I was 33 when I realized I was autistic. Suddenly, the fact that it took me an hour to put socks and shoes on as a kid because the seams of my socks had to be juuuuust right…made so much more sense. The fact that I always felt like an alien around other people made sense. The fact that I could read other peoples’ “vibe” and understand their core when so many others could not, made sense. Realizing I’m autistic changed my life… for the better.
It was none of those things or my severe social anxiety or my muscle-clenched stimming that clued me in though… It was the autistic burnout that accompanied my rambunctious, very noisy second child. Too many things happened at once in my life — my oldest turned three (way harder than two, if you ask me), my youngest is very clingy and loud, and everyone seems to have a meltdown around 5:00. And I mean everyone, myself included, lost it.
One night, it was particularly bad. It was like an out-of-body experience. I was standing in the kitchen after a long day of work, trying to make my brain work enough to process dinner prep, with my wailing baby clinging to my leg and his brother having a meltdown in the corner because dinner wasn’t candy. I was there, but I wasn’t there. My husband walks in and kisses me on the forehead and I LITERALLY recoil. The sensory overload from screaming and being touched all day made his touch physically painful to me. I was burnt out and had nothing left to give. That night it came out in recoil, but sometimes it came out as anger or completely shutting down and not functioning. I needed to retreat and recover. But… I’m a mom, a wife, an employee, a student. I don’t have the luxury to always retreat and recover.
So there I sat, in a state of autistic burnout, waiting for something to leave my plate so I could enjoy more than short spurts of time with my kids. Honestly, the only things that helped were therapy and time. I learned some coping mechanisms to help avoid that boiling over moment, and my kids got older. I am happy to report that 2 and 4, with a few good coping skills, is immensely better than 1 and 3. Now, I am not saying it’s all perfect. I am still working on communicating my sensory and mental needs to my partner in a way that doesn’t sound like I’m just a controlling B-word.
While I do that, I also continue to pour into my cup every chance I get. I am only connecting with people and communities that have meaning and can offer something back to me emotionally. I am taking my time completing the end of my dissertation to protect my mind and sanity. I am doing more self care, asking for more breaks, and stepping away when it feels like too much. And I am reading a lot of books on parenting and adulting while autistic. It is hard. It is so, so hard. And it is important, so I will continue to do it.
Note from the Owner :: When Olivia submitted this post, I immediately reached out to her. I had no idea that she had found out she was autistic only a year before. I am almost 40 and only just discovered that I am as well right before she shared this post. It was the perfect timing for me. If you’re an autistic female, you know that diving into full research mode is just part of who we are. It was no surprise then that her last paragraph mentioning a lot of books she was reading on autism leapt off the screen for me.
I told Olivia I had just found out I was autistic too (probably why we immediately clicked so well from the moment we met) and begged her to share her list of books with me right away. Amazing as she is, she did it right away. Some of the below (Amazon links) are from her list and a couple are ones I’ve found along my own research that I highly recommend. I do suggest that you start with Women and Girls on the Autism Spectrum first if you’re an autistic mom and/or have an autistic daughter (like I am and do) –
