Better Late Than Never: From High-Masking to Empowered Autistic Entrepreneur
Parenting, Partnering, and Building a Neurodivergent-Inclusive Business
Relief and frustration can be held in the same hand.
Relief, because I finally had a new perspective—a frame that helped explain patterns and challenges I had long observed as a parent of an undiagnosed autistic adult. Frustration, because the system meant to support us didn’t. We were sent down one rabbit hole labeled allergies and never resurfaced to explore what now seems like a missing link. No one invited us to consider neurodivergence. There was no map, no prompt, no "have you ever considered..." from the medical professionals we turned to over the years. Just a steady stream of appointments, elimination diets, and self-blame.
She was a master masker — and I had no idea.
None.
I just saw someone who would suddenly “hit a wall,” and I kept wondering what I could do differently. Was I missing something as a parent? Was she tired, anxious, overcommitted? There were moments of what I now understand were autistic meltdowns, but at the time, I didn’t have the language as a neurotypical parent navigating autism without a diagnosis.
And then I did.
And in that knowing, there was peace. Peace in finally having a name. Peace in realizing that the challenge wasn’t in who she was, but in how the world misunderstood her—and how I, despite my love, had also misunderstood.
The Shift: From Parenting to Partnering
Her diagnosis didn’t come in childhood. It came at 35. And I’ll say it—at 63, that’s not the parenting chapter you expect to be revisiting. She was building and growing businesses. I was trying to figure out how to wind down. That alone brought friction—two lives moving in different directions, with different needs, speeds, and energy.
But add a not-yet-named autism diagnosis to that mix? Yikes. That’s a crash course no one offered a manual for.
I could see solutions that might help her, but I didn’t know how to present them in a way that was supportive—not intrusive. I wanted to help, and she wanted space. We’d crash and burn in Zoom meetings, tripping over misunderstandings neither of us knew how to name yet.
And then we had a name: autism.
With that came learning. Adjustments. Grace. I began to understand what she needed, and what I could shift. Not just in our workflow, but in how I listened, how I responded, and how I showed up.
And now? Now there’s something beautiful unfolding.
She’s teaching me how to be a better coach. A better collaborator. A better human.
Redesigning How We Work
It wasn’t just a mindset shift. It was also a systems shift.
Once I had language for her neurodivergence, I could make sense of what wasn’t working — not because she was “difficult,” but because our ways of working weren’t aligned. We didn’t need to overhaul everything. What we needed were refinements.
Clearer expectations before meetings. Fewer back-to-back Zoom calls. No surprise brainstorming sessions. And yes — I started reading the entire email before responding (a lifelong habit that I didn’t realize might be a barrier until she gently pointed it out).
It turns out that designing systems to support a neurodivergent partner… makes things better for everyone — especially when we embrace neurodivergent-friendly business systems. Meetings are more focused. Communication is more respectful. Prep is intentional, not overwhelming. And there’s room for both of us to show up in ways that feel good.
A Note for Fellow Partners (in Business or Life with a Neurodivergent Loved One)
Whether you're partnering in business or in your household or life, here's my advice: assume good intent, clarify everything, and never underestimate the power of snacks and scheduled alone time.
Set expectations early, avoid mid-task pivots unless absolutely necessary, and remember: silence doesn't mean disinterest — it might just mean processing.
Also — if you're learning to read the whole email before replying, welcome to the club. We meet virtually, but only after proper notice and with a clear agenda.
