I Wasn’t Broken — I Was Misunderstood: My Journey to Understanding My Neurodivergent Self

"Amers"

For most of my life, I believed something was fundamentally wrong with me. No matter how hard I tried, I never seemed to "get it" the way other people did. Simple things — staying organized, managing my emotions, even trusting my own perceptions — felt like battles I could never quite win. I cycled through endless self-help books, therapy sessions, and medications, all in the desperate hope that someone, somewhere, would tell me what was wrong with me — and how to fix it.

What I know now is that I was never broken.

I was misunderstood — by the healthcare system, by the world around me, and, perhaps most painfully, by myself.

A Lifetime of Misunderstanding

I was first diagnosed with ADHD as a child. Even then, it felt like a label slapped on me without much explanation. No one ever sat down and helped me understand what ADHD actually meant — how my brain works, why I struggled to focus, or why my emotions felt so overwhelming at times. Instead, I was just told to "try harder," "pay attention," and "stop being so sensitive."

As I grew up, that diagnosis faded into the background — forgotten by doctors and therapists, and eventually, by me too. It was easier to believe that I was just lazy, unmotivated, or too emotional. Every time life got overwhelming, I blamed myself.

Over the decades, I did everything I was told to do to "get better." I took antidepressants. I tried sleeping pills. I went to individual therapy, group therapy, CBT, and every other acronym they offered me. I showed up, I tried my best, and yet nothing ever truly helped.

Not once — not once — did a single professional circle back to my diagnosed ADHD. Not once did anyone say, "Maybe we should revisit this." I felt invisible in the system, as though my struggles were just evidence of a weak character or personal failing.

What’s more, no one ever considered the possibility of Autism. The signs were always there — the sensory overwhelm, the social exhaustion, the deep need for structure, the feeling of living in a world where everyone seemed to have been handed a manual I never received. But because I could "mask" well enough — because I got good grades and learned to mimic what was expected — I slipped through the cracks.

Misdiagnosed, Mistreated, Misunderstood

I can’t even put into words how disorienting it is to live decades of your life trying to fix yourself, only to realize you were never the problem. The problem was a system that misdiagnosed me, mistreated me, and misunderstood me at every turn.

All those years of being told I was too emotional, too sensitive, too intense, too much — they weren’t signs of personal failure. They were signs of a neurodivergent brain trying to survive in a world that doesn’t understand it.

It’s hard not to feel anger about that. But more than anger, I feel relief. Because now, for the first time, I understand. I am not defective. I am wired differently.

Finding Like Minds — and Finding Hope

Everything began to change when I found Like Minds Alliance — a community where neurodivergent people support each other, learn together, and work toward understanding and accepting our differences instead of hiding them. Through Like Minds, I’ve learned more about ADHD and Autism in a few short months than I learned in my entire lifetime of therapy and treatment.

They helped me understand that I likely have Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) Level 1 without intellectual disability, something that should have been recognized years ago. They also helped me see that my untreated ADHD wasn’t something I failed to control — it was something the system failed to treat.

Through Like Minds, I’ve started learning about how nutrition directly impacts my brain health — something I had never been told in all my years of seeking help. No one ever explained how blood sugar crashes could mimic anxiety, or how gut health could affect my mood. But with this knowledge, I’m now making changes that actually help my neurodivergent brain function more smoothly.

Even more importantly, I’m learning how to work with my brain, not against it. Instead of shaming myself for needing routines, I’m embracing them. Instead of beating myself up for sensory overload, I’m giving myself permission to rest. Every step I take toward understanding my neurodivergence brings me closer to something I never thought possible — self-compassion.

Becoming Part of the Solution

The most powerful part of this journey is knowing that my story isn’t just mine. It belongs to so many women — women who have been dismissed, misdiagnosed, and made to feel like they were defective for simply being who they are. Women who, like me, masked so well that even their doctors couldn’t see the truth. Women who deserve better.

That’s why I’m not just working on myself — I’m becoming part of the Like Minds movement. Together, we’re working to change the narrative, to make sure that neurodivergent women — especially those diagnosed late in life — get the understanding, compassion, and support they deserve.

Because we aren’t broken. We are a new generation of women learning how to live fully — not by fixing ourselves, but by finally understanding ourselves. And once we understand ourselves, we can show up fully — for our families, our communities, and most importantly, for each other.

The Path Forward

If you’re reading this and it resonates, I want you to know — you are not alone. If you’ve ever felt like you were trying to run a marathon while everyone else had a map and you were left with nothing, know this: there is a reason you feel that way.

It’s not because you’re lazy. It’s not because you’re broken. It’s not because you’re failing at life.

It’s because you are neurodivergent living in a world built for neurotypicals — and no one ever gave you the tools to understand yourself.

But now, we can change that. Together.

With Like Minds, I’m not just healing myself — I’m helping build a future where fewer women have to wait decades to understand who they truly are.

We deserve that future. We deserve to be understood. And we deserve to thrive — just as we are.

With hope and solidarity, Amy Miller