Does Diagnosis Really Make a Difference?

When I look back at the pictures of me before I was diagnosed as autistic, it’s hard to recognise that person. The sadness in my eyes, the depression that consumed me, the overwhelming mental health struggles that defined my existence. I thought I was broken. I thought I was stupid. I felt like there was something really wrong with me. I felt lost, without hope, like I was fighting a battle nobody understood or cared about.

And then, at 19, I was told I was autistic.

It didn’t happen overnight, of course. There was no sudden transformation. Life didn’t magically get easier just because I had a diagnosis. But something shifted inside me. Knowing that I wasn’t broken- that I was simply neurodivergent- gave me the understanding I desperately needed. It didn’t fix everything, but it opened the door to a path I didn’t even know existed.

The diagnosis didn’t make my struggles disappear. In fact, the challenges I face as an autistic person are still here, and some days, they feel even heavier. But now, I understand why I struggle. I understand how my brain works, and that understanding allows me to be kinder to myself. It helps me see my challenges not as flaws but as part of who I am. That’s a gift. It’s a gift that gives me the ability to put strategies in place, seek accommodations, and access the support I need to make life a little more tolerable.

Before my diagnosis, I was a revolving door patient- constantly in and out of psychiatric hospitals, struggling to keep it together. I was told there was no hope for me, that I would never change, and that I’d never find my way. My future felt bleak. I believed the narrative that I was broken beyond repair.

But now? I’m living on my own in London, back in education, and have worked with over 25 organisations in the UK. I have a blog and a podcast, and I’m using my voice to advocate for neurodivergence, true inclusion, and social justice. I’m standing up for the things I believe in, and I’m trying to create spaces where people like me—neurodivergent, mentally ill, or just different—don’t have to hide who they are.

That’s where the privilege of diagnosis comes in. It’s something that saved my life. For me, diagnosis wasn’t an excuse, and it’s not a cop-out, far from it. It was the first step in understanding myself- an explanation, not an excuse- for my struggles. That understanding allowed me to start rebuilding my life, to find my footing, and to dream of a future where I could be successful in my own way, on my own terms.

The struggle is still real. The journey is still ongoing. Life as an autistic person is incredibly hard at times. But the difference now is that I have answers. I know why I struggle. And that makes all the difference.

I’ve learned to give myself grace. I’ve learned to accept the things I can’t change and focus on what I can change. The world may not always be built for me, but I’ve found ways to make it work for me. The diagnosis didn’t fix everything- it gave me the tools to help myself. And for that, I’m grateful.

One of the biggest challenges I see is the lack of accessibility to proper assessment and diagnosis for so many people. For many, the process is long, expensive, and often inaccessible. But diagnosis- getting that understanding, that clarity- can be life-changing. It’s not a cure, but it can be a catalyst.

So, does diagnosis really make a difference? For me, it absolutely did. It’s not perfect, and it hasn’t solved all my problems. But it’s given me a chance. And that’s something I didn’t have before.

To anyone who feels lost, who feels like they don’t fit, or like they’re “too much”- I see you. You are not broken. There’s nothing wrong with you. You are simply different, and that’s okay. It’s okay to seek answers. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to be who you are.

You deserve that chance to understand yourself. Whether neurodivergence or not, we all should be able to embark on a journey of self-discovery. We have to find our own path, not for anyone else, but for ourselves. The diagnosis gave me that chance. It saved my life.

That might be the same for you, it might not- and that’s not necessarily the point. Self-discovery comes in many ways, and it begins with being willing to always be a work in progress. We don’t complete life; we ride the waves. It’s a lot, but that’s all part of the fun.

Lots of love

Hannah