How fame led Aimee Lou Wood to a life-changing diagnosis

For many, fame is the destination. For Aimee Lou Wood, it was the turning point.

Catapulted into the spotlight with her breakout role in Netflix’s Sex Education, and more recently earning praise for her nuanced performance in Season 3 of The White Lotus, Wood's ascent in the entertainment world has been steady, visible, and — as she now reveals — quietly overwhelming.

In a recent interview with The Sunday Times’ Culture Magazine, the British actor shared a deeply personal revelation: she was diagnosed with ADHD and autistic traits several years ago, following her sudden rise to stardom.

It’s a moment of vulnerability and clarity that offers a rare window into the hidden cost of fame — and the long journey to understanding one’s own neurodivergent mind.

“I got diagnosed a few years ago with ADHD with autistic traits,” Wood said. “But then it's been advised that I should go for an autism assessment. They think that maybe it's autism that's leading the charge, and the ADHD is almost a by-product of the masking.”

It’s a telling insight.

Masking — the practice of consciously or unconsciously suppressing neurodivergent traits to appear more “typical” — is especially common among women and femmes on the spectrum. For many, it becomes a survival strategy that delays diagnosis and amplifies mental health challenges.

For Wood, fame didn’t just accelerate her career — it shattered the mask she had so carefully constructed.

While millions adored her onscreen openness as Aimee Gibbs in Sex Education, and rooted for her tender, grounded portrayal of Chelsea in The White Lotus, Wood herself was navigating something far more turbulent behind the scenes.

She describes a tendency to avoid overstimulating social events — the afterparties, premieres, or even casual gatherings — not out of aloofness, but because they left her emotionally overloaded.

This kind of emotional regulation — or the struggle with it — is a hallmark of both ADHD and autism, especially in people who have gone undiagnosed through childhood.

For late-diagnosed women, it often gets mistaken for social anxiety or burnout, until a more holistic understanding of neurodivergence enters the picture.

Fame, femininity, and the fight to feel safe in your body

Wood also reflected on how sudden visibility reshaped her relationship with her body and identity. After a bold, now-iconic first scene in Sex Education — one that involved nudity and intimacy — the actress began to retreat from her own femininity.

It’s an experience many neurodivergent people — particularly women — will recognize: the instinct to shrink, blend in, avoid unwanted attention, or regulate how others perceive them.

For someone in the public eye, those impulses are only magnified.

Chelsea: A character who let her be fully herself

Oddly enough, it was in The White Lotus, a show brimming with sharp satire and larger-than-life personalities, that Wood found her safest creative space.

Her character Chelsea, the down-to-earth partner of Walton Goggins’ Rick, emerged as a fan favorite not because she commanded attention, but because she didn’t try to.

In a resort full of posturing, Chelsea was refreshingly real — awkward, nerdy, unpolished — and that, Wood says, allowed her to drop the act.

Director Mike White, she says, embraced her rawness. “Don’t be afraid to be unlike everyone else,” he told her. “Unleash the freak.”

When diagnosis brings relief, not restriction

While Wood’s diagnosis is still evolving — with a full autism assessment pending — she’s already come to understand herself more clearly. The language, the framing, the self-compassion that a diagnosis can bring has given her a way to explain experiences that were previously shrouded in shame or confusion.

It’s also a powerful reminder of how many late-diagnosed neurodivergent people — especially those assigned female at birth — go unnoticed until stress, visibility, or sudden life changes bring things to the surface.

Wood’s honesty joins a growing wave of public figures, from actors to authors, who are reshaping how we see ADHD and autism — not as fixed checklists of symptoms, but as diverse, nuanced ways of experiencing the world.

In an industry where appearances are curated and difference is often hidden, her story is a quiet rebellion. It’s a reminder that behind the glitz, many stars are still figuring themselves out — and that can be the most powerful performance of all.