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Neurodivergence and Burnout: A Personal Journey Through the Covid-19 Pandemic

A Neurodivergent Perspective on Mental Health and Resilience

By Aaron CortésPublished 7 months ago 14 min read
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Original art by Aaron Cortés

It has been three years since the COVID-19 pandemic, and the internet mainstream seems to have forgotten about it. This is understandable; we all want to move on. However, it is undeniable that the pandemic changed our lives dramatically, and it is necessary to talk about it to help us move on.

In my case, I am one of the many then-undiagnosed neurodivergent adults who still deal with the invisible and therefore difficult-to-understand consequences of the pandemic that are particular to us. This is my experience, and this is what I have learned.

Adapting Amidst Chaos

It was the summer of 2021. I was almost 29 and studying abroad. My two roommates and I had moved into a tiny apartment with no AC in Toronto after our landlady sold our cozy home near a big park during spring. I was drained, both from the exhausting move and the challenges of adapting to online learning. "No problem," I thought, "I can do this if I stay organized and disciplined."

I have always felt that I needed my own space to work so I could do it in absolute silence without being rude to people, so I got a loft bed to fit a desk into my room. The bed blocked the natural light coming from the skylight, making me strain my sight and feel sleepy. But it was that or continuous interruptions from my roommates’ daily lockdown-induced activities.

Determined, I prepared for a challenging working session. I wiped the sweat off my face and logged into the college platform to find the assignment sheets for the midterms. The noise of drilling and hammering from the neighbor’s apartment didn’t cease until nine at night. The campus, libraries, and coffee shops were all closed. There was no escape from the din. I had stayed at my desk working all day long, but I made no progress at all.

Image AI-generated with Canva.

The COVID-19 pandemic triggered a series of emotional and mental challenges. For neurodivergent people, the impact has been particularly significant.

Neurodivergence refers to individuals whose brain functions differ in one or more ways from what is considered standard or typical. These differences can be present from birth, as in the case of autism, ADHD, or dyslexia, among others, or they can develop later in life, such as with BPD, OCD, or PTSD, to name a few. It's important to note that these conditions are not an exhaustive list; neurodivergent experiences encompass a wide range of neurological differences and challenges.

I wasn’t aware of my neurodivergence at the moment of the pandemic. Yes, I was a 28-year-old studying among 22-year-olds. Yes, most of my peers had hit the standard milestones of every functional adult, in comparison to my curriculum of weird experiences and filmmaking attempts. But I attributed that to dramatic events in my personal history that would put anyone behind in life. What made me turn to neurodivergence for answers was the fact that I had done everything in my power to heal from those experiences. I was away from stressful people; I was in an environment where I could express myself, and I was on the path to becoming professionally creative, which I loved. There was no justification for not being able to deal with the same hardships everyone was dealing with given the context. Then why couldn’t I? Why did this nameless feeling come back to paralyze me again and again, no matter if I was better in life?

I reflected that I could overcome this if I could ask for support, but support for what? For my lack of focus? For my paralyzed body? Every time I asked for support, I received the same answers. My professors treated me with patience and empathy, but nothing they said helped me overcome the nameless void that stood between me knowing what I had to do and actually doing it. I thought that the 'what' was the 'how,' and everyone I asked around thought so too. I concluded that it was me who didn’t understand those who wanted to help me.

The Journey to an ASD Diagnosis

In my desperation for answers, I googled: 'Why can’t I understand people?' The search yielded results that mostly referred to autism.

Autistic Spectrum Disorder (ASD), or autism, is a complex neurodevelopmental condition that affects social interaction, communication, behavior, and sensory processing. It exists on a spectrum, with symptoms varying from mild to severe. Those with ASD may struggle with social cues, engage in repetitive behaviors, and have sensory sensitivities.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel so alone in the world. I had always felt like an outsider, compelled to decipher the context of any situation I encountered so I could interact properly. Reading people’s intentions has always been difficult for me, so I relied on the context. This led me to develop analytical thinking and creative problem-solving skills, which made people think that I was smart, even gifted. But there I was, struggling with college and losing my identity as a good student—the only thing that had given me value as a person to figures of authority.

Still, I thought it would be irresponsible to self-diagnose. I was constantly anxious because of the continuous noise, confinement, and sleep deprivation; this could make me susceptible to suggestion. I researched ways to be diagnosed, but it was almost impossible to reach a psychiatrist because most of the health channels available were dedicated to alleviating the COVID-19 crisis. With all the news about saturated hospitals and health clinics, and with the proverbial waitlist for mental health services, I didn’t dare to get entangled in the mess; thus, I found a private institution, The Redpath Centre, and I got the earliest appointment for an ASD evaluation I could get: three months hence.

