Sun, Sea and Sensory Overload

Good day besties, 

Quote of the day: “Life has no remote, so get up and change it yourself.”

There is no fast forward button, to go forward you have to push forward. 

Today we are going to discuss holidays vs autism, who does not love a holiday? Even us neurodivergent people adore one, but it does not come with its struggles and that is what we are going to discuss today. 

On the surface, they are supposed to be relaxing, right? A break. Something to look forward to. And do not get me wrong, they can be really good. But if you are autistic, they are also… a lot. Like, way more than people tend to realise.

It kind of starts before you have even left the house.

Planning a holiday can go two completely different ways. On one hand, there is something genuinely satisfying about it. Like, deeply satisfying. You get to research everything, where you are staying, what is nearby, how you are getting around, what each day might look like. It is structured, it is detailed, it is predictable in a way that real life rarely is.

There is a comfort in that. You are building the experience before it even happens. You know what to expect. You can picture it.

But then… there is the other side of planning.

Because it is not just planning the nice parts, is it? It is thinking about all the unknowns too. What if something changes? What if it is too loud, too busy, too much? What if something goes wrong and you can’t just go home?

And then comes the waiting.

That weird in-between stage where everything is booked, everything is set… and now you just have to wait for it to happen. And instead of feeling calm, your brain just keeps running through it all on a loop. Replaying plans, imagining scenarios, trying to prepare for things you cannot fully prepare for.

It is like your brain does not quite know how to “pause.”

And then suddenly, it is happening.

The journey itself? Honestly, one of the hardest parts.

Airports are chaotic. There is no gentle way to put it. Bright lights, constant noise, crowds, announcements you can barely make out, queues that do not seem to move until they suddenly do. It is a sensory overload waiting to happen.

And the plane… even if everything goes smoothly, it is still a lot. You are stuck in one place, surrounded by people, unfamiliar sounds, that constant background hum. You cannot just step away if it gets too much.

You are just… in it.

And through all of this, there is something else running quietly in the background: masking.

Trying to look okay. Trying to act like everything is fine even when it is overwhelming. Smiling when you are exhausted, going along with things when you would rather take a break. It is constant, and it is draining.

Because holidays usually mean being around people all the time.

There is not much space to just be on your own. Even if you are with people you like, even people you love, it is still a lot of interaction, a lot of shared space, a lot of “on” time. And that builds up.

You do not always get that reset moment you would usually rely on.

But here is the thing, and this is important, there is a good side. A really good side.

Because when it starts to settle, when you find your rhythm, something shifts.

You start building a routine, even if it is a small one. Maybe it is the same breakfast every morning, or a quiet walk at a certain time of day or knowing how the evenings usually go. It does not have to be rigid—it just has to be familiar.

And that familiarity? It helps more than you would think.

Then there is the actual getting away part.

Being somewhere different, somewhere separate from your normal life, it can feel like a reset button. You are not tied to your usual responsibilities, your usual stressors. There’s space to breathe in a different way.

And once you have navigated all the hard parts, the planning, the waiting, the journey, the constant socialising, there is this quiet moment where you realise… you did it.

You made it through.

And in that moment, there is something like relief, but also something like pride. Because it was not easy, even if it looked easy from the outside.

And then, later on, there are the memories.

Not always the big, picture-perfect moments, but the small ones. The details. The way a place felt, the little routines you built, the things that made you feel calm or happy or just… okay.

Those stay with you.

So yeah, holidays are not just “a break.” Not really.

They are a mix of excitement and overwhelm, structure and unpredictability, joy, and exhaustion, all happening at the same time.

And maybe that is the thing worth remembering.

If someone finds holidays hard, it does not mean they are ungrateful or not enjoying it. It just means they are experiencing all of it—the good and the difficult—at once.

And honestly? That is a lot to carry, even in a suitcase.

Love,

Your autistic bestie.