The Emotional Journey of Transition: Anxiety, Self-Doubt, and Self-Acceptance

Dr Miriam Mavia-Zając
Mar 31
4 min read

The Silent Shift: What No One Tells You About Neurodivergent Adulthood

It’s not the bills.

It’s not the laundry.

It’s not the bins.

For neurodivergent young adults, the hardest part of growing up isn’t the logistical chaos, it’s the emotional recalibration.

It’s the invisible labour of untangling who you are from who you’ve had to be. It’s standing at the edge of freedom with no map, no compass, and no sense of whether it’s finally safe to stop performing. And that’s where the real work begins.

When Adulthood Arrives but the Anchor’s Still Missing

For many autistic and ADHD young adults, the transition into adulthood isn’t just practical, it’s psychological. The external scaffolding of childhood, routines, predictability, parental advocacy, starts to fall away. In its place: noise, ambiguity, and expectations that assume you're ready to go it alone.

But inside, there’s a backlog. A tangled web of confusion, emotional residue, and survival patterns that no one ever named.

Anxiety Isn’t a Side-Effect. It’s the First Language.

“I don’t know why I’m anxious, nothing’s even happening.”

I hear this constantly. And it’s not a failure of logic, it’s a reflection of a nervous system wired for survival.

In many neurodivergent minds, nothing can feel like everything. Silence isn’t peace. Stillness isn’t safety. The signal is jammed.

Behind the scenes:

A limbic system trained to overreact—because it had to.
A prefrontal cortex still catching up—maturing more slowly than expectations allow.
A lifetime of unmet needs and emotional mismatches.

Hitting a wall doesn’t mean something’s wrong. It means you’re finally out of survival mode and what’s left is everything you never had space to process.

When the GPS Is Skewed and the Labels Are Missing

Emotions are supposed to help us navigate. But for many ND individuals, the GPS is faulty.

You feel something but can’t name it. You freeze during conflict then unravel hours later. You want to speak but the words arrive long after the moment passes.

This isn’t drama. It isn’t dysfunction. It’s what happens when your system has never been taught to trust itself.

Self-Doubt Has a History—Not a Character Flaw

This isn’t “low self-esteem.” It’s learned disorientation.

It’s what happens when you’ve spent years being misunderstood, overextended, or told you were “fine” while barely holding it together.

And then suddenly, you’re 18. Or 25. And everyone expects you to be clear, consistent, independent.

But how do you locate yourself when you’ve spent most of your adolescence holding your breath?

That dissonance, the gap between how “together” you look and how unmoored you feel is where self-doubt lives.

Unmasking Isn’t a Glow-Up. It’s a Messy Kind of Magic.

Unmasking is not a sleek transformation. It’s not a social media moment.

It’s awkward. Uncomfortable. Sometimes isolating. It’s asking yourself what you need for the first time and realising you don’t yet know.

Often, it’s subtle:

Saying “I’m not sure” instead of pretending to understand
Choosing rest while urgency pulses in your bones
Letting yourself stim in public
Saying no and not explaining

Unmasking removes a shield. And while it may offer authenticity, it doesn’t always offer safety right away. There’s often a gap between who you were pretending to be and who you’re becoming and that in-between space can feel terrifying.

Self-Acceptance Isn’t a Moment. It’s a Muscle.

Forget the fairytale transformation. Self-acceptance is not a single “aha” it’s hundreds of micro-movements:

Speaking your needs without apology
Choosing self-respect over invisibility
Feeling the difference between being regulated and being numb
Releasing the need for approval you never actually needed

This isn’t fluff. This is neuroplasticity, your brain re-patterning itself toward honesty, alignment, and internal trust.

Each small act of alignment becomes part of a new architecture.

So, What Do We Do With All This?

We stop rushing. We stop pathologising. We name the emotional labour for what it is: real, valid, and necessary.

Instead, we:

Treat transitions as emotional recalibrations, not just logistical challenges
Build scaffolding that honours difference not erases it
Make space for anger, grief, and confusion alongside pride and clarity
Practise appropriate authenticity: being real and safe, in our own time

Final Word

The neurodivergent path into adulthood is rarely linear. It spirals. You revisit old truths, meet new layers of self, and re-learn what it means to belong to your own life.

This isn’t regression. It’s becoming.

And becoming is messy. But it’s yours. Especially when you’ve fought this hard just to begin.

For the Curious Mind: What’s Happening in the Brain?

Prefrontal Cortex Development Lags Behind Expectations.
Still maturing into the mid-20s, this area governs planning, regulation, and impulse control. For ADHD brains, this development can follow a non-linear path. What looks like irresponsibility is often developmental timing not personal failure.
The Limbic System Is on High Alert.
Increased amygdala activity makes novelty, unpredictability, and transition feel threatening. Anxiety isn’t optional it’s the default.
Interoceptive Challenges and Alexithymia Blur Emotional Signals
Difficulty identifying internal states means feeling deeply, but without labels. This leads to overwhelm, shutdowns, and post-event processing that feels “too late.”
Chronic Masking Reshapes the Self.
Long-term masking distorts identity development and stresses the nervous system. It’s not just tiring, it erodes memory, emotional access, and a sense of safety.
Neuroplasticity Is the Repair Path
Each boundary, each moment of rest, each honest decision lays new neural groundwork. Over time, the system becomes more regulated, responsive, and self-led.