How the raads-r Quietly Reframed My Late Autism Diagnosis

I stumbled onto the raads-r a few years ago after yet another late-night rabbit hole of “Why does my brain work like this?” I was in my early 30s, decent job, stable life, but constantly exhausted from masking in social situations and endlessly overthinking interactions that other people seemed to skate through.

I’d seen people mention raads-r in forums, usually with a mix of skepticism and relief. One Sunday morning, coffee in hand and zero expectations, I decided to take it. I treated it like a curiosity, not a diagnosis—more like holding up a mirror and asking, “Does this reflection feel familiar at all?”

Answering the questions was strangely emotional. Instead of “What’s wrong with me?” the framing was more, “Has it always been like this?” When the result came back, it wasn’t a shock so much as a quiet click. The numbers themselves weren’t magic, but they nudged me to stop gaslighting my own experience.

After that, I took screenshots, saved my raads-r scores, and brought them to a professional. Was the clinician relying solely on this tool? Absolutely not—and they shouldn’t. But it gave us a focused starting point. It turned a vague, decades-long hunch into something we could actually discuss.

What I appreciate about the raads-r now is that it’s a low-friction way to start a conversation with yourself. It won’t give you The Answer, and it’s not a replacement for a proper assessment, but it can help you notice patterns you’ve been too busy surviving to see.

If you’re in that “Am I overthinking this?” phase, taking the raads-r once, slowly and honestly, might be worth your time. Close the tabs, mute the noise, and just check in with your own history. For me, that simple step was the first time I stopped forcing myself to be “normal” and started getting curious about who I actually am.