I was misdiagnosed in Alcoholics Anonymous. They said I was an alcoholic, but in reality, I'm neurodivergent—autistic and ADHD—which is quite different. In this blog, I’m unpacking the full story, from the misdiagnosis to the powerful realization of who I truly am. This is one of the most important things I’ve ever shared.

Society still has a narrow view of autism—like a little white boy bouncing off the walls or someone like Rain Man. It’s as if people don’t know what a spectrum is. Autism isn’t just one color; it’s a galaxy. You can be neon orange and still be on the spectrum even if everyone’s expecting purple.

Autism also looks different in women. We mask. We adapt. We internalize. And in recovery settings like AA, where the pressure to conform is high, we often get misread or overlooked. Neurodivergence goes unseen while everyone chalks up our struggles to alcoholism.

I was told—explicitly—that all my problems had one name: alcoholic. And one solution: the 12 Steps. Therapy wasn’t encouraged. External help was dismissed. Everything, I was told, was alcoholism.

But here’s the thing: alcoholism isn’t even a diagnosis in America. It hasn’t been for decades. The real diagnosis is Alcohol Use Disorder—a condition that ranges from mild to severe. So the term “alcoholic” is a cultural identity more than a clinical truth. That matters. Because what if the drinking was just a symptom?

For me—and so many others I’ve heard from—the real root was trauma, neurodivergence, emotional dysregulation, or lack of coping skills and mental health. Yet we were told it was all alcoholism.

I stayed for a decade. I got a daily reprieve, and it did help for a time. The connection, the structure, the rituals—it all released helpful chemicals: oxytocin, dopamine, serotonin. But once I left, that biochemical reprieve vanished. And I was left with an unmedicated nervous system.

I wasn’t just grieving the community—I was suddenly raw. Dysregulated. Untethered. It’s a mindf*ck to leave. There’s tribal grief, exit trauma, and a fear that you might die or relapse. The after recovery struggle is real.

But what I eventually realized is: I don't have a "fatal progressive disease" that needs a lifetime sentence to an outdated ideology. I was just finally meeting my unmedicated, unmasked self.

I left AA in April 2020. By December of that year, I thought I was ADHD. And then, on the second to last day of the year, my hairdresser in Bali said: “and autistic.”

That one comment cracked my soul wide open. I knew instantly he was right.

Since then, I’ve been deep in the rabbit hole—researching, exploring, reading every perspective I can. I didn’t want to trade one rigid identity (alcoholic) for another. I hold these labels loosely. But the neurodivergent lens has brought more clarity, healing, and empowerment than anything else ever has.

And I’m not alone. So many women have messaged me saying the same thing: “I left AA. I found out I’m autistic or ADHD. It all makes sense now.”

I put together a curated page with all the resources, assessments, and videos that helped me connect the dots. It’s especially for the autistic or ADHD curious and folks in or after recovery.

We deserve better. We deserve clarity. We deserve support that actually fits.

Thanks for reading. Let’s keep the conversation going—and make sure the misdiagnosed and misunderstood versions of ourselves never have to stay stuck again.