How learning about our children can change the way we understand ourselves, our histories, and our relationships.

When my son was diagnosed as autistic in 1995, I did what I imagine many parents do; I started learning everything I could about autism. I went down a rabbit hole, immersing myself in whatever information I could find. At one point, I remember joking with my sister that I had spent so much time learning about autism that I thought I was taking on the same traits myself.

At the time, I didn’t know what to make of the similarities I was noticing. I could see things that seemed familiar, but I interpreted them as the result of becoming so immersed in the subject. Three decades later, I have a very different understanding of my own neurodivergence. Looking back, I can see how learning about my son opened the door to questions about myself that I wouldn’t fully explore until much later.

TL;DR

• A child’s autism or ADHD diagnosis can prompt a parent to recognize aspects of their own neurodivergence, sometimes years later.
• The way autism has historically been described and recognized has influenced who gets identified and who may go unrecognized.
• Understanding your child through a neurodivergent lens can change how you interpret their experiences, although shared neurotype doesn’t mean two people will experience the world in the same way.
• Self-recognition can bring relief, new understanding, and difficult feelings about the past.
• You don’t need to reach a particular conclusion about your own neurotype to benefit from learning more about yourself and your child

When learning about your child becomes a process of self-discovery

A child’s autism or ADHD diagnosis can change how you understand them. Behaviours that once seemed confusing may begin to make sense. You may discover that what looked like defiance was actually overwhelm, that what appeared to be inflexibility reflected a need for predictability or that difficulties with everyday demands were more complicated than they first appeared.

As you learn about sensory processing, executive functioning, emotional regulation, masking, and the many ways neurodivergence can present, you may also begin to recognize experiences in yourself. Perhaps you remember struggling with friendships as a child, finding certain environments exhausting, or feeling as though you were constantly trying to work out rules that everyone else seemed to understand instinctively. You might recognize your own sensory sensitivities, your need for routine, your intense interests, or the amount of effort involved in navigating situations that other people appear to find straightforward.

Sometimes these realizations arrive all at once. More often, they emerge gradually, as one piece of information connects with another. You might notice a similarity and dismiss it, only to encounter something else months or years later that makes you reconsider. You may even wonder whether you are seeing connections because you have become so immersed in learning about autism or ADHD.

That was part of my own experience. I noticed similarities long before I understood them in the way I do now. What I once attributed to becoming deeply immersed in autism was, in retrospect, an opportunity to recognize aspects of myself that I didn’t yet have the language or framework to understand.

Why some of us recognize ourselves much later

The information available to us matters, as does the way neurodivergence has historically been understood. Autism was long recognized primarily through descriptions and diagnostic presentations associated with boys and men, particularly those whose differences were more externally visible. Girls, women, and people whose traits were less obvious or who had learned to mask their difficulties were more likely to be overlooked or misunderstood.

This was particularly relevant several decades ago, when my son was diagnosed. The public understanding of autism was much narrower, and the information available to families did not reflect the full diversity of autistic experiences. If you didn’t fit the familiar picture, you might never have considered autism relevant to you. You could have spent years compensating for difficulties, working hard to meet other people’s expectations, or assuming that everyone found life as exhausting as you did.

Although awareness and understanding have improved, people can still go unrecognized when their experiences don’t fit familiar expectations. Some people reach adulthood before learning that their sensory experiences, social exhaustion, executive functioning difficulties, or need for recovery time might have a neurodevelopmental explanation. Others begin reconsidering their experiences only after learning about their child’s diagnosis.

Recognition and understanding are not necessarily the same thing. You can notice similarities without identifying as a neurodivergent, and you can spend years learning about autism or ADHD before beginning to understand what that information might mean for you personally.

Understanding your child through a different lens

For me, learning about autism was not simply an exercise in gathering information about a diagnosis. It was an opportunity to understand my son in a way that I believe would have been much more difficult without my own neurodivergence. I don’t mean that neurotypical parents cannot understand their neurodivergent children. Many develop a deep understanding of their children through listening, observation, curiosity, and a willingness to question assumptions about what children should be able to do.

But there can be something meaningful about recognizing an experience from the inside. When aspects of your child’s experience are familiar to you, you may have instincts about what they need or why something is difficult for them, even before you can fully explain your reasoning. You may recognize that a situation is overwhelming rather than simply frustrating, or that a response that looks disproportionate to someone else makes sense in the context of the person’s sensory or emotional experience.

Those instincts are worth paying attention to. They aren’t infallible, and our children are not simply younger versions of ourselves, but they can be a useful starting point for understanding what is happening. The important part is remaining curious: noticing what you recognize, checking your assumptions, and listening to your child rather than assuming that their experience must be the same as yours.

I also think that understanding my own neurodivergence has given me another way to consider the expectations placed on my son. It is easier to question whether a demand is necessary, whether an environment is workable, or whether a particular difficulty is being interpreted fairly when you understand that people can experience the same situation very differently. What looks like a straightforward task to one person can involve a great deal of effort for another.

