Overthinking and Autism: When Every Detail Feels Too Much

Hello besties,

Quote of the day: “Rock bottom can be the foundation you build on.”

Even when you think you have hit rock bottom, there is no going back. Remember you now

have a foundation start building on it.

I want to talk to you about something that sits in the back of my mind pretty much every time

I leave the house, every time I talk to someone, every time I replay a conversation at 2am

instead of sleeping. You know that feeling when you think, “oh no… did I sound rude?”

Yeah. That one.

Being autistic can sometimes feel like you are speaking the same language as everyone else,

but with a completely different set of rules that nobody gave you the manual for. And

somehow, without trying to, you end up coming across as blunt, uninterested, or even rude…

when that is literally the last thing, you are trying to be.

I wish people understood how much thought actually goes into every interaction. Like, if I do

not say much, it is not because I do not care. It’s usually because my brain is trying to process

everything at once — what you’re saying, what your face is doing, what my face is doing,

whether I’m standing normally, whether I’ve waited too long to respond, whether it’s my turn

to speak… It's a lot. It is overwhelming.

And then there’s eye contact. Oh my god. Eye contact.

People always say things like, “just look at me when I’m talking to you,” as if it is the easiest

thing in the world. But for me, making eye contact feels… intense. Like it's too intense. It’s like

trying to listen to someone while a spotlight is shining directly into your brain. When I force

myself to do it, I actually hear less of what the person is saying because all my focus is going

into “okay, don’t stare too much… don’t look away too quickly… is this normal??”

So, when I look away, or look at the floor, or focus on literally anything else, it is not

disrespect. It is me trying to actually listen to you properly.

I wish more people knew that.

Talking itself can be hard too, in ways that are kind of invisible. Sometimes my brain has the

words, but they get stuck on the way out. Or I say things in a way that sounds too direct

because I do not naturally wrap everything in the “social cushioning” that people expect. I do

not always instinctively add the softeners, the tone shifts, the little social signals that say, “I mean this nicely.”

So instead of “maybe we could try something else?” it might come out as “that doesn’t

work.” And I mean the same thing. But it lands completely differently.

And then afterwards? The overthinking kicks in.

I will replay the conversation over and over. “Did I sound annoyed?” “Were they offended?”

“Should I have smiled more?” “Was my tone wrong?” It is exhausting, honestly. Because while it might have been a small moment for someone else, it can stick with me for hours,

sometimes days.

Socialising in general can feel like performing in a play where everyone else got the script

except you. You are improvising the whole time, trying to copy what you have seen other

people do, hoping it comes across as natural. And sometimes it works. But other times, it just

does not.

And when it does not, people might think you are cold, or uninterested, or even arrogant.

When really, you might be anxious, overwhelmed, or just trying your absolute best to keep

Up.

I think one of the hardest parts is that people judge the outcome (how you come across)

without seeing the effort behind it. They do not see how much energy it takes to be in a

conversation, to respond “correctly,” to stay present when everything feels like too much.

But here is the thing I have been trying to remind myself, and maybe you need to hear it too:

Struggling with social stuff does not make you a bad person. Not making eye contact does not

make you disrespectful. Being quiet does not mean you do not care. And being direct does

not mean you are rude.

It just means your brain works differently.

And honestly? That is not something to be ashamed of.

I think the right people — the ones who really get you or at least try to — will start to

understand your communication style. They will learn that when you look away, you are

actually listening. That when you are quiet, you are thinking. That when you are blunt, you

are being honest, not unkind.

And the people who do not try to understand? That is not on you.

You are not responsible for performing neurotypical behaviour perfectly 24/7 just to make

other people are comfortable. You are allowed to exist as you are, even if that does not always fit into what people expect.

That does not mean we do not care about others’ feelings — we do, probably more than

people realise. It just means we show it differently.

So, if you have ever walked away from a conversation feeling like you messed it up, like you

were “too much” or “not enough” at the same time… you are not alone. I promise you, you

are not.

You are just navigating a world that was not designed with your brain in mind.

And you are doing better than you think.

Love,

Your autistic bestie.

Book of the week: Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi.