Standard. Full detail. Turn on any support you need, they layer together.
Live example: these are the full standard words. Turn on Ease or Soothe, and this line itself becomes simpler.
Late-diagnosed women write to the girl they were. If you are that girl right now, read these. We are still here. We survived. You will too. If you are that woman now, write one — your words might be the proof someone needs.
At a glance
These letters are written by adults and kept safe. If you are under 18, you can read them and you can write your own — your letter goes to your younger self too.
To my 14-year-old self
You are not lazy. You are not dramatic. Your brain works differently and no one has the words for it yet. I wish I could tell you that the shame you carry about not being like the other girls is not yours. It was never yours. I got the words at 38. You will get them too. And when you do, the relief will be bigger than the grief. I promise.
— A woman diagnosed at 38
To my 12-year-old self
The teacher who called you 'away with the fairies' was wrong about you. You were not away. You were deeper in than anyone in that room. The world you built inside your head was not an escape. It was a home. I still live there. I just stopped being ashamed of it.
— A woman in her forties
To my 16-year-old self
I know you rehearse every conversation before you have it. I know you lie awake rewriting what you said. I know you mimic the girls who seem to do it naturally. Here is what I know now: they are not doing it naturally either. Everyone is performing. You just got caught being conscious of it. That consciousness is not a flaw. It is a superpower you haven't learned to use yet.
— A woman in her thirties
To my 8-year-old self
The socks hurt. I know. I know everyone said they didn't and you were being 'difficult.' They hurt. I believe you. I am sorry it took me thirty years to say that. Your body was telling the truth the whole time.
— A woman in her forties
To my 15-year-old self
You are not too much. The boy who said you were 'intense' was scared of how alive you are. Do not shrink. I know you will — I spent a decade doing it — but I am asking you, from the other side, do not. The world needs women who are too much. We are the ones who change things.
— A woman in her twenties
To my 10-year-old self
When they called you 'gifted but not living up to your potential,' they were looking at the wrong potential. Your potential was never to produce. Your potential was to feel everything, see everything, and build worlds no one else could imagine. You are living up to it. They just couldn't measure it.
— A woman in her thirties
To my 13-year-old self
The meltdown in the school bathroom was not a tantrum. Your nervous system was on fire and no one noticed. I noticed. I am noticing now. You were not bad. You were burning. There is a difference. I am learning to hold both.
— A woman in her forties
To my 17-year-old self
You will leave the job that breaks you. You will find people who do not require you to mask. You will learn the word for what you are, and it will feel like coming home after thirty years in the cold. I am writing this from home. You will get here.
— A woman diagnosed at 41