Day 29 - Autism, Sensory Overload, and Learning to Accept My Limits
I’ve been reflecting on my expectations of myself: how I want to act perfectly under all circumstances and inevitably fail. Humans… I hate being confronted with my own limitations.
Since those limitations are not about to disappear, I think it may be more useful to learn to accept them instead. Yes, I will always get overwhelmed in bright and noisy environments, but I can use earplugs and sunglasses to soften the impact. Yes, it is normal for me to come home and immediately need to lie down, preferably in a dark room.
Having grown up in the early 2000s, trusting my body still feels unfamiliar. I learned to ignore and override it—just keep the poker face even when I was floating outside my body or experiencing a mild panic response.
I love being neurodivergent: the empathy, the love for art, the pattern recognition. But damn… it is an intense way to experience life.
That reminds me of a book I’m currently reading: But You Don’t Look Autistic At All by Bianca Toeps. She mentions something called the intense world theory by Henry and Kamila Markram. The idea is that much autism research is conducted from a neurotypical perspective. As a result, the focus often becomes “fixing” behaviours that differ from the majority, rather than supporting the autistic person’s actual experience. Our main problem is not missing eye contact it is the intensity of our perception.
So what would care look like if we actually trusted autistic people?
Telling someone like me that I’m “just overthinking” when I’m afraid of a loud restaurant is like telling someone to stop noticing the cold in winter. You don’t remove the problem—you just leave them without a coat. Frustrated, overwhelmed, and still cold.
I’m still new to a lot of this information. For most of my life, I didn’t have the language to describe what was happening to me, or the confidence to look for answers. Asking for help is hard, vulnerable, and necessary.
I’m excited to be back in education in my thirties, but it’s also bringing back struggles I had in my teens. Again, I’m confronted with needing to solve problems that others don’t seem to have. Like: where can I find a safe, dark space on campus? What happens if I become so overstimulated that I lose my ability to communicate or make eye contact?
I want to keep exploring these questions. I want this blog to also be a place where we can grow.
The book I mentioned earlier feels like that too—it helps me feel less like an imposter and more like part of a community. We are only alone if we believe we are, if we stay unaware and isolated from one another.
I hope you are well, wherever you are.
Celine
