I struggle with particular things, whether you noticed or not – and, historically, I’ve made some pretty odd life choices.

Recently, the basic everyday normal functions have seemed insurmountable. Taking showers. Getting haircuts. Talking on the phone. I can’t seem to make a decision. And, I’m just so… tired. Exhausted, really. I’m just… done.

It turns out, I’ve been experiencing what the cool kids call “autistic burnout”. Nice. It kinda sounds like a cringy emo band.

Autistic burnout is anything but cool. It’s awful, and often really dark. I’ve been here before; a few times in the past. I’ve experienced this… this absolute need to escape. Flight on overdrive, but from my life. I just didn’t know what to call it back then.

3 times in the past, once right now. 2 of those times were devastating, the third simply remembered as “confused and tired as fuck.” Each time was bad. Every time I withdrew deeper into myself and further away from the rest of the world. Like, I had a massive network of acquaintances at one time. I used to travel the country on a rock n’ roll tour bus – you meet a few people along the way the way. That has since shrunk to a group that could fit on one hand, and now that even feels like too many.

The difference this time… it’s the first time I started glitching out. It’s like I was witnessing the FPS dropping in realtime. I lost command of my speech. My brain got stuck on spirals. I’ve never been so terrified that I was losing my mind, or that it might be irrecoverably broken.

Mental health challenges are no fuckin’ joke. It’s impossible to convey the severity of that to someone who has never experienced them. It’s scary. Like, truly terrifying.

Which, that right there, just — ever being mislead to think that there are people who go their whole entire lives without experiencing mental health issues. The notion that someone could go their entire life without having mental health fluctuate is the same as believing that no one ever gets sick with the common cold — they’ve never been to the doctor in their entire lives. It’s ridiculous. At best it means you were some rugged pioneer that trudged through it because no hospitals existed yet. Would you call a guy pussy for getting a colonoscopy? Why is a little head-checkin so different?

Anyway, back to my original rant – the burnt out. Like, I have to keep my phone on silent because hearing the buzz will flat-out ruin my day — I can’t bear the thought of having an actual conversation with anyone who knew me from the life I’m currently running from. But, like — they’re your friends, so you kinda have to.

Burnout isn’t a word. There’s not any language developed to accurately describe this particular state of emotion or state of being. For instance, humans have “love” to describe an indescribable human experience. Burnout is as equally profound, but neurotypicals don’t have a word for it. They’re trying to describe something they’ve never experienced. It’s like a blindman telling you about the color red.

And that right there is the problem. I’ve got someone tellin’ me how to love, when they’ve never been in love themselves.

Welcome to the autistic experience.