I went alone and sat in a law-office-looking conference room. Two neuropsychologists came in to deliver my results. They were kind, professional, even warm. But then came the words:
“Your diagnoses are anxiety and major depressive disorder. Your cognitive functioning and IQ all tested well.”
And just like that, a sliver of me thought — “Okay, I guess I’m not neurodivergent.”
But the larger part of me… felt diminished. Griefy. Dismissed, even.
I wasn’t looking for a label. I was looking for reflection. For affirmation. For someone to name what I’ve always known — that I move through the world differently. And when the system couldn’t hold that for me, I realized: it’s not me that’s broken. It’s the framework.
These assessments measure how well your brain ‘works’. They look at reading, language, attention, IQ, etc. More on that below.
My IQ Result came back at 98 (range: 90-109). “Average. 75th percentile.” – my neuropsychologist
But here’s what that doesn’t account for:
Most neuropsychological assessments focus on:
They do not assess:
These tools were never made for people like me — or maybe you, too.
My symptoms haven’t disappeared just because a test didn’t pick them up.
So I began asking myself a new question — not, “Am I neurodivergent?”
But: “Does a neurodivergent framework explain my lived experience more fully than a purely medicalized lens of depression and anxiety?”
And my answer is still yes.
Most diagnostic criteria were developed by studying white boys. Which means they weren’t built to see us (literally ALL of us who are non-white boys).
Most traits used in diagnosis reflect how autism presents in boys — not women.
Many women become social chameleons, suppressing their traits until they no longer know what’s real.
Instead of hyperactivity, we’re forgetful, spacey, emotional, and exhausted — all traits often written off as stress or anxiety.
Because the system isn’t built to see our root cause, it treats only the symptoms.
I’m a nurse.
A mother to neurodivergent children (yes, with formal diagnoses).
An empath.
A spiritual intuitive.
A woman who has masked for so long that even I forget what my baseline looks like.
I’ve experienced ego death. Awakening. Identity collapse. Grief.
None of that is on a checklist.
But it’s real.
And I refuse to believe that my identity must be proven by a test never designed for someone like me.
You don’t need a clinical label to validate what you already know in your bones.
Maybe you’ve walked away from an assessment like I did — with a diagnosis that felt too narrow, or with no diagnosis at all.
Maybe you’ve never pursued formal evaluation, but you’ve always felt different. You relate to neurodivergent experiences, resonate with traits shared online, and see yourself in stories of masking, sensory overwhelm, or executive dysfunction.
If you’re in that space — living in the in-between — it can feel like you’re not allowed to claim your truth unless someone with credentials says so.
But here’s the truth: you are the authority on your lived experience.
There are many of us who exist outside of neat diagnostic boxes. Whether because of effective masking, gendered misdiagnosis, spiritual sensitivity, or trauma-based adaptations — we still feel the impact of neurodivergence in real, daily ways.
And there are steps you can take to explore your identity, support your needs, and honor your wiring — whether or not you have a formal label.
If you’re here and this is you, I want you to know:
If you’re looking for tools to help you unmask, self-validate, or simply feel seen — I’ve got some for you. You’re safe here. You’re not alone.
You are wildly valid — even when the tests say no.
August 6, 2025
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