I spent most of my childhood going to psychiatric clinics. At the time, I knew them as “doctor’s offices.” It was obvious that I was different. There was no question that I was. I struggled with so many things socially in my life. I was living a life where everyday seemed to have its own battles. My family, yet challenged, but being the ones to seek an answer. After meddling through the diagnosis soup, we spent approximately nine years without any mental health or intellectual disability services. We continued to work in earnest to find the answer that we needed. On a Friday in an office building, we received the answer within minutes. It was the answer we had suspected all along.

The same professional had suspicions during a short visit. They were the one I had eloped from my home to avoid. They went into the town to retrieve me. They did not know the lay of the land. They believed I needed to get to the regional land-grant university. I should enter a research study by a renowned expert in the region on the diagnosis of Asperger’s Syndrome.

After going through the short battery of tests, it seemed to be a very brief consultation. This consultation was with an expert. The expert is internationally known in the cognitive, neurological, and genetic basis of autism. This expert led the conceptualization of autism as a disorder of information processing and brain connectivity. Within what seemed mere minutes, we received the answer. We had somewhat known this answer when the behaviors appeared in toddlerhood.

It was only what the start was to get to where I was today. From there, my parents and I participated in a research project. We aimed to find out the genetic causes from our family, among other things. I had begun to learn things. I started to gather the resources needed to live the best quality of life possible. I worked to find ways to improve my life. I also addressed the many things I had struggled with.

From there, I saw a pediatric psychiatrist. They worked with me and my family. We started on two different medications to help balance my mood. Others came into the mix during my time there. Still, the first two made things much better for me. They continue to do so to this day. The first seven years of living independently were a battle for me. It was the Segway to where life was worth living. Throughout all the struggles, the medicine played a pivotal part in my treatment. It helped not just with autism itself. It also balanced the mood swings that came with the co-occurring conditions linked to being autistic.

Looking back, it’s hard to believe the battle that took place for me to be diagnosed. Decades ago, it was challenging to get a diagnosis. Now, people who are middle-aged, like me, have come to seek their diagnosis just as I have. As it is often said, no two autistic people experience their life the same. My experience was definitely different from where we are today. I know we are not different, in part, because of me. Autism is real. The numbers we experience are real and so are the lives of the people who live it.