Learning to Stand Alone
- Get link
- X
- Other Apps
By
Elli Z. Georgiadou
-
- Get link
- X
- Other Apps
With Elli is a gentle space for reflection, creativity, and growth. Here, I share thoughts on empathy, healing, womanhood, and the everyday art of being human. Blending philosophy, psychology, and soulful living, my blog invites you to slow down, reconnect with yourself, and find meaning in the simple moments that shape our lives. πΈ
Have you ever left a social gathering feeling completely drained,
| Photo by Karsten Winegeart on Unsplash |
Or felt like you had to put on a mask to get through a conversation?
You’re not alone — and for many autistic people, this experience is not occasional, it’s a daily reality.
In this post, I want to share what I’ve learned through personal research, conversations with friends on the spectrum, and my own questions as a neurotypical person trying to better understand what it's like to live with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). I’ll also reflect on how we can create more inclusive, compassionate spaces for everyone — diagnosed or not.
Social environments are often full of loud sounds, bright or flickering lights, background noise, strong smells, and physical proximity. For many autistic people, these stimuli don’t fade into the background — they’re loud and constant.
This can lead to sensory overload, a state where the brain can no longer filter or process the input, triggering anxiety, fatigue, or even shutdowns. Something as simple as dinner with friends in a busy cafΓ© can be emotionally and physically exhausting.
Many autistic individuals experience social norms like a script they weren’t given — filled with unclear expectations, unspoken rules, body language, sarcasm, eye contact, small talk, and facial cues.
Trying to “act” neurotypical — a behavior known as masking — takes enormous mental energy. It’s not just being social; it’s performing, translating, editing, and analyzing, all at once.
Over time, masking can lead to autistic burnout: a state of intense exhaustion, emotional shutdown, and loss of functioning.
Imagine always being "on" in a space where your natural self isn’t understood or accepted.
Many autistic people share that they suppress their real responses in order to fit in — avoiding stimming, hiding distress, downplaying overwhelm. This isn't just tiring — it’s depleting.
If you’re like me — someone without autism who wants to show up with more awareness — here’s what I’ve learned so far:
Not everyone expresses themselves the same way. Don’t assume someone is distant, rude, or uninterested just because they’re quiet, need more time, or avoid eye contact.
Let people step away. Let them leave early. Don’t force “just one more hour” if they look overwhelmed. Respecting boundaries is one of the kindest things we can do.
Fidgeting, pacing, rocking, or tapping are ways of self-regulating. These aren’t "weird" — they’re necessary and healthy. If someone is stimming, let them. Don’t stare. Don’t correct.
Simple, respectful questions can make a big difference:
“Would you prefer to message instead of call?”
“Do you want to meet somewhere quieter?”
“Would it help to take a break?”
Being asked — and believed — feels like safety.
Autistic people might not show emotion in the ways we expect, but that doesn’t mean they don’t feel deeply. Some express emotions differently — or only when they feel truly safe.
Maybe you're reading this and thinking:
“Wait, that sounds like me…”
“I always thought I was just too sensitive.”
“I never feel like I can be myself in groups.”
You don’t need a diagnosis to honor your needs.
You don’t have to pretend you’re fine if socializing exhausts you.
You don’t have to explain why you prefer quiet, structure, or solitude.
You get to ask:
What makes me feel safe?
What drains me?
What would be kinder for me right now?
Give yourself permission to protect your energy. You don’t have to fit someone else’s mold to be real.
Sometimes, the people we love — a family member, a friend, a partner — may not feel comfortable opening up, or they may not even understand why they feel so overwhelmed in social situations. They might not have the words yet. Or they might just be tired of pretending.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
Don’t push. Don’t assume. Just be there.
If someone you care about seems distant, overstimulated, or withdrawn:
Ask gently: “Is there anything I can do to help right now?”
Let them tell you — or not tell you.
Stick to the present. You don’t need to solve it or figure it all out.
Most of the time, your quiet presence is enough.
Just sitting beside them — in silence — can be a powerful form of support.
You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to fix. You don’t have to do anything.
Just being there with kindness and no pressure can mean everything.
The truth is, many people — whether or not they’re diagnosed — are walking around feeling like they’re “too much” or “not enough.”
We can change that, together.
Let’s become the kind of people who:
Leave room for retreat
Don’t punish difference
Normalize asking instead of assuming
Make spaces where others can breathe, not perform
Let’s listen better. Let’s unlearn pressure. Let’s create the world we all wish existed when we were younger.
Understanding autism isn’t just about information — it’s about intention.
It’s about choosing to see the full humanity in people who may process the world differently. And it’s about realizing that even if we don’t fully understand someone’s experience, we can still honor it.
Thank you for learning with me.
Comments
Post a Comment
π¬ I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Did this speak to you in any way? Feel free to share — your voice is welcome here.