Diagnosis of ASD is typically made based on behavioral observations and developmental history. For my diagnosis, I completed these tests:

  • Adaptive Behavior Assessment System – 3rd Edition (ABAS-3), Self-Report
  • Adolescent/Adult Sensory Profile
  • Autism Quotient (AQ)
  • Autism Diagnostic Observation Scale – Second Edition (ADOS-2) – Module 4
  • Behavior Rating Inventory of Executive Function (BRIEF-A) – Adult Version, Self- and Informant-Report
  • Clinical Assessment of Depression (CAD)
  • Delis Kaplan Executive Function System (D-KEFS) – Trail Making and Word Fluency Tests
  • Empathy Quotient (EQ)
  • Eyes Test (Adult)
  • Multidimensional Anxiety Questionnaire (MAQ)
  • Personality Assessment Inventory (PAI)
  • Social Responsiveness Scale – Second Edition (SRS-2) – Self- and Informant-Report
  • Toronto Alexithymia Scale (TAS-20)
  • Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale – 4th Edition (Canadian) WAIS-IV
  • Wechsler Individual Achievement Test – 3rd Edition (Canadian) WIAT-III
  • Wechsler Memory Scale – 4th Edition (WMS-IV)

Treatment for ASD varies widely based on an individual's specific needs and symptoms. Some common therapies and treatments used for individuals with ASD include behavioral therapies, speech-language therapy, occupational therapy, social skills training, sensory integration therapy, medications, educational support, parental training (in case the autistic person is a child), and supportive services.

In my case, I was diagnosed with ASD-level 1, formerly known as Asperger's Syndrome. Although individuals with ASD-level 1 have low support needs, accommodations are still necessary to ensure a good quality of life. The primary focus of these accommodations revolves around maintaining routines that promote autonomy and cultivating an environment where sensory input can be managed. The goal is to prevent sensory overload and promote emotional wellness. When executed successfully, these strategies can help an autistic individual excel in their areas of special interest and prevent isolation by keeping up with their peers. Unfortunately, the COVID-19 lockdown made this virtually impossible.

This is Fine meme. Original by K.C. Green.

The Effects of Burnout

It was October of 2021 when I managed to move to a basement apartment close to the campus, which remained closed. That was when I understood the full-blown consequences of burnout.

Burnout is a state of chronic physical and emotional exhaustion, often caused by prolonged periods of stress and overwork. Burnout can manifest as physical symptoms, such as headaches and stomach problems, as well as emotional symptoms, like irritability, apathy, and a sense of hopelessness It is particularly common in high-pressure work environments or situations where individuals consistently face excessive demands or challenges without adequate support or resources, a.k.a. a frequent situation for neurodivergent people who try to keep up to neurotypical standards.

Extreme, continuous fatigue and lack of focus weren’t the only effects of a sudden and extreme disruption of life with no time to adapt. My brain was so saturated that the din of the eight-month-long construction was still in my dreams. The normal sound coming from the furnace room felt ominous. The silence of living alone and the continuous cacophony inside my mind overwhelmed me, I was continuously on TikTok and YouTube to silence both.

I can’t remember if unpacking my six moving boxes took me three weeks or three months. My stomach hurt so much that I couldn’t eat anything but oatmeal and veggies for about a month. My course load was extremely light, but I could barely manage it. My life at the moment consisted of sleeping, attending online classes, trying to do homework, and getting food.

My therapist had advised me to get tested for ADD/ADHD, which is not uncommon to coexist with autism. I couldn’t afford another in-depth test from a private institution, so I found a psychiatrist. Still, I couldn’t take the test due to my overwhelming fatigue. Even a simple issue like missing a call from the clinic, caused by the poor cellphone signal in my basement room, became a challenge I couldn't navigate without compromising the precious focus I needed for my homework.

It was as if I was executive dysfunction incarnate.

Image AI-generated with Canva.

Coping with Executive Dysfunction

Executive dysfunction refers to difficulties in the brain's executive functions, impacting skills like attention, impulse control, organization, time management, and emotional regulation. Individuals with executive function issues often struggle with tasks requiring focus, organization, and initiation, leading to challenges in school, work, and daily life. Executive function issues are one of the core symptoms of Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD/ADHD), although they are often present in ASD as well.

The key to coping with executive dysfunction is to reduce the number of choices to make throughout the day and to break down tasks into smaller tasks. I went as far as to break down my waking-up process: I set three alarms for the morning. The first alarm was to slide into the waking world and enjoy my last thirty minutes of not thinking about commitments; the second alarm was to gather strength while staring at the ceiling; the third alarm was to get out of bed and dress up.

Breakfast was a challenge as well, cooking implies several steps. I had read that a protein-rich meal promotes higher levels of dopamine, which helps to focus. I solved this by having either a protein shake or a protein bar in the morning, followed by a walk around the neighborhood for blood flow and sunlight. The human body is designed for movement and outdoor life; these actions gave me energy that I would need later to perform the non-human activity of sitting in front of a screen for several hours for lockdown productivity.

