I’ve been exhausted for months. The problem with burnout and being autistic, is that it results in a special kind of burnout – autistic burnout. What’s the difference? Here’s an example:

I adore small children. I am all for them acting in ridiculous ways without regard for others. Live it up! Well… I was at a cafe the other day, a young girl came in. Through the window, she could see a flock of geese, and she was jazzed about it. She starts screaming with glee. And while I would normally be quite amused, I instead found myself resisting the urgent to stand up and scream with all my might, “shut the fuck up!!!” While covering my ears and rocking back and forth. Because autistic burnout, comes with added barriers: increased sensory sensitivity, decrease in skills, including executive functioning and chronic exhaustion. I did not actually scream at the child. I recognized that my response was a result of burnout and was able to remind myself that while I was having a “fight” stress response, I was actually safe and it would pass.

Still, I needed a break, so with about a week’s notice , I took a week off from work. I am incredibly fortunate that a.) I have a compassionate, capable, and supportive spouse, and b.) her parents have a vacation home in my very favorite place on planet Earth.

Ok, fantastic. I’ll spend a week hiking and reflecting and healing. Perfect.

Well, despite my efforts to cultivate revelation, I didn’t find the golden ticket that’s going to make it all better. But I am in no way coming away empty-handed. Here are the lessons and reminders this time away has gifted me.

1. Embracing new things: I am afraid of drawing attention to myself in new situations. I think this stems from years of bullying and generally being shamed for not meeting social norms. I rely on other people who have experience with a given situation to be able to mimic them and meet social norms. So, alone, its really hard for me to do new things but this week I had a lot of firsts and am really proud of my ability to manage my anxiety and risk not knowing to try new things. The main shift here was accepting that it’s ok to be nervous instead of viewing nervous as an invalid response that doesn’t deserve recognition and therefore can’t be mitigated.

2. Stop saying yes without regard for my own wellbeing: “If the world finds you can fiddle, then fiddle you must, for all your days.” – Edgar Lee Masters, poem: Fiddler Jones. The moment I heard this quote, during my high school years, I clung to it. There are so many things that I love about it. It reminds me that we exist for each other and we are all called to bring our skills to the table, for everyone’s benefit. But this sentiment has gotten twisted in my mind over time, such that if I can do it, I do. And that is exhausting. It interferes with others’ ability to bring their skills to the table. On my first full day here, I headed out on a new hike. It was gorgeous AND had a surprise scramble up the mountainside at the end. I made it about halfway, was exhausted, so I stopped for a very leisurely lunch, delaying the inevitable. I watched as others scramble up the remaining 300 feet of loose rock and vertical intensity. I thought, “I bet the view is amazing…I have 6 days of hiking ahead of me…I am tired…I…don’t think I should go farther.” I then watched a seemingly very athletic woman essentially ski down the mountainside because she lost her footing (she was fine, just scary). And I realized I’m not doing that. I probably could. But I’m not going to. So, just because I can do something doesn’t mean I must or even that I should. In making that decision, I must consider the impact on my wellbeing.

3. Stop for gas before the light comes on: I love the feeling of being in a mental flow. I become a productivity king. I’m just cranking out one thing after the next. But my neurodivergence blocks my view of that helpful little “E” light that comes on as the gas tank empties and by the time I feel “kinda tired” I’ve actually been stalled out on the highway for several hours. Then I have to wait around until I get fuel. But then I don’t recognize that I only got enough to get to the next town. So again, I go hard. I stall out. And repeat and repeat and repeat. I have to stop running out of gas. Because I can’t see that helpful “E” light, I’m going to have to track my energy output and space things out more. And that is extremely annoying. This revelation makes me feel inferior. I can’t believe I have to do this. I’m not entirely sure that I can. But I know for certain I cannot not do it. On further reflection, I think this pattern dates back to when I was finally diagnosed and medicated for ADHD. My brain worked so much better on meds, and I could go so hard. It felt so good. But I never learned to ration this energy. I’m driving myself into the ground.

4. Dissonance is not inherently urgent: I generally view conflict as a positive and transformative thing. I think it can bring about fabulous dialog and evolved thinking. That being said, when the conflict becomes relational and I don’t understand the premise, it causes dissonance for me that makes it really difficult to regulate emotionally. Therefore, I have always treated it as the most urgent thing. It is difficult for me to focus on anything other than trying to resolve the conflict. I am generally good at explaning things. This has led me to believe that if something is misunderstood, more explaning is needed. But, it turns out that if the other party doesn’t want to resolve the conflict, continuing to give the conflict energy is simply destructive. Sometimes, dissonance can not be resolved. I think I have to accept that there is nothing I can do. It is what it is.

5. Even when I’m overwhelmed, I need to take care of myself and my family. I’ve been overwhelmed for months. I just keep hunkering down and withdrawing. But not taking care when I’m overwhelmed is like not working out when I don’t have energy. It’s ok every once in a while, but eventually, it compounds the problem.