Let’s talk about autistic burnout, or more specifically, MY Autistic Burnout . And no, I’m not talking about just having a bit of a busy week, needing an early night or fancying a day under a blanket with Netflix (although, honestly, that sounds quite lovely!). I’m talking about the proper, deep-down exhaustion that makes even the simplest things feel like climbing Mount Everest in Louboutins.
For a long time, I saw burnout as something I desperately needed to avoid. Something I should be able to manage better if I “just tried harder”, planned better, had more self awareness or somehow became a more organised, less exhausted version of myself.
But since my own neuroacceptance journey I’ve started to look at things a little differently. I’ve come to realise that, for me, autistic burnout is inevitable. And you know what? I’ve actually learned to be OK with that.
Now, before anyone thinks I’ve given up on looking after myself, or have folded up in a heap of despair, that’s not what I mean at all! It’s more about me accepting MY reality rather than constantly fighting against it. Me endlessly trying to prevent my burnout from happening was far harder for me than recovering from it when it happens ….who knew?!
So, what actually is autistic burnout?
Autistic burnout isn’t simply being tired. It’s a state of intense physical, mental and emotional exhaustion that can happen when the demands of everyday life consistently outweigh the energy and capacity available to manage them.
It can be caused by loads of things like prolonged masking, sensory overload, social demands, navigating a world that isn’t always designed with autistic people in mind, constantly adapting to changes and trying to meet expectations that can feel completely unrealistic.
It’s the endless mental effort of processing conversations, filtering out background noise, managing unexpected changes, making decisions, remembering everything and trying to appear as though you’re absolutely fine while internally your brain is screaming for everyone to PLEASE JUST STOP MAKING NOISE!!!!
And the really weird thing is that for me it often builds gradually and unnoticeably . I can be managing really well one minute and then suddenly find myself struggling with things that wouldn’t normally bother me.
For example, Executive functioning can become less reliable, sensory sensitivities can increase, communication can feel exhausting and even everyday tasks can seem completely overwhelming. AND NO, It’s not laziness, a lack of resilience or simply needing to pull yourself together. It’s burnout, and it can have a huge impact on your ability to function.
So, here’s where things get a little personal.
I’m neurodivergent, but I’m also a parent carer to disabled children. And that brings an additional layer of demands that can make managing my own capacity particularly tricky.
Parenting is demanding at the best of times, but being a parent carer often means appointments, paperwork, therapies, advocating, planning, problem-solving, managing additional needs and constantly thinking several steps ahead. There’s loads of responsibility, a lot of emotional energy and a ridiculous amount lot of things to remember! And unlike some other demands in life, caring responsibilities don’t come with the option to take a break.
My children’s needs don’t disappear because I’ve had a hard week. They don’t politely wait until I’ve recovered from burnout before needing support. There are days when things simply have to be done, regardless of how much energy I have left. And I want to say this because I think it’s super important: I absolutely adore my children. Loving them and finding the demands of caring exhausting can both be true at the same time. One doesn’t cancel out the other. Some months are HARD!
When you combine the demands of being an autistic person with the responsibilities of being a parent carer, it’s not all that surprising that burnout becomes a regular visitor. I could spend my life feeling guilty about that, wondering what I’m doing wrong or constantly trying to find a way to prevent it. Or I can acknowledge that my circumstances make burnout a very real possibility and learn to work with that reality.
I’m choosing the latter!
Spoon theory is brilliant, but it doesn’t quite work for me!
If you’re part of the disability or chronic illness community, you’ll probably have come across spoon theory. It’s an awesome way of explaining limited energy and capacity. The idea is that you start each day with a certain number of spoons, and every activity uses some of them up. Once they’re gone, they’re gone! You then have to replenish the lost spoons by doing things you love, things that bring you joy.
I genuinely think it’s brilliant, and it can be such a helpful way of explaining why everyday activities can take so much energy. But here’s the thing, for me, as a parent carer, I don’t ever get to decide when my spoons run out! My children still need me whether I’ve got ten spoons, two spoons or used all of next weeks cutlery draw!!! Their needs don’t conveniently fit around my energy levels, and most of the time, there simply isn’t an option to stop and recharge. And I suspect plenty of other parent carers will be nodding along at this point!
I think it’s important that we talk about this because advice about managing energy and avoiding burnout can sometimes overlook the reality of caring for someone who depends on you. It’s not as simple as cancelling plans, saying no or taking a day off.
Sometimes you just have to keep going, so for me, learning to accept that burnout is sometimes inevitable has actually made recovery quicker for me.
I’m no longer spending so much energy being cross with myself for being exhausted. I’m learning to recognise what’s happening, accept it and make adjustments wherever I can. Sometimes that means lowering my expectations. Sometimes it means accepting that the housework can wait, replying to messages can wait and some things just aren’t going to happen today and sometimes its acknowledging that I’m having a rubbish day and that’s OK.
Honestly, that feels like progress worth celebrating.
Because being autistic doesn’t mean I’m broken. Being burnt out doesn’t mean I’ve failed. And being a parent carer doesn’t mean I should have to disappear from my own list of priorities.
Burnout sucks, but for me, being afraid of it and feeling like a failure when it happens sucked harder. I just need more spoons 🙂
