Destination AuDHD
Finally arriving after 54 years of travelling
Last week, I received the official confirmation: I have ADHD. More specifically, I’ve been diagnosed with “Combined ADHD”, a form that brings both inattentive and hyperactive-impulsive traits to the table.
The initial discovery that I was possibly autistic came at the age of fifty with a mental health nurse’s casual suggestion. “You ever considered Autism?” It was a small question, but it planted a big seed. That seed blossomed into a diagnosis in 2020. I’ve spent the years since my autism diagnosis researching, learning, and coming to terms with what it means to be autistic.
My ADHD diagnosis has come about after reading, in that truly autistic ‘at length’ manner, numerous article and blogs — in part because the autism diagnosis still didn’t seem to completely fit. Some aspects were typically me, others most definitely not. After requesting an assessment (thankfully funded by my employer!), I finally have confirmation.
Now, I find myself back near the starting line, trying to wrap my head around AuDHD and how it intertwines with my existing understanding of myself.
Evolving Criteria
In the old days (before 2013!), it wasn’t even possible to get a dual diagnosis of autism and ADHD. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM) — a bible for mental health professionals — kept the two worlds apart. You were either autistic or had ADHD, but never both. The walls between these diagnoses were high and firm, and anyone trying to scale them was likely met with scepticism or outright dismissal.
Let’s break each down a little further, paraphrasing DSM:
- Autism (ASD)
Autism impacts communication, social interactions, and behaviour. Autistic individuals often struggle to interpret social cues, may engage in repetitive behaviours, and can develop intense, almost obsessive, focus on specific interests. The world can feel overwhelming, its unspoken rules baffling and relentless.
For me, understanding social situations has always felt like trying to read a map without a compass — possible, but far more exhausting than it ought to be.
2. ADHD
ADHD affects attention, impulsivity, and hyperactivity. Those of us with ADHD frequently struggle to maintain focus, wrestle with organisation, and find controlling impulses a challenge.
My mind is often a whirlwind of thoughts, plans, and distractions. Some days, it’s as if I’m caught in a storm, with no anchor to steady me. Other times, I’ll fixate on a task so intensely that I lose hours, completely unaware of anything else around me.
Now imagine living with both conditions simultaneously.
Living in Two Worlds
There’s a word for people like me — AuDHD. A neat little acronym that squishes together autism (Au) and ADHD (DHD), giving voice to a reality that so many of us have lived in silence for years.
AuDHD isn’t just a convenient shorthand, though. It’s a recognition that these two conditions are so often tangled up, their traits competing in a way that’s both fascinating and frustrating. It’s like trying to conduct a symphony with half the orchestra playing too fast and the other half moving at a crawl. Every note is amplified, every mistake feels monumental, and there’s no conductor to slow things down.
Some tasks need my full, undivided attention, while others demand constant distractions just to keep me moving. The balance is delicate, often impossible to maintain. It’s not laziness, as some might assume, but a brain constantly at war with itself. Throw in too many variables, and I can feel myself careening toward shutdown, where everything gets too much, and my mind simply retreats.
The World is Too Much
Walking into a room can make it feel like the universe has turned its volume up to eleven. The lights buzz overhead, loud and piercing. My clothing feels rough, scratchy, like a thousand needles pressing against my skin. That’s sensory overload — thanks to autism — and it’s a constant companion.
It doesn’t stop there, though. ADHD throws in its own twist. There’s an internal need for stimulation, for movement, for action. So, while one part of me wants to escape to a quiet, dark place, another part is seeking out noise, action, anything to keep the brain engaged. The result? Chaos. Overwhelm. A body and mind caught in the crossfire of conflicting needs.
It’s like having two parts of my brain are permanently at war.
Hyperfocus and Distractibility
Hyperfocus sounds like a gift, and sometimes it is. When it strikes, the world fades away, and I can lose myself in an interest or task for hours, days even. It’s an intense, almost obsessive concentration that’s common in both autism and ADHD. But here’s the catch — it doesn’t work on command. Need me to concentrate on a tedious job? Forget it. I’ll be flitting from one distraction to the next, leaving a trail of half-finished projects in my wake.
Focus is a tricky thing for anyone with ADHD. It’s as if your attention is constantly being pulled in different directions. Tasks that require sustained concentration become Herculean efforts, while distractions are an ever-present temptation.
Autism, on the other hand, can bring an intense focus on specific interests. It means that I can dive deeply into topics or activities I love. But when it’s time to switch from one task to another? Forget about it. The friction between ADHD’s scattered attention and autism’s intense focus makes it hard to transition between tasks, leaving me stuck in place, frustrated, and exhausted.
A Language I Was Never Taught
Socialising is a foreign language.
