Tough days in the autism community

Some days are just harder. There’s no obvious reason for why you struggle that bit more. Thursday at work was one of those days.

Sat on the bus on the way to work and the man in front of me sprayed deodorant. Not a great start to my day. It was a strong smell and I couldn’t move away from it. Maybe that’s why my day was that much harder.

Half nine I had my usual Thursday morning meeting. It centred around new tasks and ones I was worried to complete. Maybe that’s why my day was harder.

Half ten I was approached to do another meeting. A pre-meeting meeting. Companies really love their meetings. Two meetings within an hour. Maybe that’s why it was harder.

Twelve o clock I had a meeting with high up people, seven of them, around one big desk. I was called on to talk and had no idea when it would happen or what they would ask. 90 minutes of being pushed far beyond what is comfortable, or even healthy, for me. Maybe that was why it was harder.

Because of the above meeting my lunch was an hour and a half late. Which meant my panic attack tablet was taken an hour later. Maybe that made it harder.

On the way home the bus had some non-routine passengers, a big family. A loud family. Maybe that made it harder.

I went home and skipped tea. I was exhausted and done with the day. My legs hurt more than usual. I hadn’t hit meltdown. I wasn’t in shutdown. But the day had kicked the crap out of me. I got into bed and played my puzzle game while listening to music.

None of those things would have individually made it a terrible day. Yes, the big meetings are hard, but on its own I wouldn’t have paid the price I did. But combined, those things knocked me for six. The hard days aren’t always the news flash worthy days. Sometimes it’s the typical ones that build up and continuously overwhelm.

Friday lunch time I worked from home because of an office move happening (that to deal with next week, not looking forward to it). Mum came over for lunch. I knew she had spent the week fighting tooth and nail for her autistic son to get the support he needs at school. She had spent it juggling his outrage after school and the authority’s indifference to help him. She was exhausted and felt guilty for feeling that way.

Being in the autism community, however that may be, means fighting through the hard days. It means fighting when no one has a clue you are fighting. When no one says good job, well done for making it through a Thursday. Well done for fighting so hard for your son’s wellbeing.

I wish I had something I could say to make it better. For one, we aren’t alone. For two, not all days are like my Thursday. Being in the autism community is about taking the bad with the good. Fighting when others don’t know you are and celebrating things others don’t understand.

I am so proud to be a part of a truly resilient and amazing community.

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