When I hear about Autistic Burnout, I feel like it should be a complete cessation of activity, and while I haven’t posted on this blog for about two months, while my overall writing activity has been WAY down, I’ve still been doing stuff.
I’ve come to realize that Autistic Burnout is not, in fact, a lack of doing anything at all. There are TikTok creators in states of burnout who are still making TikToks. Not doing anything at all means dying of starvation. Dehydration, even. Obviously, we still have to do SOMETHING.
It’s a matter of reduced production, even greatly reduced production. Which, in my case, means… far less writing. Far less reading. Far less of just about everything except the bare minimum needed to get through the day.
That’s how I’ve been at work. That’s how I’ve been at home. And I think I’m finally crawling my way towards the light.
It’s also important to note that this isn’t depression. It’s closer to acedia, and at times I’ve described it as such, but–alexithymia at play–that’s not quite right, either. It’s hard to describe exactly what it is. I want to do stuff, but everything just seems pointless. Not too much effort, just… pointless.
And see, that makes it sound like depression, but it really isn’t. Depression comes with this weight, like Giles Corey beneath his pile of stones. Like one more thing will crush my ribcage. I’ve had depression, it’s not that.
And acedia is a listlessness (listlessness, listlessness… my echolalia gets distracted by THAT fuzzy little squirrel [sqwwwwwirl, sqwwwwwwwwwwirl]), and it’s not really that, either. I want to do stuff, but my mind is just this fuzz of muck and fog that there’s nothing that wants to be done.
That’s it: That’s the best I can describe it. My brain is just a fog of goo, where I can see the basic forms of Things I Want To Do, but nothing is clear enough to be approached.
That, for me, is burnout.
So I eat. I shop for food. I go to work. I clean the house. I do the basic business and life tasks that need to be done, and I stare at books and try to read them (it took me over a year to read “The Love Songs of W. E. B. Dubois”, and admittedly long and emotionally charged book, but still… it’s not THAT long).
And yet, today, like a light switch in my soul, something just clicked back on. I hope it’s going to stay that way for a while, I hope I can use this inertia to get back on track.
Time will tell, but at least, here’s a post.