There are days where my brain feels like it’s running five tabs at once – and all of them are buffering.
For most people, being busy can feel overwhelming. For me, it’s more than that. It’s like every part of my brain is trying to fire at the same time, but with no clear direction. Thoughts pile up before I can process the last one, and suddenly I’ve got ten half-started tasks, three new ideas and a creeping sense of pressure building behind my eyes.
It’s not a meltdown. It’s not even burnout… yet, but it’s loud inside my head. Every little noise, every minor interruption, chips away at my ability to focus. The phone buzzes, someone asks a question, a Teams message pops up and I can feel my internal system short-circuiting. That might sound dramatic, but when you’re autistic, that sensory buildup isn’t just frustrating – it’s exhausting.
The Noise of Everything
When I’m at my busiest, the world gets noisier. I don’t necessarily mean the volume – although that doesn’t help – but the mental noise. The inability to concentrate because every little thing competes for my attention. I might be staring at one task, trying to focus, but my brain is already processing the five things after that. And then I hit a wall.
The inability to concentrate because every little thing competes for my attention
People ask, “Why don’t you just take a break?” But stepping away isn’t always a reset. My brain doesn’t switch off just because I close the laptop. It simply moves into a different mode of thinking. I try to compartmentalise, breaking tasks down into smaller chunks or using prioritisation techniques like Lakein’s ABC system. But it’s only effective to a point – because when my brain’s in overdrive, even the strategies I know work feel harder to access.
Switching Tasks Isn’t Easy
One thing I’ve come to realise is that my brain doesn’t like flipping between different types of tasks. If I’m in a rhythm – say, deep in data or writing content – being pulled into something completely different can feel like dragging myself uphill in wet sand. It’s not just an annoyance, it’s hard. And when you’re already busy, every extra effort counts.
That’s why I try to batch similar tasks. If I’ve got lots of creative work to do, I’ll try to stay in that mindset as long as possible. The moment I have to switch to something admin-heavy or jump on a call, it pulls me out of that zone, and regaining… that can take longer than most people realise.
Evenings: When the Dust Settles
Ironically, some of my best ideas come after work. When I’m watching TV or playing with my son, my brain finally has space to breathe – and that’s when the clarity arrives. It’s like my focus is no longer being forcefully directed, so the subconscious parts of me take over and solve problems I didn’t even know I was stuck on.
The subconscious parts of me take over and solve problems I didn’t even know I was stuck on
But it comes at a cost. By the evening, I’m drained. Not just tired, but mentally done. Between work, parenting and the constant processing my brain does in the background, my energy levels are depleted. I’ve described burnout in previous articles, and while a single busy day doesn’t send me into burnout, it chips away at me. Over time, it adds up.
The Drive for Perfection
At the core of all this? Perfectionism. I know I can get a task to 99% – because I understand it, I live and breathe it. But if I hand it over, I worry it’ll only reach 85%, simply because others aren’t as close to it. That mindset keeps the quality high – but it also keeps everything on my plate. It makes it harder to delegate, harder to slow down and harder to rest.
I know I can get a task to 99% – because I understand it, I live and breathe it. But if I hand it over, I worry it’ll only reach 85%, simply because others aren’t as close to it.
Sometimes I wonder if autism gives me an internal compass that’s constantly set to “try harder.” Not to compete with others, but with myself. If something’s not as good as it could be, why wouldn’t I push to make it better? But that question keeps me on a treadmill I can’t always step off of.
The Need to Understand
What helps – sometimes, is understanding why my brain works this way. I’ve written before that getting a diagnosis helped me explain patterns I’ve always lived with but never had a name for. It hasn’t changed them, but it’s given me language. And with that language comes permission. Permission to recognise when I’m overloaded. Permission to take a beat. Permission to stop chasing perfect every single day.
But I’m still learning. Every busy week teaches me something new about how I function, how I recover, and what strategies help. I might not always get it right – but I’m aware now. And awareness, especially when it comes to an autistic brain, is a powerful thing.
Autism: Through My Eyes 