I battled low self-esteem and depression (Picture: Andrew Griffiths)
As my eyes scanned my local library’s notice board, something stopped me dead in my tracks.
Among the flyers for gardening and painting clubs, I spied one from the National Autistic Society about the challenges autistic adults face, such as struggling with daily routines, the impact of sensory difficulties in a busy world, and how relationships with others may be hard at times.
It resonated with me straight away, even though I wasn’t really sure what autism was. This was the beginning of March 2019 – and this poster is what eventually led to me getting an autism diagnosis just before my 40th birthday.
As a child, I was often drawing or reading alone – away from the hustle and bustle of everyone around me. The noise of school was chaotic and just too much, but I learnt to mask my discomfort with it.
I didn’t realise I was doing that at the time, but masking is a strategy used by some autistic people – consciously or unconsciously – to appear neurotypical. Finding it difficult to be around others, I preferred to play by myself in the school yard or simply walk around the field in an anticlockwise direction.
As a child, I was often drawing or reading alone (Picture: Andrew Griffiths)
As a teenager, I started to feel like I was living in the third person, looking at myself in the mirror and not actually realising it was me. In essence, I was playing the lead role and my life was one long film.
Adulthood brought even more challenges because it was like a fight between two worlds that I did not understand.
Sometimes it felt like I was constantly running, on charge and at full speed. While other times I was not able to complete a simple task or to speak to anybody.
A thousand thoughts would flow through my mind and I couldn’t stop them as they swirled. Words and sentences became jumbled and I became embarrassed by the difficulty that I faced in trying to form them into coherent ideas.
Sometimes it felt completely alone and that nobody could reduce the noise for me. As a result, I battled low self-esteem and depression.
I can still have difficult or challenging days (Picture: Andrew Griffiths)
In fact, I was actually in a depressive episode when I came across the poster in my local library. I was exhausted and in tears, but I ended up visiting the link to the National Autistic Society.
From there, I did a bunch of research and realised that I finally had a word to describe how I’d been feeling for almost four decades of my life. That’s when I decided to pursue a diagnosis.
I read about the extremely long waiting list for an autism assessment on the NHS – especially as an adult – so I decided to go privately. I actually approached an assessment service in March 2019 and had an initial consultation that same month.
The whole process involved a number of assessments with medical professionals and I managed to get my diagnosis by April. I was two months shy of my 40th birthday at the time – and it was a truly life-changing moment for me.  
It felt like I could finally be happy.
I was able to express myself. I was free to be me, the real me that had been locked away for so long.
I started to feel like I was living in the third person (Picture: Andrew Griffiths)
I developed a voice, one that I had struggled to use before, as I didn’t know how to convey what I really felt. I was scared I was just ‘different’ and that was all my fault.
I was now able to accept myself and realise that I am OK. Neurodiversity is a part of me and I want to enjoy every aspect of growing older as me.
Even though it feels incredible to have a diagnosis after so many years of hiding my condition, I can still have difficult or challenging days.
Sometimes my life can feel so overwhelming that I have little direction. Other times, I am so hyper-focused and distant that people become merely a distraction and I don’t want to talk to anyone.
Being alone can be when I’m most comfortable – free to stim (which is using repeated movements like hand flapping or spinning to keep calm or to express joy) to dance, be creative, and just be me. But often going days without talking means that loneliness plays a large part in my life.
Thankfully, I’ve found an unexpected salvation in an unlikely activity – bodybuilding.
Find out more about the National Autistic Society
The National Autistic Society provide help for the 700,000 autistic people in the UK and their families.
You can find out more about the help and guidance they offer here
This poster is what eventually led to me getting an autism diagnosis (Picture: Andrew Griffiths)
From as young as eight, I was always fascinated with it. But it wasn’t until I was 43 that I actually started training to undertake my dream.
I wake at 4.30am every single day and do four days of weight sessions, then three days of cardio work and posing practice. Training consists of two-hour sessions, then I go to work as a secondary school teacher in design and technology.
I even have a team to help achieve my goals – both a nutrition and posing coach. The latter helps me come up with routines to display my muscles to their fullest potential.
My confidence in bodybuilding has grown so much that I achieved my ambition of entering my first bodybuilding competition last year. This was an amazing experience, even though I was extremely nervous.
I didn’t place in the top three, but that did not matter to me. I had realised a dream and I am already preparing to compete again next year.
My confidence in bodybuilding has grown so much (Picture: WNBF UK)
At the end of the day, I am proud of myself because it is important for me to focus on what I can do rather than what I can’t do.
I sometimes wonder how different my life would be if I received an autism diagnosis earlier than 39 years old. Maybe I would’ve been able to better handle the multiple depressive episodes I went through, or not feel so tired with having to mask all the time.
That’s why I’m open about my diagnosis with the students I teach – because I want to inspire them to embrace their own differences. I believe it is important to understand each individual young person, their strengths, and what they may find difficult or challenging.
Personally, I am still learning about myself all the time – every day is a school day. But I finally feel hopeful.
It’s worlds away from where I was when I first looked up at that library notice board.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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