anxiety

Why So Many Gen X Women Are Only Now Realising They're Neurodivergent

Finally understanding yourself can feel like coming home—and there’s a reason why it’s happening now.

The Lost Girls of the 70s and 80s

Growing up in the 70s and 80s, I always felt a bit… different. Not in a way I could explain, but I noticed it when I watched other girls. They seemed to move through life effortlessly, while I spent hours agonising over things like what to say in a conversation or why the hum of the classroom lights made me want to crawl out of my skin.

Back then, no one asked, “Could she be neurodivergent?” That wasn’t even a word most people knew. ADHD and autism were something boys had—usually the ones bouncing off the walls or interrupting the teacher. If you were a girl who was quiet, dreamy, or just “too much,” you were labelled shy, sensitive, or difficult.

I was the “dreamer”. Teachers wrote things like “so much potential, if only she’d focus” on my report cards. And so, like so many other girls, I grew up assuming the problem was me.

Do You Recognise Yourself Here?

Neurodivergence looks different in women, and we’re masters of hiding it. Do any of these feel familiar?

You feel exhausted after social interactions, even when you enjoy them, because you spend so much energy “getting it right.”
You’ve always struggled with time management, often showing up too early or frantically late.
You find yourself hyper-focusing on hobbies or work, losing hours in what others might dismiss as “random obsessions.”
You replay conversations in your head, analysing every word, worried you said the wrong thing.
You’ve been called “too sensitive”—to sounds, textures, bright lights, or even emotions.
You’ve struggled with emotional regulation, feeling like you’re either “too much” or completely numb.
Routine and structure bring you comfort, but unexpected changes can throw you into chaos.

If you’re nodding along, it might not just be “quirks” or “bad habits.” It might be neurodivergence.

The Art of Masking: Hiding in Plain Sight

If you’re a Gen X woman, you might relate to this: the ability to mask. It’s like a superpower—one you didn’t ask for and didn’t realise you’d been using your whole life.

I remember rehearsing conversations in my head, trying to predict every possible response, so I wouldn’t sound “weird.” I watched how other people moved through the world—how they smiled, how they laughed—and I mimicked them, hoping no one would notice I didn’t quite fit.

But masking isn’t free. It takes energy. For years, I didn’t realise why I’d come home at the end of a workday and feel utterly drained, or why social events left me buzzing with exhaustion. I just thought I wasn’t as resilient as other people. It wasn’t until much later that I realised the truth: I was spending all my energy trying to fit in.

Perimenopause: The Great Unmasking

Then came my forties. Perimenopause hit like a freight train—brain fog, sensory overload, emotional rollercoasters. Everything that had always been a struggle became… impossible.

I’d always prided myself on being “organised enough.” Suddenly, I couldn’t keep track of my to-do list, let alone juggle work, family, and life. I felt like I was failing at being a functioning adult.

One day, a friend casually mentioned she’d been diagnosed with ADHD at 47. “Wait,” I said, laughing nervously, “isn’t that a kid thing?” She described her symptoms, and it was like hearing someone read out my diary. That conversation was the nudge I needed to start digging into my own brain.

When I finally got my diagnosis, it was like a veil lifted. All the things I’d beaten myself up for over the years—forgetting appointments, zoning out during conversations, my intense need for quiet time—they all had a reason. It wasn’t a failure of character. It was neurodivergence.

Relief, Grief, and Everything in Between

A late diagnosis can feel like a lightbulb moment. Suddenly, my life made sense. I wasn’t broken—I’d just been trying to live in a world that wasn’t built for brains like mine.

But alongside relief often comes grief. You might wonder how life could have been different if you’d known sooner. How much easier school, work, or relationships might have felt with the right support.

I wish I could go back and tell my younger self:
“You’re not lazy. You’re not too sensitive. You’re not failing. You’re just wired differently, and that’s okay.”

Checklist: How to Move Forward After a Diagnosis

Find your tribe: Seek out neurodivergent communities online or in person. There’s nothing quite like hearing someone else say, “Me too.”
Let go of old labels: Lazy, messy, difficult? Drop them. They never belonged to you in the first place.
Experiment with what works for you: Try time-blocking, sensory aids, or noise-cancelling headphones to make your life more manageable.
Be kind to yourself: Remember, you’ve spent decades surviving in a world that wasn’t designed for your brain. That’s no small feat.
Seek support: Therapy or coaching, especially with someone who understands neurodivergence, can be life-changing.

Most importantly, give yourself permission to do things your way. It’s not about fitting in anymore—it’s about thriving.

You Were Never Broken

Here’s what I want you to know: discovering your neurodivergence doesn’t change who you are—it explains who you’ve always been.

You were never too much or not enough. You were always extraordinary, even when you didn’t have the words to describe it.

This isn’t the end of your story. It’s the start of a new chapter—one where you can embrace who you are, unapologetically. Because you’ve always been worthy, just as you are.

If this resonates with you, share it with someone who might need to hear it. We’re rewriting the narrative for women like us—and it’s never too late to start.

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