This is one reason I believe that understanding neurodivergence can be valuable for families, regardless of whether every family member identifies as neurodivergent. It creates room to ask what a person needs rather than simply expecting them to adapt to what works for everyone else.

When the past begins to make more sense

Recognizing your own neurodivergence can also change the way you understand your personal history. Experiences that once seemed unrelated may begin to fit together. You might reconsider childhood friendships, school experiences, family relationships, career decisions, or the strategies you developed to manage everyday life.

In her article on parents diagnosed as autistic after their children’s diagnoses, Lally (2025) describes how one parent came to see previously confusing experiences as connected, while another gained a new understanding of the connection she had always felt with her child. These accounts illustrate how a new framework can change the meaning we assign to experiences that have not actually changed.

That process can be reassuring, but it can also bring difficult feelings. You may wonder what your childhood would have been like if you had understood yourself sooner, whether certain relationships might have unfolded differently, or how much energy you spent trying to meet expectations that were not well suited to you. You may feel relief at finally having an explanation alongside sadness about the years you spent believing that certain difficulties were personal shortcomings.

There is no single emotional response to self-recognition. Some people feel an immediate sense of clarity; others remain uncertain or need time to work through what they are discovering. You may recognize some aspects of autism or ADHD in yourself without identifying with others, and you may find that your understanding changes as you learn more.

It is tempting to look back and wonder why we didn’t recognize something sooner, especially when the explanation seems obvious in hindsight. But hindsight has the advantage of knowledge we didn’t have at the time. The language available to us, the assumptions we absorbed, the people around us, and the information we encountered all influence what we are able to recognize.

I don’t look back at my younger self and think that I should have figured everything out in 1995. I see someone who was trying to understand her son with the information available to her. The fact that my understanding of myself developed much later doesn’t diminish what I learned or the care I took in trying to understand him.

Your child’s story is not your story, even when there are similarities

Recognizing similarities between yourself and your child does not mean you share every experience, need, or challenge. Even when a parent and child are both neurodivergent, they are different people with different histories, environments, personalities, and support needs. Your child may help you recognize something about yourself, but their experience does not determine yours. 

Nor does uncertainty about your own neurotype diminish your ability to support your child. You can learn about autism, advocate for your child, and develop a deeper understanding of their needs without reaching a conclusion about yourself. You can also explore your own neurodivergence without making that exploration the centre of your child’s story.

For some families,shared neurodivergence becomes a source of connection. A parent may find it easier to understand why a child experiences a particular situation in a certain way because they have encountered something similar themselves. They may also become more aware of assumptions they have made about what should be easy or difficult. At the same time, shared neurotype does not guarantee understanding. Parents and children can have very different sensory profiles, communication styles, executive functioning needs, and emotional responses.

The goal is not to fit everyone in the family into the same explanation. It is to understand each person more fully, while allowing room for both similarities and differences.

The unexpected connections we discover

If your child’s diagnosis has prompted you to reconsider your own experiences, you do not need to figure everything out right away. You can be curious without being certain, explore descriptions of autistic or ADHD experiences, and consider what fits, what doesn’t, and what you still don’t understand. You can revisit experiences from your childhood without needing to reinterpret every memory through a diagnostic lens.

You may decide to pursue an assessment, identify as neurodivergent, or continue exploring without arriving at a firm conclusion. What matters is having room to ask questions without feeling pressured to reach a particular answer. If the process brings up grief, regret, or difficult questions about identity, support can help you make sense of those feelings alongside the practical implications of what you are learning.

In my work as a counsellor, I believe it is important to understand people in the context of their lives rather than reduce their experiences to a list of characteristics. That includes recognizing how sensory processing, executive functioning, nervous system responses, relationships, and environmental demands shape a person’s experience. For adults who are beginning to question their own neurodivergence, this broader understanding can be particularly helpful. The question is not simply whether you recognize yourself in a description of autism or ADHD. It is also about understanding how you experience the world, what has been difficult, what has helped, and what might make life more manageable now.

When I think back to my son’s diagnosis in 1995, I remember the determination to learn everything I could and the joke I made with my sister about taking on autistic traits. I couldn’t have known then how differently I would understand my own neurodivergence decades later. I don’t see that earlier version of myself as having missed something obvious. I see someone who was learning, trying to understand her child, and making sense of what she knew at the time.

Sometimes, understanding our children gives us a different way to understand ourselves. And sometimes that understanding takes years to develop. The experiences haven’t necessarily changed, but with new knowledge, language, and perspective, we may finally have another way to make sense of them.

Reference

Lally, A. (2025). An exploration of the relational experiences of a parent being diagnosed as autistic after a child’s diagnosis with autism. Murmations: Journal of Transformative Systemic Practice, 9(2), 10-22. https://doi.org/10.28963/9.2.2