Hello...
And welcome to my neurodivergent page.
I've known I'm dyslexic since I was in first grade but didn't receive an official diagnosis until I was a 2nd year student at university, at the age of 27. It was also then that it was suggested I have dyscalculia (who came up with these names?) and I've since self-diagnosed as dyspraxic.
It wasn't until I was 35 that I found out I'm also autistic (in 2018).
My first client in my private practice was autistic and I thought I’d better go and study this ‘weird’ condition I’d heard lots of bad things about. I hadn't learned anything useful or substantial during my bachelors in psychology about autism or neurodiversity/neurodivergence, nor had I been taught how to work with neurodivergent people during my 3-year counselling diploma - indeed, the idea was that regardless of who you were working with, the traditional methods would apply (I now know this to be incorrect).
So, as I went about doing my own autism research (my first port of call was a free training course via FutureLearn where I was fortunate enough that the course had been co-created by two autistic researchers) and that's where I discovered was all the answers to all the bits of myself I hadn’t been able to make sense of my whole life until that point – turned out autism isn’t weird or bad but a highly misunderstood neuro-trait, surrounded by lots of harmful and unhelpful stereotypes and deeply problematic research focuses.
I've been working primarily with autistic adults since 2020 and been offering post-assessment/diagnosis sessions since January 2021 and there are many common themes in these conversations.
One of them is how eagerly we burrow into the research hole of autism - and I was no different! A few months after my self-diagnosis, I'd enrolled into a Masters (MSc) in autism research and went on to focus my dissertation on the consequences for women when receiving a late autism diagnosis (that's also when I started volunteering for SWAN - Scottish Women's Autism Network).
Another common theme is that of feeling like an imposter or fraud, worrying that we've overplayed it during the assessment to 'fool' the psychologist or psychiatrist into thinking we are autistic.
This isn't the least bit strange. Most of us have walked around feeling like outsiders our whole lives - not fitting in but not knowing why - so as much as many report feeling instant relief to find out that they're autistic and that it often comes with a greater sense of self-acceptance and compassion, many of us struggling with, what's called 'internalised albleism' - we doubt our own truth. This can be due to many reasons - we've often been gaslighted our whole lives, having our experiences invalidated and denied, and it's become second nature to do it to ourselves. Secondly, we can't just flip a switch and let go of all the stereotypes we've been fed for decades and suddenly understand autism in a new light, even though logically we do. We'll still compare ourselves - or, people we talk to will compare us - to those who seem more 'obviously' autistic and who are struggling more than us and we can end up thinking we're not autistic or that we don't deserve recognition because we're not autistic 'enough'.
So, often, part of the journey for newly diagnosed or self-diagnosed adults is to understand what autism is in its essence and pull back from unhelpful comparisons.
Another common theme is the paradox of it all. Once we receive our official paperwork that we're autistic, or when we self-diagnose, it's like this big light has been turned on - suddenly everything has changed. Our self-concept, self-perception, identity, understanding of the world and of others in it. It's huge and exciting but also a bit frightening and overwhelming. There's an element of grief when looking back at that undiagnosed child we were, suffering in a neurotypical world and there's often an element of loss, reliving our whole lives through a new lens. And the confusing paradox is that while we have all of these thoughts and feelings churning away in our already busy heads, nothing has changed at the same time! We're still just the same person, waking up in the same bed, in the same home, with the same friends, family, job, partner and/or other external circumstances. How can everything and nothing change at the same time?
I often say that finding out that you're autistic is like getting the right prescription glasses for the first time.
Our whole lives we've walked around with the wrong prescription but without knowing, so even though everything looked a bit fussy and unclear, we didn't know it could look any different.
Finding out you're autistic means finally getting the right prescription. And it's wonderful! Everything is now in focus!
But also... the colours are very bright now and shapes seem sharper and sounds are louder. It takes time to get used to wearing new glasses with up-to-date lenses in them.
There's a reason it's called a journey...
For most people when they find out that they're autistic later in life, there are a lot of questions and there are conflicting feelings.
A whole new reality has unfolded, including a new vocabulary and, whereas most describe the relief of finding out that they belong to a certain tribe and gain great joy by joining various autistic groups, others feel pressured to now conform to a new set of rules on how to be a 'good autistic person'. We learn about masking and the importance of unmasking and of disclosure and the importance of changing the autistic narrative and stand by your right to be seen and heard, and all of that is true, but it's overwhelming because does your autism diagnosis mean you have to become an activist too and even if you love activism, is autism now your primary cause? And we hear about the many deficits - labelled such by neurotypicals - such as our communication and social skills and we have to deal with the, often, conflicting thoughts and feelings around autism being labelled a disability and gaining a diagnoses that labels us disabled. We might start to question who we are and face a re-examination of our identity.
There is no handbook of how to be in this world - it's about creating your own (hence, why my business is called The Manual of You). There are no short, all-inclusive guide to answering all your questions and no smart. 10-step approach to creating a life of thriving. And, frustratingly, there is no handbook of how to be a great therapist or coach for autistic people either. What works in therapy is based on research on neurotypical, white, westerners. Just like autism research has, for decades, focused mainly on white, privileged, autistic boys with high support needs.
Working with me is figuring out what works for you - both of us without the 'how to' handbook, for better or worse. For worse, because it'd be neat with a shortcut and easy answers. For better, because we get to write the rules as they suit us. We get to question the status quo and create a new narrative that suits us.
For example, take the diagnostic criteria around poor communication skills - that's based on what neurotypicals consider good and bad communication, whereas the Double Empathy Problem research showed that autistic and neurotypicals don't agree about what good communication is. Autistic people aren't poor at it - neurotypicals just don't understand autistic ways.
Nor do autistic people 'over-explain' or 'over-share' anymore than neurotypicals under-explain or under-share (with their love for pointless small-talk) ;-)
Nor do you have to do anything you don't want to - be that unmasking or disclose to others. It's your life, so it's your choice how to live it and feel safe while doing so.
So, if you're curious about working with me - get in touch!
I've known I'm dyslexic since I was in first grade but didn't receive an official diagnosis until I was a 2nd year student at university, at the age of 27. It was also then that it was suggested I have dyscalculia (who came up with these names?) and I've since self-diagnosed as dyspraxic.
It wasn't until I was 35 that I found out I'm also autistic (in 2018).
My first client in my private practice was autistic and I thought I’d better go and study this ‘weird’ condition I’d heard lots of bad things about. I hadn't learned anything useful or substantial during my bachelors in psychology about autism or neurodiversity/neurodivergence, nor had I been taught how to work with neurodivergent people during my 3-year counselling diploma - indeed, the idea was that regardless of who you were working with, the traditional methods would apply (I now know this to be incorrect).
So, as I went about doing my own autism research (my first port of call was a free training course via FutureLearn where I was fortunate enough that the course had been co-created by two autistic researchers) and that's where I discovered was all the answers to all the bits of myself I hadn’t been able to make sense of my whole life until that point – turned out autism isn’t weird or bad but a highly misunderstood neuro-trait, surrounded by lots of harmful and unhelpful stereotypes and deeply problematic research focuses.
I've been working primarily with autistic adults since 2020 and been offering post-assessment/diagnosis sessions since January 2021 and there are many common themes in these conversations.
One of them is how eagerly we burrow into the research hole of autism - and I was no different! A few months after my self-diagnosis, I'd enrolled into a Masters (MSc) in autism research and went on to focus my dissertation on the consequences for women when receiving a late autism diagnosis (that's also when I started volunteering for SWAN - Scottish Women's Autism Network).
Another common theme is that of feeling like an imposter or fraud, worrying that we've overplayed it during the assessment to 'fool' the psychologist or psychiatrist into thinking we are autistic.
This isn't the least bit strange. Most of us have walked around feeling like outsiders our whole lives - not fitting in but not knowing why - so as much as many report feeling instant relief to find out that they're autistic and that it often comes with a greater sense of self-acceptance and compassion, many of us struggling with, what's called 'internalised albleism' - we doubt our own truth. This can be due to many reasons - we've often been gaslighted our whole lives, having our experiences invalidated and denied, and it's become second nature to do it to ourselves. Secondly, we can't just flip a switch and let go of all the stereotypes we've been fed for decades and suddenly understand autism in a new light, even though logically we do. We'll still compare ourselves - or, people we talk to will compare us - to those who seem more 'obviously' autistic and who are struggling more than us and we can end up thinking we're not autistic or that we don't deserve recognition because we're not autistic 'enough'.
So, often, part of the journey for newly diagnosed or self-diagnosed adults is to understand what autism is in its essence and pull back from unhelpful comparisons.
Another common theme is the paradox of it all. Once we receive our official paperwork that we're autistic, or when we self-diagnose, it's like this big light has been turned on - suddenly everything has changed. Our self-concept, self-perception, identity, understanding of the world and of others in it. It's huge and exciting but also a bit frightening and overwhelming. There's an element of grief when looking back at that undiagnosed child we were, suffering in a neurotypical world and there's often an element of loss, reliving our whole lives through a new lens. And the confusing paradox is that while we have all of these thoughts and feelings churning away in our already busy heads, nothing has changed at the same time! We're still just the same person, waking up in the same bed, in the same home, with the same friends, family, job, partner and/or other external circumstances. How can everything and nothing change at the same time?
I often say that finding out that you're autistic is like getting the right prescription glasses for the first time.
Our whole lives we've walked around with the wrong prescription but without knowing, so even though everything looked a bit fussy and unclear, we didn't know it could look any different.
Finding out you're autistic means finally getting the right prescription. And it's wonderful! Everything is now in focus!
