The Epic Tale of an Autistic Christmas
Wanna know what it’s like to be us? Here you go…
First off let me wish you all, Neurodivergent and Neurotypical alike, a very Merry Christmas (or whatever you celebrate).
The holidays are all about family, friends, gatherings, and good food. I’m a late-diagnosed autistic adult (diagnosed 10 years ago at age 46), and the only thing that sounds good to me on that list is the good food. If it’s cool with you, I’d like to get a to-go box so I can eat it at home alone.
Crowds are full of triggers for the large, panic attack I know is coming.
First is the sheer number of people in a room (usually 30-ish). It get’s crowded and you begin to feel claustrophobic. Too many random conversations are going on, and my autistic brain is trying to focus on each one. I don’t want it to do that, but my brain is in control.
The inside of my head feels like it’s heading for critical failure.
With that, I take the first of many trips outside to catch my breath and to lessen the sensory overload. For me that ended four years ago when I moved away from family and the sensory overload of Los Angeles to a town of 4,000 in the Missouri Ozarks.
