Hello, and thank you for taking the time to read this.

This is a deeply personal and frankly uncomfortable thing to share, but I’ve reached a point where I need to ask for help.

Over the last five years — and really, over my whole life — I’ve been severely let down by the NHS. In 2023, after years of being dismissed, misdiagnosed, or ignored, I paid privately for EMDR therapy to work through long-standing difficulties I won’t go into here. That support was essential, but it came at a cost of £6,100 — money I didn’t really have.

More recently, I’ve sought private assessments for ADHD and autism, and I’ve now received a diagnosis for both. To most people, I probably come across as capable, sociable, and outgoing — but behind the scenes, the reality is very different. I often struggle to do basic tasks like cooking or cleaning, have difficulty maintaining work and relationships, and live with severe auditory sensitivity.

I often take trips for quiet and focus — moments that help me reset and manage the challenges I face, even if I might seem outgoing or capable on the surface.

Admitting this diagnosis publicly — even to friends and family — is something I’ve found really difficult. So many people only ever see the functioning version of me, and I worry about being met with comments like “but you don’t seem autistic.” In truth, many of those closest to me weren’t surprised at all by the outcome — and had gently encouraged me to seek answers for years.

The NHS in Coventry and Warwickshire has now stopped accepting referrals for adult autism and ADHD assessments for anyone over 25 — which means if I want treatment, I have no option but to continue privately.

So far, I’ve paid £1,100 for the diagnostic process, but I now need an additional £1,500 minimum, depending on how many follow-ups are needed to find the right dosage, to go through titration with a psychiatrist. This is the step that will allow me to access medication — something I hope will significantly improve my ability to function and reduce my reliance on family and friends for day-to-day support. Even after titration, there is a chance the NHS may refuse to take on shared care, which would leave me responsible for paying up to £160 a month for my prescriptions and medication.

To add to the pressure, I’ve recently lost one of my main freelance contracts — which was the income I was relying on to stay self-sufficient after finally moving out of my parents’ home (at the age of 37).

So, with a lot of discomfort and vulnerability, I’m asking for help. If you're able to contribute anything towards the cost of my treatment, it would mean the world to me — not just financially, but in helping me build a life I can actually manage.

If you don’t feel comfortable contributing financially but still want to support me, helping to grow my business, Hattee Media, by referring others would mean a lot. Anyone you refer to me from this fundraiser will receive a discounted evening event photography rate of £250.

I want to say that I feel awful asking for help, especially knowing that we all pay taxes and deserve support from the NHS. It’s frustrating and heartbreaking that the system isn’t providing what’s needed, and I don’t take this request lightly. But after exhausting all other options, this feels like my only way forward.

Thank you for reading, sharing, or donating. And thank you for seeing me behind the mask I’ve had to wear for so long.

*The photos include my best friend Andy, who food preps all my meals so that all I have to do is microwave them. He constantly proofreads things for me and talks through the social interactions from my day, helping me understand and process them.

My parents — my mum, who cooks and cleans far beyond what any 38-year-old should rely on, yet does so without hesitation or frustration. And my dad, who reads and explains information to me when I don’t have the capacity, and patiently helps me follow through with step-by-step instructions.

And my sister, who always has my back, and supports me without question, no matter what.

An eternal thank you to these humans — without whom, I genuinely wouldn’t have made it this far.