Woman diagnosed with autism at 45 says decades of bullying and isolation now make sense

Amanda Nicholson says she learned this year that she is autistic, a revelation she described as helping to explain almost five decades of bullying, social exclusion and misunderstandings that began in early childhood.

Nicholson, 45, told her story in an essay published this year, recounting a first memory of exclusion at about age five when a game of tag at school led to persistent teasing and a nickname that followed her for years. "I just didn't 'get it' when it came to other children: not understanding social cues and struggling to join in with games and normal kids' chit-chat," she wrote, describing a pattern that continued through nursery, school and into the workplace.

Nicholson described sensory sensitivities that adults and teachers did not recognise at the time, including a strong aversion to the cream on top of her break-time milk and difficulty distinguishing left from right when putting on shoes. She said such differences were often treated as misbehavior, prompting punitive responses from caregivers and peers. Those early interactions, she said, hardened into a life of being labelled "weird," a stigma she carried into adolescence and adulthood.

She said exclusion extended beyond school. After leaving formal education at 15, Nicholson worked in a string of low-skilled jobs where workplace camaraderie and casual banter proved elusive. Ten years ago she joined a dating website where she met her husband, whom she later learned is also neurodivergent. She credited the relationship with offering a level of mutual understanding she had not experienced elsewhere.

Nicholson returned to education in her 30s through the Open University, earning a master's degree in creative writing. She described the experience as more accommodating than her early schooling and said she has maintained some contact with coursemates online. The late autism diagnosis this year prompted Nicholson to reassess her past and begin working through long-standing emotional scars.

She noted that several family members have also been diagnosed with autism and described the “genetic link” as part of her understanding of the condition. "Knowing doesn't change the past, but it helps me to make sense of it, and realise I wasn't just 'weird'," she wrote, while acknowledging that the emotional impact of decades of exclusion has not disappeared.

Advocates and clinicians say late diagnosis of autism in adults is increasingly common, particularly among people who are female or who have developed coping strategies that mask social differences during childhood. Those professionals note that delayed recognition can leave individuals without appropriate supports during formative years and can contribute to long-term mental health impacts, including anxiety, depression and isolation.

Nicholson's account illustrates how sensory issues and difficulties with social communication can be misinterpreted as deliberate misconduct or personality flaws when they are instead expressions of a neurodevelopmental condition. She described specific episodes, such as being excluded from play in a nursery “Wendy house,” having treats taken away for refusing to drink milk, and being mocked by classmates after sharing a belief in ghosts during a group assignment—incidents she said reinforced a sense of being fundamentally different.

The personal essay also highlighted the practical and emotional barriers many autistic adults face when seeking diagnosis and support later in life. Nicholson said that discovery of her diagnosis has allowed her to open up to her husband about childhood bullying and to start reframing how she understands her reactions and choices over the years.

Nicholson's story underscores broader questions about how schools, families and health systems identify and address autism, particularly in past decades when awareness and diagnostic practices were less developed. She and others who receive late diagnoses often point to a mixture of relief and grief: relief in finally having an explanation for long-standing experiences, and grief for the years spent enduring stigma and exclusion without adequate support.

In reflecting on her life after diagnosis, Nicholson emphasized both the persistence of emotional scars and a growing acceptance of herself. "Yes, I'm different. But I am also me. Finally I realise that's not a bad thing," she wrote.

Her account adds to a body of first-person narratives that health advocates say can inform improvements in early recognition, support services, and public understanding of autism across the lifespan.