My Sketchy Diagnosis Got an Upgrade

A while back, I wrote a small essay on coping with my sketchy diagnosis. I was frank about my myriad of diagnoses varying from schizoaffective disorder to bipolar disorder to histrionic personality disorder. These were all based on the information available at the time. There was always one small thing keeping me from a firm conclusion, one little thing that kept me in a “not otherwise specified” bracket. The psychotic episodes and delusional behaviour kept throwing physicians off.

Back in 2022, it just so happened my psychiatrist attended a presentation on autism, where it was raised that psychosis is a known co-morbidity that can occur with autistic patients. She had a lightbulb moment and handed me a questionnaire without specifying what it was for. But I knew. I cottoned on pretty quickly, and based on my answers, her suspicions were reasonably confirmed. She referred me to another clinic. While I waited for an appointment, I took multiple online tests, including a few from my clinical psychologist, and all signs pointed towards autism.

I received confirming it was ASD Level II has been invaluable. Now my diagnosis isn’t nearly as sketchy. I also took a genetic test which didn’t garner anything indicative of autism, this was optional, I’m perfectly fine donating my brain to science when the time comes. I still suspect the psychosis component threw off the neuropsychologist who diagnosed me. The testing for autism is still based on the notion it’s a childhood disorder, so they’ve not been updated for adults. My reading of the book Tuesday was cynical, being a writer, I thought I could be smart about my interpretation and it amused the person doing the assessment.

And I was a classic case of persistent misdiagnoses because I’m autistic. Misconceptions based on me being a girl easily would’ve prevented me from being properly diagnosed as a child. Had it been suggested even ten years ago, I’m positive it would have been completely dismissed. But those doctors felt more comfortable calling me histrionic and not autistic. My female psychiatrist insisted to my previous male psychiatrist it wasn’t simply psychosis. I wasn’t deteriorating, it was episodic (it’s referred to medically as reactive psychosis). I was constantly complaining about how I couldn’t make sense of other people’s behaviour while completely failing to cope in neurotypical environments without having meltdowns.

If you have a neurodivergent person in your life, the best you can do is not approach them with assumptions. They genuinely might be struggling with more issues than they can admit. I’m only open about it for the sake of self-preservation. If I hid this entirely, I wouldn’t be getting the support I have now. If we share something that doesn’t “fit” with your idea of autism or doesn’t make sense, take a moment to listen rather than dismiss it entirely. We’re all on a learning curve with mental illness and neurodivergence, I’ve had to shift my own perception. I didn’t consider myself neurodivergent when I thought I was bipolar, the term “Neurotypical” was created by the community to discern us from the people who’d been othering us for decades. I called myself an ally, so it was weird for me to suddenly realise I was part of the club all along.

I’m reasonably open with anyone who wants to ask what it’s like for me being autistic adult suffering from reactive psychosis. I’d rather demystify and clarify what it’s actually like than hide it out of shame or everyone else’s discomfort. I’m not offended by being asked what the difference is between psychosis and psychopathy. I do understand empathy and other emotions, I am hyperaware of shifts in mood while being adept at masking my own emotions. I’d rather people talk about all of it than cutting out the “unsavoury” parts, so we can move away from presumptions and stereotypes perpetuated by the media and work towards a better understanding of mental illness and neurodivergence.

Sadly, I can’t sugarcoat this bitter pill for you, not without denying the whole experience.

 

Lyn Hamlett is a long-term writer of various genres, including drama and horror. Left to with very little to do growing up in the small coastal town of Australind, she began writing at eleven, scribbling many stories and sneakily writing in the back of her notebooks in school. Admonished by her teachers for daydreaming in class, she vowed to prove this would one day pay off by becoming a published author.