Embracing Sustainable Neurodivergent Living: Our Origin Story

When you're a late-diagnosed Autistic and/or ADHD adult, you are likely no stranger to burnout. In fact, I'm guessing it's BECAUSE of burnout that you even started exploring diagnosis (self and/or professional) in the first place. At least we can thank burnout for something 🤷🏻‍♀️?

Well, it may or may not surprise you to know that even mental health professionals can fall into Autistic burnout. Maybe it doesn't surprise you because likely, many of us are hyper-empathetic to begin with. Perhaps you're thinking to yourself, "But I'm sure you talk to people about burnout recovery and prevention all the time. Shouldn't it be easier for you since you already know this stuff?"

If you're thinking the latter, well... on one hand, yes, knowing this stuff is helpful; however, that does not make us immune to overcommitting and overdoing it. We are, in fact, human, after all. (You're welcome for encouraging the side quest of listening to the song "Human" by Rag'n'Bone Man.)

And I'm no exception. What's funny is that since hitting what I now know was Autistic burnout in 2018, my life has drastically changed. I went from working full-time as a school social worker, teaching yoga, and having a full social life, which included taking improv classes at HUGE Theater (R.I.P.). At this point in my life, my body made me listen to it, because it's pretty hard not to when you start having daily migraine attacks that are severe, along with other chronic illness flares.

Over the years, I've slowly reduced my workload and adapted my life to meet my bodymind's needs. It's not been easy work, especially as someone with LOTS of fire placements in my birth chart (Leo Sun and Sagittarius Moon, to name a few).

And I thought I was there—in a place of balance and sustainable living.

That is, until I was hit with recurring chronic illness flares within the last few months: POTS, migraines, and ME/CFS.

One bad POTS flare had me non-functional for pretty much a whole week—the worst flare I've ever had. Throw an infection on top of that, and it made things much worse.

The following week, as I tried returning to work, I experienced what is essentially a pinched nerve in my back and was forced to slow down and do the bare minimum.

The week after that, as I returned to more of a usual workload, I was feeling stressed, and I had a moment of clarity. Call it a download, a message from my higher self, or the Universe. It was the thought, "I don't have to keep doing this. I can decide to reduce my workload. I could open my own practice." I felt scared yet pretty clear that, at the very least, I needed to reduce my workload because how I was living wasn't sustainable and was not the quality of life I wanted for myself.

I realized that I was in perpetual boom-bust cycles and wasn't pacing myself. I realized that I was in Autistic burnout.

Reflecting on conversations with loved ones about how capitalism functions when we are cut off from our bodyminds, I understood that if we're embodied, then we will, as much as we can while still living under capitalism, reduce or stop hurting ourselves to fuel the machine.

I was also reflecting on conversations with other ME/CFS warriors who caution those of us with mild to moderate symptoms to pace ourselves because once you're in moderate to severe, it's hard to get back to mid-moderate.

As someone who's only recently realized they're a PDAer, I've come to understand my neurotype better and realized that, in addition to helping my neurodivergent, chronically ill bodymind by reducing demands, I'd be helping my PDA self.

So, I slowly started taking steps to reduce my workload and began exploring what opening a private practice would entail. I realized that if I want to be a version of myself that is sustainable, going the route of private practice would allow me more freedom and enable me to work more sustainably while still working toward financial goals.

So here I am, typing out my first blog post for my practice, filled with excitement, fear, and pride. And here you are, reading this.

My hope is to inspire you, dear readers, to examine the ways in which you are living your life. To consider how sustainable your life is, especially if you're neurodivergent and/or chronically ill. And to begin to reduce your workload and craft your life to be sustainable and life-giving. Because your needs matter, your ease matters, and a nervous system that isn't on fire all the time is something you deserve, too.

If you relate and feel called to share, I'd love to know what your "Aha! I'm in burnout" moments were and what sustainable changes you've made in your life.

Until next time,

Alex.