When I was little, my mum would laugh about how often she’d find me sitting in the wardrobe. She’d call out “Oh, you’re in your wardrobe again!” and walk away smiling.

It does sound funny now - a child choosing to curl up in a dark, carpeted cupboard instead of playing outside. But for me, it wasn’t a joke or a quirk. It was my retreat. A space that was warm, quiet, and soft. A place where nobody demanded eye contact or conversation.

Inside, I could hear my own thoughts. I could line things up, organise, collect, breathe. The smell of the clothes, the dim light, the predictable quiet - all of it helped my body settle.

As an adult, I can see now that the wardrobe gave me something the wider world didn’t: sensory safety and emotional regulation. It was where I could simply be.

Like many late-identified autistic and ADHD adults, I grew up learning to survive by masking - by adapting myself to fit other people’s expectations. I spent years thinking I was just shy, oversensitive or dramatic. I wasn’t. I was overwhelmed.

That childhood wardrobe wasn’t weird. It was wisdom. It was my nervous system asking for peace in the only way it knew how.

These days, I still need “wardrobe time” - just in grown-up form. A quiet room. Headphones. A long walk. An organised spreadsheet.

So if you’ve ever wondered why you crave solitude, or why you find comfort in small, enclosed spaces - maybe it’s not about avoidance or oddness. Maybe it’s your brain’s way of finding balance.

And that’s okay.

If this story resonates with you, you might enjoy my guided journal See Your Story - designed to help late-identified and self-identified autistic adults understand their past through a neurodivergent lens.