I’m still getting to grips with the fact that I experience autistic burnout, what it looks like, and how it works for me.
For over a decade, I was trapped in a cycle of debilitating exhaustion, pain, and brain fog—a mysterious and unidentifiable illness that no one could fully diagnose. Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Fibromyalgia, Hypothyroidism, and a handful of neurological conditions were considered, but nothing truly explained my symptoms.
I was beyond exhausted. My body ached from head to toe, and my shoulders and neck felt like they had been replaced with solid rock, muscles clenched so tightly that every movement was agony. My brain was soupy with fog, making it impossible to think straight. Holding down a job was a daily battle. I felt like a shadow of my former self, like my body had aged 50 years overnight. On my worst days, even climbing the stairs felt like summiting Everest.
Then, I discovered I was autistic and ADHD, and over the following year everything started to click into place.
Once I started recognising and tending to my neurodivergent needs, I realised my symptoms weren’t random. They weren’t caused by an unknown illness. Instead, I was caught in a relentless cycle of autistic burnout.
What is Autistic Burnout?
Autistic burnout isn’t just “being a bit tired.” It’s a state of complete physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion caused by prolonged masking, stress, overstimulation, and the constant effort of navigating a world that isn’t built for us.
The more I paid attention to when my worst episodes hit, the clearer the pattern became. It wasn’t just happening randomly—it followed intense periods of:
- Too much socialising
- Too many demands
- Dealing with stressful life events
- Masking my traits for long stretches of time
Now that I know what my burnout looks like, I can spot the warning signs before it fully takes over.
My Early Signs of Autistic Burnout
For me, burnout doesn’t just suddenly appear—it builds up over time. These are my biggest red flags:
1. Increased Irritability & Sensory Sensitivity
It was half-term last week, and after a few days, my sensory tolerance collapsed. My kids weren’t being particularly loud, but every sound felt like bricks being hurled at my skull. Every little noise—background chatter, clinking cutlery, the hum of the fridge—became unbearable. I was a very grumpy bear.
2. Physical Pain
This was one of the hardest things to recognise. Burnout doesn’t just exhaust me—it physically hurts. My muscles and joints ache, my body feels like it’s fighting off the flu, and even simple movements feel ten times harder than they should.
3. Crushing Fatigue
Yesterday, the fatigue hit me like a freight train for the first time in months, and holy macaroni, it was AWFUL. It wasn’t just feeling a bit tired—it was the kind of exhaustion that makes existing feel like hard work. There was not one ounce of energy in my body, and everything felt impossible.
4. Brain Fog & Executive Dysfunction
I needed to grab a few ingredients from the shop to make lasagne. Just lasagne. But the act of organising my thoughts—figuring out what I needed, where I needed to go, in what order—ended with me in tears. I just couldn’t do it. The part of my brain responsible for planning had completely shut down.
How I Recover from Burnout Faster
In the past, I would have pushed through. I would have forced myself to keep going, convinced that stopping meant I was lazy or failing somehow. But I know better now.
Burnout is NOT laziness. It’s a serious neurological and physical shutdown that requires rest and recovery—just like a broken bone or the flu.
Here’s what I do to minimise the damage and recover as quickly as possible:
1. STOP. IMMEDIATELY.
I stop pushing.
I stop trying to keep up with my routine.
I stop pretending I’m fine.
Burnout is a real, physical event. The sooner I acknowledge it and stop trying to fight it, the quicker I can recover. I still need to function and look after my kids, but I take my foot off the gas in every area I can.
2. CANCEL PLANS (Without Guilt!)
If I can cancel or reschedule plans, I do. Social events, errands, housework—it can wait. If it’s not absolutely essential, it goes on hold. My body needs rest.
3. SLEEP. SLEEP. SLEEP.
A single nap won’t fix burnout, but sleep is critical to recovery. I go to bed early, sleep in when I can, and let my body dictate how much rest it needs.
4. LOW-STIM & LOW-DEMAND ACTIVITIES
During burnout, I avoid anything mentally taxing when I can. No high-energy socialising, no decision-heavy tasks, no overstimulating activities.
Instead, I focus on comfort and calm:
- Watching familiar TV shows (nothing too intense!)
- Listening to soothing podcasts or music
- Engaging in repetitive, low-effort hobbies (colouring, knitting, gaming, etc.)
5. REPLENISH MY ENERGY (Slowly!)
Once the worst of the exhaustion fades, I gently reintroduce activities that help me recharge. I prioritise:
- Time alone to reset my social battery
- Simple, nourishing meals (nothing too effort-heavy)
- Movement that feels good (gentle stretching, a slow walk, or even just lying on the floor doing nothing)
Why You Shouldn’t “Push Through” Burnout
I spent TEN YEARS stuck in long-term burnout because I kept pushing through instead of stopping to tend to my needs and recover properly.
If I had known back then what I know now, I would have prioritised rest sooner—because the longer you ignore burnout, the worse and longer it gets.
If you’re neurodivergent and you’ve ever felt guilty for needing more rest than others, let me remind you:
🚫 You are NOT lazy.
🚫 You are NOT failing.
🚫 You are NOT weak.
Your brain and body work differently, and sometimes, that means needing extra care and recovery. And that’s okay.
Final Thoughts: Prioritising Yourself
Autistic burnout isn’t something you can avoid completely, but the way you handle it makes all the difference. Learning to recognise the early warning signs and responding immediately is what allows me to recover faster—and more importantly, prevent long-term burnout from taking over again.
So next time burnout hits, treat yourself with the same care and compassion you would give to a sick friend. Your wellbeing comes first—and everything else can wait.
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