For too long the face of autism was a white cis male. Thankfully, with more research into the female phenotype, that’s changing. As a result, more girls and women are being assessed and diagnosed every day, and in the case of women like me who were diagnosed later in life, the effect is transformative and often healing.
But these things take time, and there is still far to go before the average person understands the dichotomies of autism as they relate to gender.
In this series, I host a Q&A with a fellow autistic woman. I want to shed light on a variety of experiences and presentations.
Today’s guest on Ask an Autistic Woman is Ang, a late-identified autistic adult and host of the "Adulthood...with a chance of autism" podcast.
Tell me about your path to diagnosis.
I’m self-identified as of two years ago. Up until that point, I was in a pretty dark place. My life felt like it was unraveling at the seams—I was on the brink of divorce, struggling with intense emotional turbulence, and even contemplating whether or not I wanted to stick around on this planet. It felt like I was trapped in a constant loop of misunderstandings and confusion, both with myself and those around me. There was this persistent whisper in the back of my mind, a quiet but steady voice suggesting, Maybe you’re autistic. I didn’t know where it came from, and at first, I dismissed it, thinking maybe I was just searching for some kind of explanation to make sense of the chaos I was experiencing.
But then, a few months later, I read Hannah Gadsby’s memoir. Something about her story struck a chord deep within me. It was like she was holding up a mirror to parts of my life that I’d never fully understood. Her words lingered, and the whisper grew louder. For the first time, I began to seriously wonder if I might be autistic. It was a scary thought, to be honest. The idea that this could be the missing piece (not from a damn puzzle—the Wi-Fi password to my brain’s network) felt both terrifying and strangely hopeful.
One day, almost on a whim, I decided to act on that whisper. I thought, Why not find a book about autism and see if anything clicks? I wasn’t expecting much—I figured I’d read a few pages and maybe learn something new. But as soon as I started reading Dr. Luke Beardon’s Autism in Adults, everything shifted. It was like the fog that had clouded my understanding for years suddenly cleared. There was an immediate sense of recognition, like someone had finally given me the key to a door I’d been trying to unlock my whole life. I knew, deep down, that I’d found that crucial piece of awareness I’d been missing.
What do you like about being autistic?
There’s a lot I love about being autistic, though it’s taken time to accept it fully. One of the things I cherish most is the intensity with which I feel everything, especially joy. It’s like experiencing the world in high-definition, where every color is brighter, every emotion richer. I also value how my mind works—how I think differently, spot patterns others miss, and see connections that feel almost magical. It’s a gift to have this special lens through which I view the world, even if it’s overwhelming at times.
Another thing I appreciate is the profound connection I have with animals. There’s an unspoken bond, a deep sense of understanding that feels effortless and pure. It’s like they see the real me without needing words, and that’s incredibly comforting.
Creativity is another huge part of who I am. Whether it’s writing, problem-solving, or just daydreaming, I’m always in a state of creation. My curiosity is insatiable—I want to know everything about everything, even if I end up knowing a lot about only a few things.
And, of course, now I can finally explain to my wife why I have an endless stream of questions about pretty much anything—it’s because I’m autistic! There’s something so freeing about having that explanation, that validation, and being able to share it with those closest to me.
What do you struggle with?
One of my biggest challenges is my severe audio processing issues. It’s something I still feel embarrassed to admit, even though I know it’s a genuine difficulty. Talking on the phone or doing video calls is next to impossible for me because the sounds just don’t register correctly in my brain. It’s frustrating because I know a lot of neurotypicals don’t understand this; they think it’s something I’ve made up to avoid social interactions, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. The anxiety it causes is real, and it can be isolating.
Social anxiety is another big hurdle. It’s like this constant buzz in the back of my mind, making me overthink everything—how I’ll respond to an email, whether I’ll say the wrong thing, or if I’ll be misunderstood. That fear of being misinterpreted has haunted me throughout my life, and it often leaves me second-guessing myself in social situations. It’s so exhausting.
What has improved since your diagnosis?
Since discovering my autism, my ENTIRE life has transformed, almost like night and day. My self-esteem has skyrocketed because I finally know I belong in this world, even if it’s in a way that’s different from most people. I no longer feel like I’m broken or flawed. I just have a different operating system. This understanding has empowered me to advocate for myself in ways I never could before. Now, I can tell people when I’m feeling overwhelmed, and it feels liberating to communicate my needs openly.
