Grow with their Flow

I’ve just finished weeks of assessments—IQ testing, autism and ADHD evaluations—and now I find myself in limbo, waiting for the results. Two weeks doesn’t sound long, but when you’ve carried questions about yourself for most of your life, two weeks can feel like standing on a shaky bridge between two shores, unable to move forward.

The waiting is not silent. My thoughts keep circling:

• What if nothing shows up and it was just all my overthinking?
• What if I’m not autistic, not ADHD—just flawed?
• What if I wasted all that money for nothing?

That last one stings the most. The financial cost of these assessments is significant, and sometimes I wonder if I’ve been foolish. But then I remind myself: investing in self-knowledge is never wasted. Learning about myself is not indulgence—it’s self-investment. Even if the report doesn’t deliver the answers I expect, I’ve already gained something priceless: insight into who I am.

Because the truth is, the assessment process itself has been a mirror. It has pulled up layers of myself I didn’t even know I had buried. And I keep reminding myself: my experience is real, no matter what the diagnostic report says. The intensity I feel, the struggles, the sensitivities, the moments of brilliance and burnout—they are all part of my lived reality. Labels won’t change that.

I’ve started to notice old coping strategies and explanations I used to tell myself:

• Maybe I just find adulthood hard because I’m immature.
• Maybe being an only child slowed me down—I never learned to handle conflicts like other people did.

Those explanations worked for years, but they always carried a quiet sting. What I’m beginning to wonder now is: maybe I’m not “behind” or “immature.” Maybe I’m just different.

Looking back, I realize how often I dissociated from people when relationships got closer. Not in a dramatic way—I wasn’t pushed out or ostracised. It was quieter than that. I simply felt that I didn’t quite connect or belong, so I gently drifted away. Sometimes I knew I was doing it; sometimes it just happened without me noticing. Either way, I became an expert at distancing myself before anyone could reject me.

Now, in this pause between testing and results, all those old feelings are surfacing: the self-doubt, the questioning, the ache of not fitting in. It feels like they’re knocking on the door, reminding me they never fully left. If I push them aside again, they’ll only return stronger, like a tsunami.

So this two-week wait is not just about test results. It’s about learning to sit with myself—the younger me who never felt like she belonged, the adult me who wonders if she’s just “immature,” the whole me who is still piecing together her truth. And no matter what the report says, my experience is valid. My struggles, my insights, my way of being—they are all real.

Here’s how I’m trying to navigate it:

• Naming my fears out loud. Writing them down makes them less powerful.
• Creating pockets of calm. Walks, coffee, music—small anchors in a restless sea.
• Reframing the cost. This isn’t wasted money. It’s an investment in self-knowledge—and that’s invaluable.
• Facing the resurfacing feelings. Instead of sweeping them away, I’m trying to meet them with compassion.
• Remembering the core truth. My lived experience is real, and it matters, with or without a label.

The results will come soon enough. They may bring clarity, or more questions, or both. But they won’t change the essence of who I am.

For now, this wait is my practice ground—to sit in uncertainty, to soften toward myself, and to remember that self-knowledge, however uncomfortable, is never wasted.

And to anyone else reading this who has ever quietly drifted away from people because you didn’t feel like you belonged: I see you. You are not alone. Feeling different doesn’t mean you’re flawed. It means your path is unique, and sometimes the waiting, the reflection, and the discomfort are the very things that help you step more fully into yourself. Your experiences are real, no matter what anyone else labels them.

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Mini Toolkit for the Waiting Period

Here are some ideas on how you can try to ease the anxiety of waiting:

1. Grounding exercises: When anxiety spikes, try naming 5 things you can see, 4 you can touch, 3 you can hear, 2 you can smell, 1 you can taste. Simple, fast, and calming.
2. Journaling prompts:
   • “What am I learning about myself right now?”
   • “Which fears are real, and which are stories my mind is telling?”
   • “What would I say to a friend who felt this way?”
3. Micro-rituals of self-care: Coffee/tea, walks, music, short meditation, stretching—tiny acts that let your body relax.
4. Limit over-researching: Set a timer for 20–30 minutes if you need to read about ADHD, autism, or giftedness. Then step away. Your mind will thank you.
5. Talk or write it out: Even one trusted person or a private note can help release pressure. You don’t have to carry it alone.
6. Remind yourself repeatedly: Your experiences are valid. They are real. Labels may help you understand them, but they don’t define them.

At the end of the day, a report cannot capture the fullness of who I am. The waiting is hard, but it is also teaching me patience with myself. Whatever the outcome, my experiences are real, my journey matters, and self-knowledge is never wasted. This is not just about a diagnosis—it is about coming home to myself.

The assessment itself is a story of its own — you can read my full account in What an Adult Autism and ADHD Assessment Actually Feels Like — My Personal Experience.