We had a minor squabble on the phone the other day about some plans that had changed (not a scenario I ever handle well) and I realised halfway through that I was in the wrong. Instead of including him in my own meltdown, as I would have in the past, I simply said something along the lines of: “Sorry, I’ve had a short-circuit, I’ve now noticed that I’m behaving unreasonably, but unfortunately I can’t revert to a neutral state immediately so can I call you back when I’m not being insufferable?” Crisis averted.

The reason I think so many people picked up on my autism on TikTok is because I don’t censor myself the way I do in real-life interactions. I’m merely talking to an inanimate object (my phone), and when I started, I assumed no one was even watching. What I have learnt from this is that I am more likeable as an openly autistic person than as a person who is pretending not to be autistic. I sincerely wish I’d known this sooner.

My career has been largely unaffected (writing is a solitary job and I’ve probably benefited from not mincing my words) but my relationships have long caused me problems. In recent years I’ve given up trying to make friends, but in my youth I desperately wanted to be ushered into a social circle and was always either rejected upfront or spat out in the end. So when I got to university and finally found someone I clicked with, and who became the only best friend I’ve ever had, losing her 10 years later was profoundly heartbreaking. I’ve written about Claire extensively and I know, even seven years after we fell out, that I’ll never stop missing her.

I can also much more accurately pinpoint what went wrong, now that I know and understand autism. People, for me, are largely like topics. Most topics bore me, and I’m bad at hiding that, but when I find something that interests me, I hyperfixate. I can tell you an awful lot about the pathology of contagious yawning, for example – I’ve always referred to that as a “fact package” which I can break out in social situations, with great relief, because it gives me something to talk about.

Other humans are the same. I seldom come across someone at a party who I want to spend time or energy on, but when I do, I could talk to them for hours. The reason Claire and I fell out in the end was because I had become too intensely invested. For most of our friendship, our bond was reciprocal and we had a lot of free time for one another. When she got engaged, and her interests and priorities changed, I failed to adapt. Reading back on one story I penned on the topic, I was being textbook autistic. I wrote in 2018: “When I met Claire to toast her engagement, I fluffed my lines. I said the wrong thing about her ring, she later told me, in agreeing with her on something when I wasn’t supposed to. Such basic chatter, but it felt like the script had changed while I wasn’t looking and this new one might as well have been in Russian.”

I genuinely don’t think I would have lost Claire had I been diagnosed earlier, for the same reason my relationship has already improved with my husband now that both of us better understand my weirdisms. It’s why there is so much value for those of us with such different neurological wiring to understand it and have a term for it.

I liken it to the weather. Back in ancient times, lightning storms must have been terrifying, especially when you were taught (incorrectly) that they were the work of wrathful gods. Now that we know what they actually are – climatic electrical discharges – it doesn’t stop them from happening, but most of us find them interesting, even marvellous to witness, rather than a terrible omen.

Now that I have been ordained with both autism and ADHD (technically, that makes me “AuDHD”), will I be out shopping for more labels? Absolutely not. There is a misconception that in seeking diagnoses for various mental ailments, people these days are just looking for excuses. Even in the process of being assessed for autism, I was sceptical, and asked the psychiatrist whether he ever had to tell patients that no, they were not autistic. It did happen, he told me, but for the most part, by the time someone has got to the stage where they have paid to sit in that chair, there’s a good chance they were right in their suspicions. Very few neurotypical people would go to the trouble; just as I, someone who has never had issues with food, would not end up at a private eating disorder clinic asking a doctor whether they thought I might be anorexic.

What my diagnosis has brought me is immense relief, certain practical adjustments, and the very interesting social experiment that is un-masking. I don’t partake in small talk any more. Is that awkward? Yes, but it also saves time. I no longer tie myself in knots feeling guilty about the fact that I can’t tolerate parties or crowded places. That will never change, and there’s no point pretending otherwise. I wear sunglasses a lot more when I’m outside (it turns out that the sun counts as overhead lighting – groundbreaking!) and find I can last a lot longer before having to scurry back inside again.

In short, the storms continue to roll in, but they’re not scary now. I don’t feel punished by them, I study them. It is an infinitely easier way to live.