June 1st and 4th, 2026: 3:08 PM and 11:25 AM
It is my birth week! I turn 26 this week and it’s gotten me reflecting on the past year that will soon be behind me. 25 was difficult in many ways but it was one of the best years of growth for me. With growth comes trials, it’s not supposed to be easy. It’s meant to stick with you profoundly.
The biggest stem of evolution I have experienced during 25 is getting my diagnosis.
Back when I was younger, there weren’t as many resources available regarding what Autism, ADHD, and OCD is. It wasn’t easily accessible especially to lower income communities like my family (who faced a tremendous amount of their own struggles). Due to this, they weren’t able to recognize the behaviors I had which could have ended up in getting evaluated.
Instead, I grew up knowing I had severe depression and generalized anxiety but always knew deep down there was more to it. I couldn’t place a finger on it though because I had no idea where to begin to look. Flash forward to my mid 20s and I found myself having more questions regarding my mental health. I wasn’t feeling better, I was merely surviving with intense burn out.
I felt robotic in everything I did.
I was frustrated with medications and countless medical providers who didn’t know how to help me. It got to a point where I concluded I was broken. If nothing was working, I had to figure things out for myself. I ended up going to a provider who didn’t treat me well at all, but did refer me to an evaluation. I got on the list and waited for months until eventually I got tested for suspicions I had on my mind of what I could have. Eventually I got my answers a few months later and they confirmed everything I was questioning.
In that moment, I immediately started crying as I read my diagnosis.
Tears of relief, frustration, and sadness for younger me. I felt validated in all the struggles I’ve had over the years. It made sense, every single part of my diagnosis made sense to me. My heart clenched itself as I remembered the silent battles as a child, the claustrophobia of emotions I didn’t understand. How could have I verbalized it? It was simply so much.
Since October, I’ve been working on putting some of the puzzle pieces together. Assembling, dissembling, and assembling repeatedly. Concluding this: I wasn’t broken. I never was and I never will be. Am I different? Yes! But in the absolute best way.
I am my own masterpiece, full of hidden crevices in which I’m still discovering. My diagnosis has taught me this. It has taught me to begin loving and accepting myself: one day at a time.
