After my autism epiphany in 2018, I set up the Twitter account AusomeCharlie and discovered a plethora of relatable tweets bearing the hashtags #ActuallyAutistic and #Neurodiversity. This online community of (mostly) mutually supportive people on my wavelength helped me to realise I was not alone in my struggles.
Reading about the ‘Neurodiversity Paradigm’ helped me realise I was not broken, just different, and that I needed a different approach, helped me to rebuild my tattered self-esteem. Reading about this concept was a turning point for me. I started to develop self-compassion and strategies, and to self-advocate for my needs.
For many adults who have an epiphany like mine, realising that neurodevelopmental difference(s) could explain their challenges, self-diagnosis usually comes first.
Despite what cynics and gatekeepers may insist, self-diagnosis is not some snap decision based on relatable social media posts; yes, social media may lead to the epiphany, but self-diagnosis comes from extensive research, introspection and retrospection.
An official diagnosis can rubber stamp what we have already found out about ourselves, and in any case is a privilege denied to many marginalised people. There are many barriers to diagnosis, and not just interminable waiting lists. Screenings may be biased and discriminatory, diagnostic criteria too rigid and stereotypical, excluding marginalised genders, Black and minority ethnic people, and more.
In any case, ‘neurodivergent’ is an opt-in self-label, and anybody can call themselves ‘neurodivergent’ if they acknowledge that their brain works differently from societally perceived ‘normal’. The word ‘neurodivergent’ is, by design, a tool of inclusion, not exclusion.
Ausome Charlie 
I would have never discovered that I was autistic without social media. For me it Instagram and YouTube. I went for formal diagnosis after learning everything I could because I knew no one in circle would take me seriously without it. Which is kinda sad.
LikeLike