Last week, I completed a neurodiversity assessment with a doctor from Psychiatry UK and was diagnosed with ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) with mild ADHD. I felt like though years of unspoken frustration were finally acknowledged. Like The Truman Show, I suddenly realized that most people experience life more easily and happily, while I have spent over twenty years imitating and learning how to fit into society.
As a high-functioning autistic woman, I appear almost no different from others: I can live independently and communicate effectively. Yet I have always felt different and lonely. With age, the mental strain and loneliness caused by this difference have grown stronger. Many things that others grasp instinctively require me to use brain to thinking. Additionally, I am more sensitive to external stimuli such as noise or texture, which often leaves me exhausted.
When I told my parents and a few close friends about the diagnosis, they were surprised, concerned but confused, thinking I was overanalyzing. I understand their reaction. In their minds, I am intelligent, friendly, and capable, nothing like their image of autism who struggles with speech or social behavior. One friend asked why I insisted on getting a diagnosis if it didn’t affect my “normal” life or lead to treatment, especially after waiting on the list for six months.
For me, the diagnosis holds profound meaning. It has resolved decades of confusion and pain, explaining why I have always had to work so hard to fit in and why I experience obsessive thought patterns invisible to others. I discovered that many things I once thought “normal” were not. Most people easily notice physical or emotional discomfort, which is hard for me to recognize. For example, I might become irritated because I forgot to go to toilet all day or was extremely thirsty, yet fail to realize the physical cause behind the emotion.
Besides, this diagnosis made me feel my real self that I had hidden behind a mask for so many years was finally seen. I remembered when I was a child, I refused to wear any tight clothes and sweaters, even those knitted by my grandmother. I always felt guilty for my picky and seeming ungrateful. But now, I understand that it was sensory sensitivity, not defiance. I felt immense relief, as if I had received an official notice declaring that I had never been guilty.
Yet, to be honest, my family and friends’ initial reactions left me slightly disappointed. I know they love me, but they cannot truly feel my world or understand the challenges it brings. This made me realize how little awareness of neurodiversity exists, especially in China, where autism is still equated with being nonverbal or socially withdrawn. Those with milder ASD or ADHD symptoms often recognize themselves only through personal exploration.
For this reason, I now have a strong desire to express the autistic experience through art — to help others see, understand, and reduce bias. I want people to know that difference is not a flaw, but another way of being. Previously, my artistic research mainly focused on philosophy and physics — broad, external themes. After being diagnosed with autism, I realized the meaning of exploration life not only in observing the universe outside, but also in perceiving one’s own existence inside.
Each person observes the world through a unique identity, experience, and sensory lens. As someone on the autism spectrum, I hope to use art to record and translate this perception. I believe art is a medium of understanding, acceptation, and embraced.
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