As a child, I always felt different.

While other children seemed to move through life effortlessly, even the smallest things drained my energy. Many foods weren’t just unpleasant to me—the texture alone could make them impossible to eat. I didn’t like being touched, and making eye contact felt incredibly uncomfortable. At one point, my own father even wondered if I was blind.

My mother knew something wasn’t quite right. When I was just two years old, she started taking me to specialists to find out how they could help me. Back then, I was given the label sensory processing disorder. Looking back now, I realize that autism in girls simply wasn’t on most professionals’ radar.

I received sensory integration therapy to help me cope with outside stimuli. My mother even had to brush my entire body with special therapy brushes twice a day. Thankfully, I don’t remember much of that time.

Thanks to the structure and stability my mother gave me, I managed my childhood surprisingly well. But as I grew older and became more independent, life became increasingly difficult.

Making a simple phone call to schedule an appointment felt overwhelming. Working irregular hours completely exhausted me. Trying to keep up with social expectations became harder and harder.

Little by little, my energy disappeared.

First, I stopped wanting to leave the house.

Eventually, there were days when I didn’t even have the energy to get out of bed.

I knew something wasn’t right.

Why was I always so exhausted? Why did everyday life seem so much harder for me than it did for everyone else?

I started searching for answers.

I’d suspected for quite some time that I might be autistic. My uncle and my cousin had both been diagnosed over the years, and I recognized more and more of myself in their experiences.

After seeing my GP, I was referred to a therapist. Four months later, I finally had my first appointment.

She noticed it almost immediately.

During our very first conversation, she pointed out several characteristics of autism that she recognized in me. We decided to go through a full assessment. After questionnaires, multiple interviews, and an in-depth interview with my mother, I finally received my diagnosis in June 2023.

I have Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD).

Part of me was devastated.

But another part finally felt relief.

For the first time in my life, everything started to make sense.

We immediately started treatment. I received psychoeducation, created a personal warning-sign plan, and spent a lot of time learning to understand my emotions.

But despite all that effort, I didn’t get better.

In fact, I got worse.

Three months later, I found myself back in therapy.

That’s when I received another diagnosis: Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD).

As if autism alone wasn’t enough.

I spent a long time in therapy, but I was so overwhelmed that I simply didn’t have the mental space to make the behavioral changes therapy required.

Eventually, I went back to my GP.

That was the lowest point of my life.

Three panic attacks a day.

Frequent meltdowns.

Completely consumed by depression.

I kept telling myself that I should be able to fight my way through it on my own.

Eventually, I realized that willpower isn’t always enough.

I needed help.

And for me, that help came in the form of medication.

Admitting that to myself was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Somehow, it felt like failure.

Thankfully, my GP and my partner saw it differently. They helped me understand that taking medication isn’t a sign of weakness—it’s a tool that can create the mental space you need to heal.

And that’s exactly what happened.

Slowly, my mind became quieter.

I finally had room to process my diagnoses, understand myself, and rebuild my life in a way that actually worked for me.

Now I can honestly say:

There is no shame in the medicine game.

Today, I’m doing so much better.

That’s one of the biggest reasons I started this blog.

When I was at my lowest, I felt incredibly alone. I couldn’t find many people who openly shared what it’s really like to live with both autism and an anxiety disorder—not just the clinical facts, but the everyday reality.

That’s what I hope to offer here.

Maybe you’ll recognize yourself in my story.

Maybe someone you love is autistic.

Or maybe you’re simply curious.

Whatever brought you here, you’re welcome.

I hope my story reminds you that you’re not alone. That no matter how dark life may feel, there really is light at the end of the tunnel.

And until you can see that light yourself, I’d be honored to walk beside you for a while.

In this blog, I’ll share what life is really like with autism and an anxiety disorder. I’ll write about the challenges, the victories, healthy coping strategies, sensory overload, panic, and everything in between.

But above all, I want to show that even with these challenges, it is absolutely possible to build a meaningful, beautiful life.

See you in the next post.

With love,

Marissa