My ADHD Medication Sent Me into a Depressive Spiral

Learning to trust my gut over an unhelpful psychiatrist

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I was ready to turn tail a mere few minutes in, flipping through questionnaires for one disorder after the other in the psychiatrist’s waiting room. More than anything, I’m worried about getting slapped with a minimally considered diagnosis.

The accounts I’ve read of autistic women seeking help only to get an all-too-casual, ill-informed diagnosis chill me to the bone. For some, it’s life-saving understanding; for others, it’s the beginning of a traumatic struggle. Then, finally, someone sees through the misdiagnosis and takes their time, offering a thoughtful reevaluation.

Except where does being trans leave me? Will I be disqualified from mistreatment as an autistic woman because my doctor will see me as a man playing cosplay, will he treat me like a freak, or will he treat me like anybody else? My hand shakes as I check the boxes, one wrong interpretation — a sharpened guillotine above my head.

I dislike the contextless, cold nature of checkboxes, questions, and scales. Do I definitely agree, only somewhat agree, am I neutral, do I somewhat disagree, or do I definitely disagree? Could we maybe start with defining where the line sits between definitely and somewhat, and if I agree with…