“A diagnosis is a personal thing and there’s no one way to react to anything in this world, but for me, it changed everything,” says Rhi. “It confirmed that I am not faulty, it confirmed that I am just fine the way I am.” I’m glad someone out there feels that way as a late-diagnosed actually-autistic person. I don’t. I did, a bit, for awhile, in the near-term aftermath. Nonetheless, I still can’t support myself, and having been unable to find a mental health practitioner I’ll probably have my food support taken away next year, because there’s no one to confirm that, yes, I really still cannot try again to work after the last attempt felt like being psychologically mugged, even though it was over a year ago now, and even without the stress of trying again I’m nonetheless in another autistic burnout. So, no, I still feel faulty. I still feel as if I very much am not just fine the way I am. I’m tired, and I’m effectively of no use, and I’m just sort of flat inside because of it.