Tomorrow is D-Day

I have my formal Autism assessment tomorrow morning.

To say that I’m terrified is an understatement. I’m turning myself in knots with what-ifs, because I’ve never been so scared—never felt like a piece of my identity could be lost.

Ever since learning about autism, it feels like I’ve found myself, finally. Traits that were used as ammunition against me have become things I can accept, because I finally had an answer. Everything made sense. Nothing has ever clicked like realising I’m autistic.

And yet tomorrow, the evaluator could very well look at me and decide I’m not autistic enough, or not autistic at all. That’s what terrifies me. Because if I don’t get the diagnosis, I’ll always, always wonder. I’ll revert to feeling like an alien on a planet I don’t recognise, always left wondering about what could have been. I might feel confident enough to seek a second opinion, but I probably won’t; people who seek second opinions are seen, in the medical community, as being in denial. And even if I get a diagnosis the second time around, I’ll question that too!

I just hope, with everything I have, every fibre of my being, that I’ll be seen and recognised tomorrow, and I’ll finally have an answer. Because I know I’m autistic. I know it just as sure as I know I have green eyes and brown hair. It’s just a fact. My brain is wired differently. I just need the professional to see that.

Wish me luck.