I have autism and ADHD. Finally I understand why I have no friends – Annabel Fenwick Elliott

Women commonly go undiagnosed with autism because they are better at masking symptoms than men. Photo / Getty Images

THREE KEY FACTS

• Annabel Fenwick Elliott was diagnosed with high-functioning autism at 38.
• The diagnosis, alongside ADHD, improved her life and relationships.
• Elliott emphasises the value of diagnosis for better self-awareness and reducing the need to mask.

Annabel Fenwick Elliott’s TikTok followers told her she had classic autistic traits, so she went to get tested – and it changed her life.

I wouldn’t call it an excuse. But it’s certainly an explanation. At the age of 38, I have been diagnosed with high-functioning autism, and it goes a long way to account for the fact that I am, for the most part, friendless. It’s the reason, too, why I’d rather drink bin juice than make small talk, why I must always sit in the corner, can’t tolerate overhead lighting, eat the same meal over and over for months at a time and why, in all seriousness, I have spent most of my life feeling acutely uncomfortable.

Now I know I have it, in addition to ADHD, which I was diagnosed with four years ago and is a common co-morbidity, my life has already changed measurably for the better – so for anyone who thinks these sorts of labels are pointless, I can explain why they’re not.

In the end, it was my so-called honesty on social media that gave it away. Some people praise me for speaking my mind and others, of course, admonish me for it, but either way, whenever anyone calls me brave for being blunt, it baffles me. I’m never trying to be controversial, nor am I being courageous when I state my unfiltered opinions. Rather, I have always found it strange that most people are so reluctant to do the same.

I never once, however, suspected I had autism, largely because my understanding of it was limited to those on the far end of the spectrum; those unable to communicate normally or to lead independent lives. It was only after I started a TikTok account a few years ago, which has since amassed more than 80,000 followers, that people in ever increasing numbers were speculating in the comments that I had it. It was often users who said they worked in the field or were related to someone autistic, and it was coming up so frequently that eventually I started looking into it. After extensive research and the realisation that I did very much fit the bill, I paid nearly £1000 ($2,300) for a private assessment and was diagnosed, following a series of tests, by a psychiatrist last month.

ADHD and autism commonly occur together – the term AuDHD is used to describe both. Photo / 123rf

Women, as it turns out, commonly go undiagnosed because they are so much better at masking the symptoms than men are. Sure enough, my brother, who is also currently in the process of being assessed for autism (it’s highly genetic), is far more pronounced in the typical traits than I am. But looking back, I have always put an enormous amount of effort into disguising my nature and acting in a way that I perceive to be socially acceptable.

That was a colossal waste, given I’m not actually very good at it. I can just about make friends, but I rarely keep them. I always end up saying the wrong thing, or unwittingly offending people; not taking the right things seriously enough or hugely overreacting to something trivial. It is probably no coincidence that I have always found it mercifully easy to get on with other autistic people, not that I ever put two and two together at the time.

Already, just weeks after being diagnosed, I have made a conscious effort to “un-mask”, as it’s known in the field, and the difference, according to my husband, has been profound. Now that I’ve ceased to cosplay as a normal human, I’m actually easier to be around. It has freed up much-needed RAM in my brain and the result is that I’m more relaxed.

We had a minor squabble on the phone the other day about some plans that had changed (not a scenario I ever handle well) and I realised halfway through that I was in the wrong. Instead of including him in my own meltdown, as I would have in the past, I simply said something along the lines of: “Sorry, I’ve had a short-circuit, I’ve now noticed that I’m behaving unreasonably, but unfortunately I can’t revert to a neutral state immediately so can I call you back when I’m not being insufferable?” Crisis averted.

The reason I think so many people picked up on my autism on TikTok is because I don’t censor myself the way I do in real-life interactions. I’m merely talking to an inanimate object (my phone), and when I started, I assumed no one was even watching. What I have learnt from this is that I am more likeable as an openly autistic person than as a person who is pretending not to be autistic. I sincerely wish I’d known this sooner.

My career has been largely unaffected (writing is a solitary job and I’ve probably benefited from not mincing my words) but my relationships have long caused me problems. In recent years I’ve given up trying to make friends, but in my youth I desperately wanted to be ushered into a social circle and was always either rejected upfront or spat out in the end. So when I got to university and finally found someone I clicked with, and who became the only best friend I’ve ever had, losing her 10 years later was profoundly heartbreaking. I’ve written about Claire extensively and I know, even seven years after we fell out, that I’ll never stop missing her.

I can also much more accurately pinpoint what went wrong, now that I know and understand autism. People, for me, are largely like topics. Most topics bore me, and I’m bad at hiding that, but when I find something that interests me, I hyperfixate. I can tell you an awful lot about the pathology of contagious yawning, for example – I’ve always referred to that as a “fact package” which I can break out in social situations, with great relief, because it gives me something to talk about.

Other humans are the same. I seldom come across someone at a party who I want to spend time or energy on, but when I do, I could talk to them for hours. The reason Claire and I fell out in the end was because I had become too intensely invested. For most of our friendship, our bond was reciprocal and we had a lot of free time for one another. When she got engaged, and her interests and priorities changed, I failed to adapt. Reading back on one story I penned on the topic, I was being textbook autistic. I wrote in 2018: “When I met Claire to toast her engagement, I fluffed my lines. I said the wrong thing about her ring, she later told me, in agreeing with her on something when I wasn’t supposed to. Such basic chatter, but it felt like the script had changed while I wasn’t looking and this new one might as well have been in Russian.”

I genuinely don’t think I would have lost Claire had I been diagnosed earlier, for the same reason my relationship has already improved with my husband now that both of us better understand my weirdisms. It’s why there is so much value for those of us with such different neurological wiring to understand it and have a term for it.

I liken it to the weather. Back in ancient times, lightning storms must have been terrifying, especially when you were taught (incorrectly) that they were the work of wrathful gods. Now that we know what they actually are – climatic electrical discharges – it doesn’t stop them from happening, but most of us find them interesting, even marvellous to witness, rather than a terrible omen.

Now that I have been ordained with both autism and ADHD (technically, that makes me “AuDHD”), will I be out shopping for more labels? Absolutely not. There is a misconception that in seeking diagnoses for various mental ailments, people these days are just looking for excuses. Even in the process of being assessed for autism, I was sceptical, and asked the psychiatrist whether he ever had to tell patients that no, they were not autistic. It did happen, he told me, but for the most part, by the time someone has got to the stage where they have paid to sit in that chair, there’s a good chance they were right in their suspicions. Very few neurotypical people would go to the trouble; just as I, someone who has never had issues with food, would not end up at a private eating disorder clinic asking a doctor whether they thought I might be anorexic.

What my diagnosis has brought me is immense relief, certain practical adjustments, and the very interesting social experiment that is un-masking. I don’t partake in small talk any more. Is that awkward? Yes, but it also saves time. I no longer tie myself in knots feeling guilty about the fact that I can’t tolerate parties or crowded places. That will never change, and there’s no point pretending otherwise. I wear sunglasses a lot more when I’m outside (it turns out that the sun counts as overhead lighting – groundbreaking!) and find I can last a lot longer before having to scurry back inside again.

In short, the storms continue to roll in, but they’re not scary now. I don’t feel punished by them, I study them. It is an infinitely easier way to live.