Parenting James: The Long Awaited ASD and ADHD Diagnosis

 

James has always been bright, funny, creative, expressive, mischievous, troublesome and mouthy, but “different”. He never needed fixing. He just needed micromanaging. He was never purposefully naughty, despite often finding himself in trouble. For the school, it was always labelled as behavioural.

As an ex-teacher, qualified in child development and psychology, and someone who knows our son’s true character, I knew there was an underlying cause outside of behavioural issues. Nevertheless, a question mark always hovered above him.

That was until this month. 

James has been diagnosed with ASD and ADHD.

This diagnosis is not a surprise. Years of confusion, frustration and misunderstanding finally lined up and formed a picture that makes sense. He also mirrors Will’s ASD diagnosis, his Mum’s neurodivergence and many aspects that I have, which is why I’m also seeking an ASD assessment. 

In hindsight, I see the early signs. His expressive play, gender freedom, and non‑conforming taste were always part of who he was. He pushed against the idea of “boys will be boys” and the pressure to “Be a man's man and man up." He was always himself. His delayed speech and stammer and struggling with sounds and letters were not stupidity, but early markers of a brain working harder than anyone realised. His emotional intensity, sensory overwhelm, sensory seeking, getting unapologetically messy, and difficulty with transitions were not behaviour problems. They were autistic traits that no one previously recognised.

He has always struggled with eye contact. He has a fake social laugh, and while he denies it, I can always tell the difference between the real one and the one he uses. He masks by being loud and counter-cultural. He has always been fussy with clothes, only now tolerating jeans and denim.

We home educated him for a while. It suited him more than school ever did, despite bringing its own challenges. He needed one to one support and an educational style that matched his interests. He needed space to regulate, calm and understand both the situation and himself. We were already unknowingly parenting him in a neurodivergent-affirming way.

Life became harder when he returned to school. He masked until he could not, especially in environments that were not built for him. He was bullied for his non‑binary dress sense and was attacked stepping off the bus, at every opportunity. The school minimised it. He broke down, refused school and could not cope. No one listened. We knew there was more going on.

He moved to live with his maternal family to attend school. It was the wrong decision for all of us. He was misunderstood there too. Everything was labelled as behaviour. He was punished for being overwhelmed, autistic and simply himself. He may not have had a diagnosis, but it was extremely evident, despite the school constantly finding excuses.

He came home to us while his mum completed her nursing training. He tried again and wanted to move to a third school. The same pattern repeated. His distress grew. Attendance collapsed. His mental health suffered. EBSA (Emotionally Based School Avoidance) became impossible to ignore. We raised concerns. We were dismissed. We filed a complaint. The school responded defensively. A legal letter was sent to intimidate us. The Trust stepped in. It still hasn’t been resolved. James is still treated as the problem, despite significant proof.

James has ADHD and is autistic. James is not naughty.  Not in that sense. He never was. He was a child stuck in a system that didn’t meet his needs or understand him.

This diagnosis explains everything. It explains the speech issues, sensory overwhelm, emotional outbursts, burnout, school refusal, gender expression, need for structure, the collapse in unsafe environments, his concentrated belief in set, mutual, unbreakable boundaries and the way he communicates by releasing large info dumps, spiralling and looping through conversations, not regulating volume, processing things slowly, overwhelming himself and others, and struggling to break the hyper focus of what he solely wants to say.

James has not changed. He is still the same expressive, sensitive, creative, funny, stubborn and brilliant teenager he has always been. The difference is that we finally understand him, have the right words to help him, and a framework available that honours him rather than punishing his core self.

Many might find all these conditions hard to get their head around. I feel happy. We have the diagnosis we wanted, the validation we needed and a plan going forward to best support our son. We can finally get him the correct help and look at how to support him in a way that works. It is still a journey ahead, but it is a start.