Most teenagers want to be as far from the watchful eye of their parents as possible, desperately pushing to grow up and live independently, but I could never relate.
Between the ages of 8 and 16, I was determined to sleep on my parents' bedroom floor every night.
I knew my nighttime routine was not the norm, but it took until I turned 18 to begin understanding why. That was when I was diagnosed with autism. Three years later, at 21, I was further diagnosed with ADHD.
My life looks very different now. At 23, I sleep independently, travel alone when I need to, co-run my own business and spend my days doing work I love. I am committed to learning about myself and growing daily, but to understand how far I have come, I often find myself looking back at where it all began.
Though I have autism and ADHD, being neurodivergent is not something that defines me.
"It's just a factor in my life," I often tell people. "There's nothing wrong with having ADHD or autism, they don't have to be limitations, it's just about how you know yourself and adapt things to your condition to make life as easy as possible."
But that perspective took years to develop, especially because my therapist was convinced I was just anxious, which meant it took years to get a diagnosis.
For most of my childhood, anxiety did dominate my world, but I did not know that other factors were responsible for its grip. When I could not sleep in my own room, I was terrified of being kidnapped, of being unconscious, of being unprotected during the night. The fears became so overwhelming that sleeping on my parents' bedroom floor became the only way I felt safe enough to try to rest. Though, this was a secret I carried for years.
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I found it embarrassing, especially as I got older. I remember telling a friend about it when I was in elementary school and getting a negative reaction instead of comfort. That experience only reinforced my fear of people finding out. After that, I hardly spoke about it at all.
Fortunately, my parents did everything they could to help.
In the early years, my mum would sleep in my room. I had a bunk bed, and she would sleep on the bottom bunk while I slept above her. We made promises that she would not leave during the night because I would wake up if she tried. As I got older, the arrangement changed and I slept on a mattress on my parents' bedroom floor instead.
Looking back now, I cannot imagine how difficult that must have been for them. My mum and dad are two of the most supportive, selfless people I know. The sacrifices they made for me are impossible to repay.
At the time, though, no one was connecting my struggles to autism or ADHD.
My mum suspected I was neurodivergent, but I did not fit the stereotypes some professionals had at the time. Even today, many people do not immediately recognize me as autistic unless they know me well.
Growing up, I attended CBT therapy sessions, particularly around sleep and anxiety. The reality is that they rarely worked because I was not ready to engage honestly. I would tell the therapist what they wanted to hear while knowing full well that I had no intention of trying to sleep alone that night.
I was not being malicious. I was just frightened.
I was also deeply attached to that routine. Looking back, I can now see how both autism and ADHD may have shaped that stubbornness and need for predictability. Changing established patterns felt impossible.
School was equally challenging. I struggled throughout much of my education. At the time, I thought something was wrong with me because the traditional classroom environment never seemed to fit the way my brain worked.
Now, I understand why.
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Even as an adult, my best work does not happen on a fixed schedule. Sometimes my most productive hours arrive late at night; sometimes in the morning. I still struggle with sleep consistency, and I still experience burnout. The difference is that I now understand myself well enough to manage it.
That self-awareness changed everything. In some ways, being diagnosed later in life was difficult. In other ways, I am grateful it forced me to develop resilience and adaptability.
Today, I work in marketing and co-own a business. The independent adult I am today would be almost unrecognizable to the child who could not sleep alone.
That is one reason I now speak openly about neurodivergence on TikTok, under @spencer_ali.
I think awareness has improved dramatically over the past decade, but misconceptions still exist. Too often, people think autism or ADHD fit into a single box, when the reality is that neurodivergence is incredibly diverse.
If there is one thing I have learned, it is that understanding yourself matters just as much as being understood by others.
The child sleeping on a bedroom floor could never imagine running a business, traveling independently or building a life on his own terms. But growth happens when we replace shame with self-acceptance and understanding.
The person you are today does not determine who you will become tomorrow. I am proof.
Spencer Ali is a 23-year-old business owner based in Essex, England.
Newsweek’s reporters and editors used Martyn, our AI assistant, to produce this story. Learn more about Martyn here.
Contact Newsweek editors on this story: Kara Dolman and Paul Donnelley.