My Story
Hello again and thank you for taking the time to read my story.
My name is Jilly. I have one brother and one sister, although neither of them is currently part of my life. Looking back, I now believe my undiagnosed autism played a significant role in many of the misunderstandings that led to our relationships breaking down. My mum has sadly passed away, and I am also no longer in contact with my dad.
It is heartbreaking that life unfolded this way. If I could turn back time and have had access to the understanding and support that many autistic children receive today through early diagnosis, I would. Unfortunately, that wasn't my journey.
My life has been filled with happiness, adventure, and wonderful experiences, but it has also been marked by periods of complete burnout. In my late twenties, I spent almost two years largely confined to my bed. I became very overweight, eating and drinking in my room while constantly questioning why I felt so different from everyone else. I experienced severe depression, overwhelming anxiety, and reached some very dark places, desperately searching for answers.
I spent years attending appointments with doctors, psychiatrists, and trying holistic therapies, hoping someone could explain what was happening. Following a mental health crisis, I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, where I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder (BPD). Over time, I was prescribed numerous medications, but despite this, I still felt that something didn't fully explain my experiences.
Later, while living in Spain, managing my medication became increasingly difficult, and I made the decision to stop taking it. This resulted in severe withdrawal symptoms that affected both my physical and mental health. I was admitted to hospital again during another mental health crisis.
Looking back, I now recognise that many of the behaviour’s professionals were seeing were likely autistic meltdowns rather than deliberate acts of aggression or instability. At the time, neither I nor the healthcare professionals recognised what was really happening.
I was also diagnosed with Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD) and received treatment, but I continued to struggle because the underlying cause of my difficulties had still not been identified.
Eventually, I returned to Scotland to undergo an oophorectomy as a treatment option for PMDD. Funding the surgery meant selling my home in Spain. Although the operation helped in some ways, it also brought hormonal challenges that contributed to another period of burnout. During this time, my marriage of 25 years also came to an end.
Determined to better understand myself, I enrolled on a BSc in Psychology. When the first box of textbooks arrived, I remember thinking, "What have I done?"
I continued with what I jokingly called my "wee course," and to my surprise, I thrived. I completed my first two years and was awarded a Diploma of Higher Education in Psychology before progressing into my third year.
Sadly, during that time, my mum was diagnosed with incurable cancer. It was an incredibly painful period, made even harder by difficult family circumstances that meant I was unable to spend the time with her that I had hoped for. I did my best to remain strong and be the best daughter I could.
The emotional impact of everything that was happening eventually became overwhelming. Relationships with other family members also broke down, which I believe was influenced by years of misunderstanding my undiagnosed autism. I was often viewed as someone who caused problems rather than someone struggling with a condition that no one had recognised.
At the time, I was working in the prison service, but eventually I felt unable to continue. Walking away from a career I had worked so hard to build left me feeling as though everything I had achieved had fallen apart.
I experienced another serious mental health crisis, and my GP referred me for urgent support.
Looking back, that became one of the most important turning points of my life.
For the first time, I was supported by professionals who looked beyond individual diagnoses and considered my life as a whole. One psychiatrist said words that I will never forget:
"You have been through enough. We are going to get to the bottom of this before you leave our care."
Those words changed everything.
Following a comprehensive assessment, I was finally diagnosed with autism.
Receiving my diagnosis did not erase everything I had been through, but it gave me something I had been searching for my entire life—an explanation. It allowed me to begin understanding myself with compassion instead of criticism.
Today, I continue studying psychology and hope to pursue postgraduate study in neuroscience, with the long-term goal of contributing to autism research. If sharing my story helps even one person feel understood, seek support, or recognise themselves earlier than I did, then every difficult chapter has found a purpose.
Since receiving my diagnosis, I have been on a journey of discovering who I really am, rather than the person I felt I had to pretend to be for so many years. For the first time in my life, I genuinely enjoy being Jilly.
I have created a home that feels safe, peaceful, and full of the things that bring me joy. I love spending time in my hot tub, surrounded by my garden, where I find real peace in caring for the flowers and watching everything grow. I feel incredibly fortunate to live in the countryside, where I wake up to the sounds of lambs, sheep, and horses, and can appreciate the beauty that nature offers every day.
Inside my home, I have spaces that help me recharge—my art supplies for creativity, my computer for studying and researching, and, of course, several jigsaw puzzles waiting to be completed. They all play an important part in helping me look after my wellbeing.
One of the greatest lessons my diagnosis has taught me is that supporting my own needs is not a weakness—it is essential. I am still learning to recognise when I need to slow down, to avoid situations that may lead to meltdowns, shutdowns, or burnout whenever I can, and to show myself the same compassion I have always tried to show others.
That doesn't mean every day is easy. I still have difficult days, and I know there will be challenges ahead. But now, instead of seeing those challenges as failures, I see them as part of being autistic and part of being human.
Every morning I begin again. I start my day with meditation, positive affirmations, a motivational podcast or speaker in my ears, a coffee in my hand, and then I step out into my garden.
For me, that is where healing begins.
If there is one thing I hope you take from my story, it is this: a diagnosis did not change who I am—it helped me understand who I had always been. It gave me the freedom to stop pretending, to start accepting myself, and to build a life that works for me instead of against me. That, more than anything, has been the beginning of finding peace.
Share your story
I would be so grateful if you would consider sharing your story with us.
Every late-diagnosis journey is unique, and your experiences may help another woman feel less alone and more understood. Together, we can create a collection of stories that celebrates the different paths women have taken to discovering who they are.
Please only share what you feel comfortable sharing — your story matters, and it would be an honour to include it.