Changes 

Here’s what I’ve learned since realizing I’m neurodivergent: 

• ​​Productivity ≠ worth. I’m not lazy; my brain just works differently. I need structure ​and flexibility. 
   

• Burnout is real — and faster. Social events, bright lights, even long emails can drain me. Recovery isn’t optional. It’s survival. 
   

• Friendships shift. I’ve gravitated toward people who value clear communication and emotional honesty. Some people didn’t get it. Some leaned in. That’s okay. 
   

• Self-compassion hits harder. I no longer shame myself for needing reminders, taking rest or feeling deeply. 
   

Neurodivergence Is More Than a Trend 

It’s important to say this: neurodivergence isn’t an aesthetic or a “quirk.” It’s not just about fidget toys, pastel brain memes or TikToks about being “that ADHD friend.” It’s a real neurological difference — one that comes with barriers in education, work and healthcare. Especially for people who are Black, brown, queer, disabled or low-income, diagnosis and support are even harder to access. 

But what is real — and powerful — is the wave of self-recognition happening in our generation. Social media didn’t invent neurodivergence. It gave many of us a mirror. And for once, we could see ourselves clearly. 

If You’re Reading This and Relating 

Maybe you’ve spent years thinking you were too sensitive, too awkward, too forgetful, too intense. Maybe you’ve been told to “try harder” or “just relax.” Maybe you’ve wondered, deep down: Is it just me? 

It’s not just you. 

Whether you’re exploring ADHD, autism, sensory processing issues, dyslexia, OCD — or just starting to ask questions — your curiosity is valid. Your experience is real. You don’t need a diagnosis to start unlearning shame and finding tools that work for you. 

What I Wish I Knew Sooner 

• You are not broken. 
   

• You don’t have to earn rest. 
   

• Being different is not being less. 
   

• You deserve accommodations even if you’ve learned to survive without them. 
   

• Masking is hard — but you don’t have to hide forever. 
   

Realizing I’m neurodivergent in my 20s didn’t fix everything overnight. I still have hard days. I still forget things. I still get overstimulated by the grocery store. But I no longer hate myself for it. I understand myself now. That alone changed my life. 

If you’re somewhere on this path — early questions, full diagnosis or somewhere in between — you’re not weird. You’re wired uniquely. And there’s power in learning how to live like it.