Another huge improvement has been in my marriage. It’s like my wife is finally meeting the real me, the version of myself that I’ve kept hidden, even from her, for so long. There’s a new level of understanding between us, and I feel more accepted than I ever have. It’s strange to think that we’ve been together for 12 years, yet in many ways, we’re just getting to know each other now. If you’ve ever felt like you’re wearing a mask, you’ll know what I mean. The mask is off, and it’s a relief for both of us.
What would you still like to change?
I’ve always wished I wasn’t so socially awkward, but I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that this might never change. And that’s okay. It’s a part of who I am, and maybe it’s time to stop fighting it. But there’s a part of me that longs for the ease of communication I experienced when I was a substance abuse counselor. For several years, I was able to communicate without stumbling over my words, without the anxiety that usually clouds my thoughts. I didn’t stutter, didn’t have brain farts—I just spoke clearly and confidently. Looking back, it’s almost surreal because that version of me feels so distant now. But in that role, I was in my element. Since I left that field, I haven’t felt that level of eloquence or ease in conversation, and I miss it.
It’s worth mentioning that while I communicated flawlessly at work, I was still the complete opposite outside of it. It’s a strange contrast and one I don’t fully understand. But that experience showed me that it’s possible for me to communicate well, even if it’s situational. So, if I could change one thing, it would be to bring some of that communication confidence into my everyday life.
Can you tell me a bit about a special interest you have right now or have had in the past?
People have always fascinated me, almost obsessively so. I observe from a distance, taking in everything—body language, tone of voice, the way they interact with the world. It’s like I have a built-in radar for understanding people’s intentions and reading between the lines. I rarely struggle with figuring out what someone’s really saying, even if they aren’t saying it outright.
This interest in people has driven me to devour memoirs, documentaries, and, for a long time, true crime. There was something endlessly fascinating about trying to understand why people do the things they do, especially in extreme cases like serial killers or psychopaths. I’ve probably read hundreds of books on the subject, each one feeding my curiosity about the darker sides of human nature. It’s not that I’m drawn to the violence itself, but more the psychology behind it, the question of what makes a person cross that line.
What would you tell your pre-diagnosed self if you could?
I’d tell myself that something life-changing is just around the corner, something that will give me a reason to live, and that I don’t have to feel despair. I’d say, “Hold on just a little longer because the darkness you’re in right now isn’t permanent. There’s a reason you feel different, like you’re not fitting in the way others seem to. And that reason, once you discover it, is going to change everything. It’s going to give you the clarity you’ve been missing, that vital piece of info that will make your past start to make sense.”
I’d also want to reassure myself that there’s nothing fundamentally wrong with who I am. All those years of self-doubt, of wondering why I couldn’t just be like everyone else, they were because I was trying to force myself into spaces and ways of being that weren’t made for me. I’d tell myself that being different isn’t just okay, it’s the key to understanding and embracing who I am.
Oh, and the struggles, the emotional turmoil, the constant questioning? They’re not signs of weakness. They’re signs of a mind that’s wired differently, uniquely, and that’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s something to learn from, to grow into.
I’d also remind myself that the journey to self-discovery isn’t always easy, but it’s worth it. When you finally realize that you’re autistic, it’s going to be like flipping on a light switch in a room you didn’t even know was dark. And yes, there will be challenges ahead, but you’ll also find strengths in yourself you never fully understood. You’ll learn to see the beauty in those differences, the strengths in the things that once felt like weaknesses, and the value in your unique perspective.
Most importantly, I’d tell myself to be patient and gentle with my journey. It’s okay that you don’t have it all figured out right now. In time, you’ll find that the things that once seemed insurmountable are actually manageable when viewed through the right lens. And you’ll come to see that there’s a whole community of people out there who get you, who’ve walked this path, and who will welcome you with open arms. You’re not alone, and you never were—it just took a little while to find your tribe.
I hope you enjoyed this Q&A. If you would like to be featured as part of this series, please contact me. I’d love to share your story!
This is so encouraging to read! Thank you. I resonated with so much. This is something I'm still coming to terms with - that perhaps I'm just never going to feel comfortable in certain environments because I'm different.
"All those years of self-doubt, of wondering why I couldn’t just be like everyone else, they were because I was trying to force myself into spaces and ways of being that weren’t made for me."
Ang! I am so grateful for the depth of your shares. I needed to read something like this this morning, and your interview feels like a well-timed gift.
Has anything in particular helped you understand your auditory processing needs?
Also, have you watched any of Kristen Johnson's documentaries??! I love love love Cameraperson and Dick Johnson is Dead, and I'm kinda wondering if you might, too...