Lately, I’ve been dealing with what I believe to be autistic burnout. Simple tasks feel like insurmountable activities. Something as simple as putting on socks or brushing my teeth feels like a full gym workout. Some days I struggle walking without falling over. I feel disoriented, exhausted, and unmotivated. On my worst days, I lose the ability to speak, having to resort to hand signals and gestures to communicate with my partner. It feels like I’m walking through a fog so dense I can’t see or feel anything around me. There’s a greatly increased sensory sensitivity to lights and sounds. This is what makes my burnout unique from most. I’ve dealt with sensory overload my entire life and although stressful, it was still somewhat bearable. The sounds of the microwave, loud talking, alarm clocks, car horns, diesel engines are more jarring than usual. Bright lights send me into a panic like roaches when you turn the kitchen switch on. All I want to do in those moments is find the darkest and quietest room in the house to relieve my stress. These struggles make working a job feel impossible. I haven’t worked consistently in months, which puts a financial strain on my partner. I don’t have the energy to even help with chores or cooking. I lack the mental capacity right now to respond to text messages or answer phone calls.
I know it’s all neurological, but I can’t help feeling like I’m letting everyone down. I don’t have the capacity to love my family, friends, and partner the way they need me to. There is a great deal of shame in that alone. Unpaid bills are piling up the longer I remain in this altered mental state, which is exacerbating my burnout. It’s like having asthma while being chased by a rabid dog. I’m short of breath but there’s no time to stop. There’s no time to rest. There’s no time to process.
Coming up with a strategy to escape my fate is more difficult under these conditions. My mind is in constant rumination as anxiety consumes me. My senses are overwhelmed, and my body is shutting down, but I’m required to keep running to survive. I’m not great at verbally articulating myself, so nobody understands what I’m experiencing. I’m in a space of discomfort, loneliness, and facing the unknown.
But I’m in the process of getting official ASD and ADHD diagnoses along with counseling in the coming weeks. This gives me a glimmer of hope that I’ll finally know with certainty the cause of my distress, and I cannot wait.
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