When it hit me, it hit me like a truck. I was diagnosed around 35, and after bouncing through the relief, euphoria, and anger (pretty much as OP described them) I was hit with a crushing sense of loss - I literally felt as though someone close to me had died - but who? I was fortunately in therapy as part of my diagnosis, and it took the doctor to say “Who died? You did.” for me to understand. The person I lived my entire life as had ceased to exist - that was a very unhappy person, constantly struggling, constantly suffering for reasons they couldn’t see. But it was me, and now they were gone. It was a brutal experience, but it gave me the freedom to start redefining my life.

You got this. Adrenaline is fuel for the fire.

Fuck off with that shit. ACAB

This all rings incredibly familiar to me. I was diagnosed a couple of years ago, mid 30s. Like you, I didn’t want to be labelled, I was skeptical of medication, of being judged or ostracised.

But the liberation of learning that I wasn’t broken, wasn’t useless and lazy, that there was a reason for all of the things tearing me apart every day, was indescribable. Just getting the diagnosis did so much for my outlook and approach to life.

And the meds. I took the first baby dose and it was like the sun came out for the first time in 30 years. They didn’t make me ‘normal’, didn’t take away any part of my ‘self’, it was more like opening valves in my mind which had never been more than a quarter open before. Ever drive a car with a couple of cylinders not firing? Get those sparkplugs replaced and see what it does. Full throttle is amazing.

I don’t tell people I have a diagnosis unless I think it’s relevant. But I can be more honest and open about my peculiarities than I could before - and noone cares! Diagnosis, medication, these are between you and your doctor. But if it gives you the freedom to live the way you want, it’s all worth it.

Not a woman, but every word here strikes home. Noone cares that you’re breaking until you break.