Socialising when you’re autistic can feel like trying to solve a riddle — reading social cues, understanding the ebb and flow of conversation — these things don’t come naturally. Autism makes it hard to read social cues — the subtle nods, the eyebrow raises, the tone shifts that most people pick up on instinctively. For me, it’s all just noise. I’d rather skip the small talk and dive into something deep, something real, but that’s not how most people operate. Throw ADHD into the mix, and suddenly I’m interrupting, losing track of the conversation, or zoning out completely.
It’s exhausting, trying to stay present, trying not to mess it up. And when I do, because of course I do, the anxiety kicks in, telling me I should’ve just stayed quiet. The fear of getting it wrong often leads to avoidance altogether — because, let’s be honest, navigating social situations when your brain doesn’t play by the rules is a bloody nightmare.
ADHD brings its own social challenges. Impulsivity leads to blurting things out, interrupting conversations, or struggling to listen when others speak. The mind is too busy darting from one thought to the next, leaving little room for the careful navigation social interactions often require.
Together, autism and ADHD create a perfect storm. The impulsivity of ADHD makes me say things without thinking, while autism makes it difficult to read how those things are received. This double whammy can lead to social isolation, frustration, and a deep sense of confusion about why interactions never seem to go smoothly.
The Fog of Forgetfulness
When it comes to what I call ‘life admin’ I’m forever trying to juggle planning, organisation, time management, and focus while riding a rollercoaster. That’s what executive functioning issues feel like for me. The ability to keep track of things, to stay on task, to meet deadlines — these are skills we’re meant to master as adults, but for me, it’s like trying to run in deep sand.
Now, throw autism into the mix. Executive function issues are just as present but take on a different flavour. Shifting focus between tasks can feel almost physically painful, and changes to routines — those sacred, life-saving routines — can throw us into a tailspin.
The impact of combining both? The distractions that come with ADHD clash violently with the need for predictability that autism demands. Something as simple as completing a work assignment or managing a household routine can become an overwhelming mountain to climb, with distractions pulling me one way and rigidity pulling me another.
If I had a pound for every time I forgot something important, I’d be rich. I’m constantly juggling responsibilities, and more often than not, I drop the ball.
A Rollercoaster I Can’t Get Off
Emotions are tricky when you have AuDHD. One minute I’m riding high, the next I’m crashing hard. I can go from calm to furious to heartbroken in the blink of an eye. Emotional dysregulation is a hallmark of ADHD, making it hard to control feelings once they arise.
Emotions often run deep as well, but they can be triggered by different things. Sensory overload or sudden changes in routine can set off emotional meltdowns or shutdowns, making it difficult to cope in the moment.
While autism can make it hard to process or express emotions in ways others might understand, the impulsivity of ADHD adds fuel to the fire. The result is often intense emotional outbursts followed by feelings of guilt, anxiety, or simply being overwhelmed.
Then there’s the rejection sensitivity, where even the slightest criticism can cut deep, like a physical blow.
Stimming and Restlessness
Stimming — those repetitive movements like tapping, rocking, or flapping — is a way to self-soothe, to manage the sensory onslaught I experience.
But ADHD’s hyperactivity means I’m constantly fidgeting, needing to move, to do something, anything. stimming and restlessness don’t just coexist; they intertwine in ways that can be both peculiar and intense. It’s as if these two forces, though different in nature, come together to form a swirling storm of motion and sensation, each one feeding off the other. What starts off as an attempt to self-soothe can quickly spiral into something more frenetic, more relentless. And therein lies the challenge.
Stimming, or self-stimulatory behaviour, is a familiar refuge for autistic individuals. It’s the body’s way of managing an avalanche of sensory input or an emotional surge. In the world of AuDHD, it becomes an essential tool for survival. It’s all about creating order in a world that often feels overwhelming, chaotic.
Stimming offers control. It blocks out the harsh lights and sounds, the sensory overload that might otherwise swallow a person whole. It’s a lifeline in times of stress, a way to ground oneself when the world spins too fast.
But then comes the restlessness, then it’s not about soothing; it’s about action. ADHD makes stillness feel like an impossibility, a curse. The body needs to move, to fidget, to do something — anything to quiet that internal motor that never quite stops humming.
There’s frustration too, an ever-present battle with stillness. Stimming might offer a moment of relief, but the ADHD restlessness claws its way back in. I shift, I move, I fidget, trying to find that elusive balance, that moment of peace that never seems to last long enough, never truly finding the calm I crave.
Finding Harmony in the Chaos
So here I am trying to undertake a tightrope walk between two powerful forces. It’s clumsy, it’s chaotic, but it’s also full of creativity, passion, and strength. Yes, I know there are challenges — there always have been and diagnosis doesn’t creat or erase them. However, understanding how these traits blend helps.
It’s not about fixing what isn’t broken. It’s about learning to embrace the unique way my mind works, finding harmony in the noise, and learning to thrive in the chaos.
