A Conversation About Late-Diagnosed Neurodivergence

Sandi Konta
Jul 3
3 min read

In this episode of Done Being Good, I sat down with my friend Tiff —a postpartum educator and placenta encapsulation specialist—for a deeply personal conversation about discovering we are neurodivergent as midlife women.

Neither of us had any idea for most of our lives. But once we figured it out, everything started to make sense.

We’re not experts. We’re women in midlife who spent decades performing, overfunctioning, and trying to fit in, until our bodies—and our kids—forced us to pay attention.

What we found was a whole new way of understanding ourselves.

From “I Had No Idea” to “This Changes Everything”

Tiff’s journey started with a joke from her partner, a strong sense of justice in her son, and an accidental discovery through TikTok. Mine began when a friend gently suggested I look into ADHD—and for the first time, something clicked.

We talked about the signs we missed, the ways we coped, and how society never gave us the tools or language to understand what we were experiencing.

We’d both internalized the same messages: that we were too much, too loud, too sensitive, too distracted, not enough. We learned to mask, to shrink, to overdeliver.

And we were praised for it.

The Weight of Masking—and the Relief of Letting It Go

Masking is what many late-diagnosed women recognize most: the constant effort to fit in, hold it together, and not be a burden.

It shows up as small talk when we’d rather go deep. Overcommitting when we’re already overwhelmed. Cancelling plans last-minute because we know we can’t fake it that day.

Tiff put it perfectly, “We never really fit the box, but we contorted ourselves to fit inside it. Now, we’re just not trying anymore.”

Realizing we’re neurodivergent has meant unlearning the rules we thought we had to follow. It’s meant more compassion for ourselves. More boundaries. More no’s. And—maybe most importantly—more yeses to the people and spaces that actually feel good.

Parenting Through a New Lens

Both Tiff and I have children who are also neurodivergent. And while that adds its own layer of complexity, it’s also brought tremendous clarity.

We see our kids more clearly. We understand their challenges in ways we couldn’t before. And we’re building relationships based on acceptance instead of expectation.

It’s also made us grieve the versions of ourselves that were never supported.

As Tiff shared, “I didn’t know I was behind the eight ball my whole life. But now that I do—and I’m still standing—I see how amazing I actually am.”

The Cost of Not Knowing

There’s a kind of grief that comes with late diagnosis. It’s the pain of looking back and realizing how hard you were on yourself for things that were never your fault.

The anxiety. The shame. The burnout. The belief that you were broken.

For me, the realization that my brain simply works differently—not worse, just different—has been profoundly healing. It helped me understand why I was always exhausted. Why I felt like I was missing from my own life. Why performing “goodness” was slowly killing me.

Welcome to the Club

If you’re reading this and wondering whether you might be neurodivergent: be curious.

Start paying attention to what resonates. Take the online assessments (and take them more than once, if you need to). Talk to people. Watch the videos. Read the books.

You’re not alone.

And you’re not making it up. If you have a strong sense that you are neurodivergent, you probably are. Self-diagnosis is valid.

This discovery can be a turning point. Not because it solves everything, but because it opens the door to self-compassion, self-trust, and relief.

Your life may slow down. You may finally exhale. You may stop pretending.

And in that space, you may start to feel more like yourself than you ever have.

Watch the full episode

Resources Mentioned

Learn about Tiff

Tiff is a postpartum educator, perinatal mental health specialist, and AuDHDer. She teaches from a feminist, neurodivergent, anti-capitalist lens because deep-breathing hacks won’t fix systemic harm. Moms deserve better.