Sharing my Diagnosis with Friends, Family, Colleagues and more

When I received my autism and ADHD diagnosis, I thought the hardest part was over. The waiting lists, the assessments, the hours of self-reflection — I assumed that once I had the official piece of paper, it would finally make sense to everyone else.

But in many ways, the diagnosis was just the beginning. Because the next step was deciding: Who do I tell? How do I explain it? And what happens if they don’t believe me?

If you’ve ever shared your diagnosis, or even just thought about it, you probably know the mix of relief and fear that comes with it. People often mean well, but their reactions can be complicated — sometimes supportive, sometimes dismissive, sometimes a little of both.

Here’s how my journey unfolded — and what I’ve learned along the way.

Starting Close to Home: Family Conversations

Like many people, I began with family. They were the people who had known me the longest, and it felt natural to share first with them.

Some reactions were wonderful. My parents were open, supportive, and curious to understand what autism and ADHD really meant for me. That kind of validation felt like a weight being lifted.

But there were also harder moments. Before I even had my official diagnosis, a relative suggested that I had simply “convinced myself” of something that wasn’t real. That comment stayed with me — not just because it hurt, but because it planted a seed of doubt in my own mind.

I realised then that even the people closest to you may struggle to accept or understand your reality. Preparing yourself for that possibility isn’t pessimistic — it’s a form of self-protection.

✨ Tip: You don’t owe your family a full autobiography. You can share as much or as little as you’re comfortable with. And remember: the validity of your diagnosis doesn’t depend on whether they “get it.”

Friends: The Filter Effect

Sharing with friends felt different. Part of me worried: Would they see me through a different lens now? Would I suddenly become “the autistic one” in the group?

Some friendships did shift. A few people distanced themselves, and while that stung, I also realised it revealed something important — who was truly safe and supportive, and who wasn’t.

On the flip side, I felt a huge sense of relief with the friends who responded simply with kindness and acceptance. The ones who listened without judgement. The ones who understood when I explained that my challenges weren’t laziness or personal flaws, but part of a bigger picture I was finally able to see clearly.

✨ Reflection prompt: Think about who in your life has already shown they can hold space for your vulnerabilities. Those are the people worth starting with.

Workplaces: Where It Gets Complicated

Work was the trickiest space of all.

On paper, disclosure seemed like it could be helpful. I imagined that telling colleagues might mean clearer communication, maybe even small adjustments that would make life easier. In reality, the responses were mixed.

Some colleagues began treating me like I was fragile or incapable. Others ignored the simple changes I asked for, continuing as if nothing had been said. The thing I needed most — straightforward communication — was often the thing I received the least.

So here’s the question many people ask me: “Should I tell work?”

The answer is: it depends. Think about why you want to share. Is it to secure reasonable adjustments? Is it to feel authentic? Or do you feel pressured to disclose? Each of those reasons will shape how, when, or if you tell.

✨ Practical tip: If you do share, keep it focused. Rather than only naming the label, explain the support that would make the biggest difference to your role. For example: “It helps me if instructions are written down as well as spoken.”

Stepping Into the Public Eye

Telling the world — whether through social media, blogs, or public speaking — was both terrifying and freeing.

I never expected that strangers online would offer more support and understanding than some people I’d known for years. But that’s what happened. It showed me that there’s a whole community out there who not only “get it,” but who will cheer you on just for being yourself.

Of course, going public has its downsides. There are always people who dismiss neurodivergence as a trend or accuse others of chasing labels. Those comments cut deep at first. But over time, I’ve learned to see them differently: as signs of who doesn’t deserve my energy.

✨ Practical tip: If you choose to share publicly, create strong boundaries. Use the block and mute buttons freely. You don’t need to educate every stranger on the internet. Protecting your energy is not only okay — it’s essential.

What Helped Me Along the Way

Through trial and error, I’ve picked up a few strategies that make disclosure feel less daunting:

Prepare resources. Sometimes it’s easier to share a guide, article, or video than to explain everything from scratch. Choose timing carefully. You don’t have to tell everyone at once. Start with people who’ve already shown they’re safe. Anticipate stereotypes. Comments like “You don’t look autistic” or “Isn’t ADHD just being forgetful?” are common. It’s fine to redirect with: “That’s a stereotype — here’s something you can read instead.”

✨ Reflection prompt: Before you share, ask yourself three questions: Who do I want to tell? Why do I want them to know? And what do I want them to take away from it?

The Lesson That Stuck

Looking back, the biggest thing I’ve learned is that most people don’t really understand how autism and ADHD shape everyday life. They see small surface traits, but not the deeper reality.

And that’s okay. Because ultimately, your diagnosis isn’t for them. It’s for you.

If I could go back and talk to my younger self, I’d say: This is your truth. The people who love you will accept it. The people who don’t? That says more about them than it does about you.

Final Thoughts

Sharing a diagnosis is not a one-time event. It’s an ongoing process of deciding who gets to know, how much you want to share, and when you feel ready.

Whether you’re telling your parents, confiding in a friend, disclosing at work, or writing about it online — remember:

You don’t owe anyone a performance. You don’t have to prove your struggles. You are not alone in fearing disbelief.

The people who matter will meet you with acceptance. The rest will show you who they really are.

And if you’d like resources to help make those conversations easier, I share free tools and guides every week. You can find them here.

I’m Jess, That AuDHD Mum — and as always: let’s make this space make s