There’s a strange catharsis in finding out you’re neurodivergent, a kind of epiphany that there’s a reason why things are the way they are. As a result, we exhale for the first time in years, lean into our autistic traits a little, let our mask slip and … well, we pay the price almost immediately. We learn very quickly that our unmasked selves are simply not welcome and so we hurriedly fix our masks back on – nail them firm for fear of them dislodging – and realise we’ll never be free to be ourselves.