When I sat down at my desk, I checked the big calendar I had on the wall for the next due assignment and worked on that. I was slow and needed to get up often, but I could pull off most assignments.

I left housework for the evenings and weekends when I couldn’t stare at screens anymore. I washed my dishes little by little throughout the day so they wouldn’t accumulate, and I designated one or two days to cook everything I would eat for the week. I shopped for groceries with headphones on to distract me from the stressful atmosphere at the stores, and I ordered delivery when I didn’t have any energy to spare.

I treasured those rare times I could have in-person meetings with a friend. My senses couldn't tell online meetings from other computer activities.

I fought hard to continue with my commitments, but my body won over my will and I found myself forced to take a break from college. I flew back to my parent’s house in Mexico on September 2022. It was heartbreaking, especially because I only had to do my internship and take two more courses to graduate.

Taking this break may have been vital for my health, but it represents an important delay in my graduation due to my financial capabilities. It will be a challenge to set my way back straight because such a break puts me on the stinky side of employers’ judgment. The most outraging of this all is that this situation is not individual to me: there are a lot of non-diagnosed neurodivergent adults whose lives crumbled down during the COVID-19 pandemic crisis. Some of them have been able to get back up; others haven’t. The determining factors for this have been the knowledge of their conditions, the resources to work around their needs, and the support and empathy of their loved ones.

By Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

Rebuilding a Life Post-Burnout

A year has gone by, and I am starting to feel like myself again. I was fortunate to receive help from my parents; they have facilitated my access to therapy, a psychiatrist, an ADHD diagnosis, and medicine. This has been vital for my recovery, along with rest and physical exercise.

Now the challenge is to rebuild my life with those strategies that will help me thrive. It’s unwise to repeat the cycle and just dive into life with the same old neurotypical ways because that’s a recipe for burnout. Life doesn’t stop, and if I want to be available and reliable when the next big change comes, I must live my life in a way that works for me, even if that way is counterintuitive by neurotypical standards.

Rebuilding life after burnout sounds great, but the concept by itself is too abstract for a neurodivergent brain. It is necessary to analyze what “rebuilding a life after burnout” means in actions.

First, there is the burnout component. My exhausted brain rejects the neurotypical method of action because it implies powering through cryptic responsibilities until an equally cryptic goal is achieved, so I am compelled to take the neurodivergent course of action and analyze the situation to create a flexible strategy that can be followed through.

Burnout recovery can be broken down into three steps: self-care, morale boost, and mentality shift.

  • Self-care in its most basic form is about taking care of the body. The basic components of a healthy physique are sleep hygiene, physical activity, a balanced diet, and general cleanliness habits like showering, brushing teeth, and wearing clean clothes. It is helpful to set alarms and reminders for pills and any other activity that might slip through a short attention span.
  • Morale boost is not only about doing activities that bring pleasure but also about acknowledging progress. I use a bullet journal as a log to help me keep track of both my recovery and my ideas. When I feel drained from seemingly doing nothing, the log is there to remind me of all the things I have done; going through its pages helps me gain perspective on everything that has changed since I started journaling, thus dispelling that sensation of fruitless effort that is so common in both burnout and ADHD. Other great ways to boost morale are to keep in touch with empathetic friends and family members, as well as gradually reintroducing activities that you enjoyed before burnout into your routine.
  • Mentality shift will occur naturally by practicing self-care and doing activities that help boost morale. A mentality shift isn’t about what productivity gurus, positive thinking enthusiasts, and so-called life coaches tell us to do; it’s about not believing the lies that burnout has told us. It is common for neurodivergent people to think that we aren’t enough; most of us grew up feeling that way, so we try to overcompensate, and then, we become burned out. When we are burned out, we can’t keep pace with everyone else, and it seems like a confirmation of our mediocrity. Mentality shift is about acknowledging that you didn’t have the tools that fit you before, and by learning how to use your new tools, you can do what you are capable of.

Burnout is a life-changing experience that takes all our resilience to go through and forces people to take on a new perspective about themselves. It is hard and even hellish, especially if you have to support yourself while going through it. Some people can take years to recover depending on their available resources. This is why it is vital to acknowledge diversity and foster empathy; you never know if there is something within you for which you may need support under certain circumstances, call it a condition or a feature. We are humans; gregarious, varied, sentient. We are not machines.

Now, this article will figure in my log as a little victory. Thank you for reading it, and I wish you luck.

By Vlad Bagacian on Unsplash

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About the Creator

Aaron Cortés

Mexico-based Writer.

English and Spanish.

Follow me at:

Instagram: @arawen.cortes

Twitter: @arawen_cortes

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