[REDUX] How to beat autistic burnout
The summer bummer
Summer is here. School’s finally out, and I’m giddy as Alice Cooper. We survived the first year of high school, but only just barely. I learned a valuable lesson last week, the hard way—because that seems to be the only way I learn anything!
In the lead up, there were summative assignments to complete, exams to study for. Since Carson is AuDHD (autistic + ADHD), he needs considerable support with school. He had no idea, for example, how to study for an exam or how to research a major assignment. Fortunately, my executive functioning skills are strong. Unfortunately, that strength turns me into a real micromanager. Carson is exceptionally bright, gifted even, but as I wrote about in the last post, his smarts do not fit into our cookie-cutter educational system.
In trying to help him, I lost sight of boundaries and became overinvolved and overextended. I nagged him to study and even put together notes from his binder. As his deadlines mounted, so did my anxiety. The night before his exam was sleepless, and it wasn’t even my exam.
As parents, we want so badly to help our struggling kids, yet it is possible to do too much.
On the day of Carson’s second exam, there was an issue with his study notes. Not a big deal, but for me it was the last straw—I had a meltdown. Sobbing, shouting, intense feelings of frustration and overwhelm followed by a migraine attack and complete exhaustion, the effects of which bled into the next two days. The cumulative stress of the academic year wasn’t only wearing on Carson. I was also getting dangerously close to burnout. Time to back off.
Talk of burnout usually stems from work. School burnout is real, too, and parental burnout—equally real. And then there is autistic burnout. (You can read more about burnout and how it feels here.)
Autistic burnout is defined as an “overwhelming sense of physical exhaustion” in which the individual can be “prone to outbursts of sadness or anger. Burnout may manifest as intense anxiety or contribute to depression or suicidal behavior. It may involve an increase in autism traits such as repetitive behaviors, increased sensitivity to sensory input or difficulty with change. Burnout can sometimes result in a loss of skills: An autistic woman who usually has strong verbal abilities may, for example, suddenly find herself unable to talk.”
The only antidote for burnout is recovery, which can take days or even months. And you can’t rush it. So, I declare this summer will be a time of recovery. A time to figure out how to do things better next year. I know I need to take a more measured approach to schoolwork so that Carson can be accountable. If he fails, then so be it. Sounds harsh, I know. This is a very hard line for me to draw as a perfectionist, but as a mom it’s crucial to my relationship with my kid and as an autistic woman, to my own mental health.
For neurodivergent kids, summer is often a time to catch up on lagging skills (read: more appointments, more therapy). And yet there is already so much extra pressure on them that typical kids and their parents don’t experience. It is a draining ride with no let-up.
As parents, we feel such tremendous guilt if we allow our kids to let their hair down, to sleep in and play video games all day long. Big family trips and barbecues and pool parties and excursions are all very nice, but for neurodivergent kids this brand of “fun” can be just as stressful as school (arguably, more stressful because there is less routine and predictability).
We all need recovery days at home when absolutely nothing is planned. Days when we stay in our jammies and eat snacks instead of proper meals; days when we read about our special interests or binge our favourite shows and games. My kid won’t die if he doesn’t bathe or shower for a day. And you know what? Neither will I.
As parents, we rarely give ourselves permission to let our hair down, either. Maybe it’s not realistic to book a whole day off, but my goal is to block out a half hour here and there just as I would any set appointment. No one needs to know what you haven’t got planned, am I right?
When I was a kid, summers were lazy, unstructured, and often incredibly boring. My mom was too busy or broke—or both—to fill my weeks with camps and activities. She didn’t know it then (or did she?) but in freeing up that space, she created opportunities for spontaneity, fun, creativity… and healing. I feel like neurodivergent kids and their parents need more of that. I know I do. So, that is my intention for this summer. I hope it is for yours, too.