But also... the colours are very bright now and shapes seem sharper and sounds are louder. It takes time to get used to wearing new glasses with up-to-date lenses in them.
There's a reason it's called a journey...
For most people when they find out that they're autistic later in life, there are a lot of questions and there are conflicting feelings.
A whole new reality has unfolded, including a new vocabulary and, whereas most describe the relief of finding out that they belong to a certain tribe and gain great joy by joining various autistic groups, others feel pressured to now conform to a new set of rules on how to be a 'good autistic person'. We learn about masking and the importance of unmasking and of disclosure and the importance of changing the autistic narrative and stand by your right to be seen and heard, and all of that is true, but it's overwhelming because does your autism diagnosis mean you have to become an activist too and even if you love activism, is autism now your primary cause? And we hear about the many deficits - labelled such by neurotypicals - such as our communication and social skills and we have to deal with the, often, conflicting thoughts and feelings around autism being labelled a disability and gaining a diagnoses that labels us disabled. We might start to question who we are and face a re-examination of our identity.
There is no handbook of how to be in this world - it's about creating your own (hence, why my business is called The Manual of You). There are no short, all-inclusive guide to answering all your questions and no smart. 10-step approach to creating a life of thriving. And, frustratingly, there is no handbook of how to be a great therapist or coach for autistic people either. What works in therapy is based on research on neurotypical, white, westerners. Just like autism research has, for decades, focused mainly on white, privileged, autistic boys with high support needs.
Working with me is figuring out what works for you - both of us without the 'how to' handbook, for better or worse. For worse, because it'd be neat with a shortcut and easy answers. For better, because we get to write the rules as they suit us. We get to question the status quo and create a new narrative that suits us.
For example, take the diagnostic criteria around poor communication skills - that's based on what neurotypicals consider good and bad communication, whereas the Double Empathy Problem research showed that autistic and neurotypicals don't agree about what good communication is. Autistic people aren't poor at it - neurotypicals just don't understand autistic ways.
Nor do autistic people 'over-explain' or 'over-share' anymore than neurotypicals under-explain or under-share (with their love for pointless small-talk) ;-)
Nor do you have to do anything you don't want to - be that unmasking or disclose to others. It's your life, so it's your choice how to live it and feel safe while doing so.
So, if you're curious about working with me - get in touch!
What I offer
- 1-2-1, neuro-affirmative, positive and strength-based, ad-hoc, psychology-informed, therapeutic coaching sessions (what a mouthful!) - book here... (please note that I only work with people 1-2-1 - so no couples or family therapy, and that I only work with adults, ideally those over 25)
- 60-minute, one-off, post-assessment/diagnosis sessions to untangle thoughts and answer questions - use the booking form at the bottom of this page
- A self-advocacy workshop (5 weeks x 1.5 hours) called NeuroStories - you can read more about that here...
My main experience is working with autistic people but majority of my clients are also ADHDers and/or dyslexics and many clients identify as HSP (Highly Sensitive Person).
Every single person is nerurodiverse - we all have a unique brains with unique pathways.
But we're not all neurodivergent.
But we're not all neurodivergent.
Borrowed from https://stimpunks.org/glossary/neurodivergent/
Language is ever evolving, especially as we learn more and adapt - just look at the growing amount of letters in understanding sexuality and identity within the LGBTQ+ world.
Understanding and trying to keep up with language development can feel overwhelming and even scary ("what if I get it wrong and someone gets mad at me?!"). Language development is meant to create inclusion and understanding and shouldn't be used to police people and hit them over the heads if they're trying to learn and want to be involved in the conversation, just because they use a non-politically-correct term. It'll be easy to tell those apart who are well-meaning and those who use language intentionally to hurt and cause pain.
As the number of people being diagnosed with a neurodivergent condition keeps rising, we might have to adjust the language of 'neurodivergent' too and, perhaps soon, 'neurotypical' will be a phrase from the past.
Diagnoses are not going up because people are being over-diagnosed but because we're still learning as a human race, just like we once thought illnesses were cured with leeches and blood-letting, we now know better, just like we're over-diagnosing heart disease or cancer, simply because we're understanding the symptoms better.
Understanding and trying to keep up with language development can feel overwhelming and even scary ("what if I get it wrong and someone gets mad at me?!"). Language development is meant to create inclusion and understanding and shouldn't be used to police people and hit them over the heads if they're trying to learn and want to be involved in the conversation, just because they use a non-politically-correct term. It'll be easy to tell those apart who are well-meaning and those who use language intentionally to hurt and cause pain.
As the number of people being diagnosed with a neurodivergent condition keeps rising, we might have to adjust the language of 'neurodivergent' too and, perhaps soon, 'neurotypical' will be a phrase from the past.
Diagnoses are not going up because people are being over-diagnosed but because we're still learning as a human race, just like we once thought illnesses were cured with leeches and blood-letting, we now know better, just like we're over-diagnosing heart disease or cancer, simply because we're understanding the symptoms better.