A #MyAutismJourney story by Veronika
At first, nothing seemed obviously wrong. I was functioning, keeping up, doing what was expected. I showed up, participated, responded, adapted. The cost of it wasn’t visible, even to me. After social situations, I felt an intense kind of exhaustion that didn’t match what had actually happened, but I ignored it. I told myself this was normal, that everyone must feel this way and simply manage better.
Over time, the signals became harder to dismiss. The fatigue deepened and stopped going away. My body started reacting in ways I couldn’t explain — constant nausea, weight loss, skin and digestive issues, emotional swings that felt disproportionate and out of control. Things I had previously tolerated without much thought, like noise or light, became overwhelming. I needed more structure just to get through basic routines. Eventually, everything narrowed down to the point where even simple actions felt impossible. I struggled to speak, sometimes losing the ability altogether. Tasks like brushing my teeth felt unmanageable, not because I didn’t understand them, but because the sequence itself became too complex to hold together.
Stopping wasn’t a choice at that point. It was a collapse. What followed was a long period of stepping back from everything I had built and slowly relearning how to function. Returning to work took time, and even then, it didn’t mean returning to the same baseline. Some things changed permanently. My sensory sensitivity now fluctuates depending on how much I’m carrying, and during more demanding periods, executive dysfunction returns in a very concrete way — simple tasks become overwhelming, and starting them can trigger panic.
What changed most was how I approach my own limits. I no longer assume I can or should push through everything. I plan my time with intention, leaving space for recovery, and I treat rest as necessary, not optional. Saying no is still something I have to actively choose, but it no longer comes with the same level of guilt. I’ve learned to recognise when something is too much, whether it’s sensory, social, or internal, and to name that in the moment. It’s not a finished process. It requires ongoing attention and adjustment. But it allows me to function in a way that is more stable, more predictable, and more in line with what my body has been trying to tell me all along.