Autistic Burnout, Rock Pools and Other Thoughts
This is going to be a bit of a meandering post, as mine often are. I appreciate that this isn't particularly algorithm friendly but in general, this is how my brain works and I feel a strong resistance, also, to the online sphere of over simplification and bite sized topic niches which are ultimately reductionist and unhelpful.
I have been completely floored in the last while with autistic burnout. This is an experience which is much talked about within the neurodivergent community but probably not well known or understood outside of that. This definition from the UK National Autistic Society explains the basis of it:
'Autistic burnout is a syndrome conceptualised as resulting from chronic life stress and a mismatch of expectations and abilities without adequate supports. It is characterised by pervasive, long-term (typically 3+ months) exhaustion, loss of function, and reduced tolerance to stimulus.'
For me, this is the second episode (or perhaps one long continuation) of burnout in a year. This time, however, I was completely unable to pick myself up without taking time out of work. The early signs, which I unfortunately didn't recognise at the beginning, were increased irritability, decreased ability to cope with sensory stimuli, absolute total exhaustion and constant anxiety.
I reached a point where I was completely unable to function and this manifested in lots of ways. I could barely manage basic hygiene, became incredibly nervous about leaving my house (which felt like the only place that was safe), couldn't manage proper eating habits or any kind of cooking. In the first couple of weeks, I could just about get up and get to the couch, where I would doom scroll or watch mindless tv and inevitably fall asleep for hours. My executive functioning was minimal and every small thing felt like an enormous effort. My ptsd symptoms (like nightmares) returned and I felt completely debilitated. I also felt a massive sense of guilt - that I was letting people down, that I was useless - and lots of other negative thoughts.
As time went on, and the extreme exhaustion dissipated a little, I really wanted to try and help myself and find some way to improve my situation. I did a lot of reading about burnout and one book that I found particularly helpful was Burnout: How to manage your nervous system before it manages you, by Dr. Claire Plumbly. I'm not a big fan of self help books generally, but this one really helped me to understand a little more about what was going on with my nervous system and how I had gotten to the point I was at. It outlines the symptoms of burnout and the different ways in which chronic stress can send our autonomic nervous system into meltdown.
I also, more recently, came across these amazing graphics by The Little Black Duck on Facebook (shared with permission). The first highlights some of the differences between occupational and autistic burnout and the second charts the progress of autistic burnout
I would say that by the time I realised I needed to go to my GP, I was probably at stage 9 on the chart above, where my brain and body just didn't seem to be working properly anymore. I think this chart is a really excellent outline of the experience of burnout and is also a useful indicator of when things are starting to go downhill.
You may be wondering at this point why I mentioned rock pools in the title. They are relevant I promise! A common theme in all my reading was that emerging from burnout, or preventing it in the first place, can be helped by leaning in to things that we enjoy, or find calming. This of course, is only part of the picture - it's also crucial to try and rest, eat well in so far as you are capable, and find support through therapy or via family or friends. One of the big problems of burnout is that when you start to get into that bad cycle, your energy levels are so low that anything outside of work and essential family responsibilities just gets thrown aside. Unfortunately this just exacerbates the problem because life then becomes heavily weighted on the demand side, and the amount of time doing pleasurable things dwindles to nothing, often without you even realising it's happening.
So I made a decision that I had to try and redress that imbalance, taking baby steps at first and meeting a friend or two for coffee. I then spent some days away in Sligo by myself (I was a few weeks into recovery at this point so felt a bit more able) and this really helped hugely in restoring a bit of calm to my nervous system. Some of my happiest memories of childhood are centred around the sea and I was absolutely fascinated with rock pools when I was little, as well as the sound of the waves and the white foam dancing on to the shore. The standout moments of pure calm and bliss in my life are also sea related - floating in a calm sea and feeling that huge expanse of water around me and the wide sky is such an incredible sensory joy.
Being in Sligo brought back some of that joy for me. I had an incredible swim in Rosses point where the water was so calm and the perfect temperature.
I was on my own, so felt no pressure to converse or to hide any part of myself. And I spent nearly a full hour closely examining the rock pools at Dunmoran strand, which is a stunning beach with views of Ben Bulben.
I didn't care how odd I looked, crouching down on the rocks and gazing into the little water worlds. And I realised later that my constant habit of vigilantly checking my behaviour and my speech and how I am, is part of the exhausting effort of masking as an autistic person. So not having any of that pressure allowed me to breathe for a little while. I walked in forests and examined mosses and fungi, took many many photos and allowed myself to do whatever I wanted. Feeling happiness in photography again was huge relief because this has always been one of my ways to relax but I had become so detached and closed off to everything that I didn't even want to take my camera out. I was at a point where I didn't think I would ever be able to feel happiness again. I had also lost my ability to write and that felt particularly hard because writing has been a form of therapy for me for as long as I can remember. But now, clearly, that has returned too and I almost feel like I could write this post for an age - however I will spare the reader that experience :)
The silence and being on my own was such a balm and I feel much better equipped now to try and keep a better balance in my life and importantly, to be aware enough to recognise any future signs of burnout so that I can prevent it from escalating. Realistically, the burnout is not gone, not by a long shot, but I feel like I have a little bit of me back, as well as a little more energy. I've recognised too, that the effort of masking highly has become an impossibility for me and that I need to take my own welfare seriously. Being liked, or approved of, isn't anywhere near enough of a prize to make sacrificing my own well being worthwhile.
And maybe we all need to take a break from expectations of what's normal or not, and ease back on judgement of others. Another really positive experience I had this week was attending two of the events at the Kildare Libraries Eco Lines Festival. This was a climate readers festival and was curated by Kerri ní Dochartaigh. I went to 'Restore, Repair, Remember - on finding the way back' which was a conversation with Eoghan Daltun, Samuel Arnold and Aoife Hammond and Chaired by Kerri. The next event I went to was called 'Head, Heart, Hands: healing through one-anotherness' which was chaired by Nidhi Zak Aria Eipe and this time Kerri was part of the panel, with Jennie Moran and Jesse Gilbert.
Both events moved me enormously, and brought home to me that human connection and trust is important to me, and that moving towards a better world has to entail nourishing those connections with our fellow planetary inhabitants, whether they be human or animal or plant. I had lost so much trust in humans over the past few years, feeling safety only when alone or in nature. The loss of trust was justifiable in so many ways, with so many experiences of being let down or treated badly, as well as being exposed to world horrors like the genocide in Palestine. But being at these events was a healing reminder that there are beautiful good hearted people in the world and that not everyone values appearance over substance.
Some additional information on autistic burnout:
