Unmasking Autism in Women: My Diagnosis at 70 and Why So Many of Us Are Still Being Missed

“I don’t fit in… and I’m not going to.”

That phrase came to me again just this morning as I sat with Alan over coffee. It wasn’t defiant; it was grounding. A declaration I’ve returned to—sometimes in quiet resignation, sometimes in joyful relief—many times throughout my life. And now, in my 70s, I understand why.

This is a story about late-diagnosed autism in women, about masking, misunderstanding, and finally, coming home to oneself. It’s a story many are only just beginning to tell.

A Diagnosis I Never Expected in My 70s

I received my autism and ADHD (AuADHD) diagnosis in my seventies. The catalyst was one of the most painful experiences of my life: a deep estrangement from my oldest child, who felt hurt by some of my behaviours and responses over the years. I didn’t understand why my well-meaning intentions were so often misunderstood at the time. But the heartbreak forced me to dig deeper.

I began reading. Reflecting and re-examining everything.

And there it was. Autism. ADHD. Words I’d never imagined would apply to me, but that suddenly made everything make sense.

Why Are Autistic Women Missed?

Autism in girls and women looks different. We mask—we learn to imitate, people-please, and blend in. From the outside, we often seem “fine.” We manage complex sensory overwhelm, emotional intensity, and deep social fatigue inside.

As Professor Gina Rippon, author of The Gendered Brain, says:

“The idea of a ‘male brain’ has done real harm in how we understand autistic traits. When girls don’t fit the stereotype, they’re simply missed.”

Dr Tony Lloyd, CEO of the ADHD Foundation, adds:

“Autistic women have often gone unseen, unsupported, and misunderstood. Many spend a lifetime being misdiagnosed with anxiety or personality disorders.”

Statistics back this up:

Autistic women are three times more likely than men to be undiagnosed (NAS, 2022).
Many women don’t receive a diagnosis until their 40s, 50s, 60s or beyond.

The Masking Trap

For years, decades, I learned to play the part. I masked constantly, studied how others behaved and forced myself into their rhythms, laughed when I didn’t feel like laughing. I stayed quiet when I needed to scream and smiled through sensory overload.

This is masking. And while it helps us survive, it also erodes our sense of self.

In cultures like the UK, where politeness and conformity are social currency, masking becomes even more entrenched. I often call it the tyranny of nice—that suffocating expectation to suppress your true self in favour of appearing “pleasant,” “normal,” or “good.”

The Fallout of Being Misunderstood

Looking back, my heart aches for the younger me—the woman who tried so hard and never understood why everything felt so hard.

And it breaks even more to see how my undiagnosed neurodivergence impacted those I love, especially my children. Though painful, estrangement from my son was the key that finally unlocked the truth.

It wasn’t that I was cold, distant, or unfeeling. I was overwhelmed, masked, and trying to survive in a world that never understood me.

What Autistic Girls and Women Need

Here’s what I know now, and what I hope others will come to understand sooner than I did:

We need:

Earlier, more gender-informed diagnosis
Educational systems that understand neurodivergence
Mental health support that doesn’t pathologise us
Workplaces and families that embrace difference, not just tolerate it
Permission to be authentic, not just “nice”

We need to stop asking autistic women to change, and start changing the systems around them.

The Power of Knowing

My diagnosis was a revelation. It allowed me to forgive myself. To understand my past. To reclaim a future that feels aligned and free.

Knowing I am AuADHD gave me language, compassion, and clarity. It let me say, with a whole heart:
“I don’t fit in… and I’m not going to. And that is more than okay.”

Final Thoughts

If you’ve always felt “off,” “too much,” or like you’re living someone else’s life, consider this: Maybe you were never the problem.

Maybe you’re neurodivergent in a world that hasn’t yet made space for people like us.

If this resonates, you’re not alone. I see you. And I’ll keep telling this truth, not just for myself, but for the girls and women still out there trying to survive with a mask they never chose to wear.