Blowing Out Candles, Not My Energy

Hello besties, 

Quote of the day: "Your struggle today is building and developing your strength for tomorrow.

Even when today feels heavy tomorrow will be different and feel different, today is building the strength you need to face tomorrow."

Birthdays are supposed to be fun, right?

Cake. Presents. Messages from people you have not spoken to in six months suddenly appear like “hope you have the best day!!!” Restaurants. Singing. Decisions. Attention.

For a lot of autistic people though, birthdays can feel less like a celebration and more like being dropped into the middle of a social obstacle course while everyone else insists you should be enjoying yourself.

And that is the awkward part to explain to people.

Because you are grateful. You do appreciate the effort. You are not trying to be difficult or miserable or “ungrateful.” It is just that birthdays often involve nearly everything autistic brains can struggle with all happening at once.

Too many choices. Too much pressure. Too much attention.

Even deciding what to do for your birthday can become exhausting.

People always ask:“So what do you want to do?”“Where do you want to eat?”“What do you fancy?”

And somehow those simple questions feel impossible to answer.

Because choosing a restaurant is not just choosing food.

It’s:

• How loud is it going to be?

• Will it be crowded?

• What if the lighting is awful?

• What if the menu changes?

• What if everyone hates the place I pick?

• What if I panic and cannot eat?

• What if I choose wrong?

That last one feels massive.

The fear of choosing wrong.

You can spend days stressing over one decision because birthdays come with this invisible pressure that you are responsible for everyone having a good time. And when you already overthink everything normally, suddenly being the centre of plans can feel horrible instead of exciting.

Sometimes you end up saying:“I don’t mind.”“Anywhere is fine.”“You choose.”

Not because you genuinely do not care, but because the pressure of deciding feels too heavy.

And honestly? Half the time you do not even know what you want yourself.

Then there is the actual day.

The social battery starts draining from the second your phone lights up with messages. Even nice messages can become overwhelming when dozens arrive at once and you feel like you need to respond correctly to every single one.

People expect you to be cheerful all day too. Extra social. Extra engaged. Extra grateful.

Meanwhile your brain is already overloaded by lunchtime.

And then comes the presents.

This is the part people misunderstand the most.

Opening presents in front of people can feel painfully uncomfortable when you are autistic.

Not because you do not appreciate the gift.

But because suddenly everyone is watching your reaction.

You become intensely aware that there is a “correct” response you are supposed to perform: Smile enough. Look surprised enough. Sounds exciting enough. Don’t react too little. Don’t react too much.

And if your natural facial expressions or tone do not always match what you feel internally, it can become pure anxiety.

You might genuinely love the gift while simultaneously panicking that your face looks wrong.

So instead of enjoying the moment, your brain is busy monitoring itself like: “Did I smile?” “Was that too flat?” “Do they think I hate it?” “Am I being awkward?” “Now everyone’s staring.”

Even the act of being perceived that intensely can feel exhausting.

Sometimes people joke about autistic people being “hard to buy for,” but a lot of the stress is not even the present itself, it is the social performance wrapped around receiving it.

And do not even get me started on surprise parties.

Some autistic people love them. Some absolutely do not.

Because surprises remove preparation.

Preparation is safe.

Knowing the plan, the people, the timings, the noise level, the expectations — that helps things feel manageable. Taking that away can turn what was meant to be thoughtful into something genuinely distressing.

Birthdays can also bring this weird emotional confusion where you feel happy and overwhelmed at the exact same time.

You want to feel celebrated while also wanting everyone to leave you alone.

You can appreciate people caring while desperately needing quiet.

You can love your friends and still need recovery time after seeing them.

That contradiction is hard to explain to people who think social exhaustion only happens after bad experiences.

Sometimes even good things are overwhelming.

Especially for autistic people.

And honestly, I think a lot of us end birthdays feeling guilty.

Guilty for being stressed. Guilty for needing breaks. Guilty for struggling with things other people seem to enjoy naturally.Guilty because people made an effort for us and we still ended up overwhelmed.

But birthdays do not have to look a certain way to count.

A quiet birthday counts. Ordering your safe food counts. Staying home counts. Seeing one person instead of twenty counts. Opening presents privately counts. Changing plans halfway through counts.

You are allowed to celebrate in ways that actually feel comfortable for your brain instead of forcing yourself through traditions that leave you exhausted.

Sometimes the best autistic birthday is just feeling safe enough to enjoy it.

Love,

You're autistic bestie!

The book of the week is going to not be a thing for a little while due to health reasons I am not able to read for a little while.