My commute to and from work used to be about four and a half hours a day in total.

I’d be up at 5:45 most days, having only slept lightly since midnight because my mood was so low, my exhaustion building like compound interest, and my mind constantly ruminating. The train would take me through the town I live in, travelling through two cities and finally arriving at work (not before walking up a steep hill). At 5pm, everything in reverse, except this time I’d be anticipating what kind of British Railway Madlibs I’d be hearing today.

“We’re sorry that the 5:30pm train is delayed. This is due to the driver having one too many in Spoons1 and is now splayed out on a swirly-pattern carpet.”

“We apologise for the delay in your journey today, which is caused by the train disintegrating unexpectedly in Runcorn.”

“This train is cancelled due to extraterrestrial interference.”

You get the idea. It was a gamble if a train could get me back home safely at a decent hour.

Many a time I would have to make the detour to my parents house, who luckily lived not too far from where I worked at the time. Although I felt so grateful for my parents’ hospitality, I don’t cope well with unexpected changes to my routine.

The uncertainty around travelling to and from my job, and whether I’d be able to get home ok, made me feel really on edge.

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Matters were not helped when one time I arrived back at the train station in my town fairly late in the evening, and ended up being followed on my walk home by a man shouting at me for no reason whatsoever.

There was nobody else around. I had no idea what he was saying as he was across the road the whole time, and sounded fairly drunk, but he followed me for a good while until I ran off and built up enough distance between us both. It was an extremely unsettling experience. Enough was enough.

I have since had the good fortune to be able to work somewhere in my town. This means that I have now, through luck alone, been able to build a routine akin to university campus life, but in my thirties, and nowhere near an actual university. Within walking distance of my house are lots of shops, my GP, the town centre, and my place of work. If I need to venture further afield into the city, a bus runs regularly from a stop nearby.

Eliminating travel anxiety has played a massive role in my recovery from autistic burnout.

Travel was an excessive demand on me: making sure the trains were running beforehand, the frantic preparation to get ready to go out for the day, the sheer psyching up to leave the house, the dealing (or not dealing) with the noise and commotion of early morning and evening train travel, the uncertainty over when I would be home, or if I would even make it home. It exhausted me. It was way too much.

It hasn’t been a cure all, sadly. Readers of this newsletter know well that I have been burnt out plenty of times since, and it can all be traced back to the demands of life and how I respond to them (or more likely, the demands I place upon myself, usually for no other reason than me wanting to prove to other people that I can be ‘normal’).

Or rather, it can be traced back to me being an autistic human living in a world that isn’t designed for autistic people, hence burn out.

I love the small world I have created for myself, however.

I feel more in control of my surroundings. Travel is one less thing to worry about. As for holidays, maybe in the future, when I am more financially comfortable, I’ll be able to plan travel that isn’t as taxing.

Right now I’ll stay in my little garden in the little town I live in, relatively content with the choices I have made for myself and the accommodations I have given myself because I needed them in order to live a decent life.

Thanks for reading.

Wavy Thoughts is a newsletter which celebrates neurodivergent people through the lens of my own life. If you’d like to hear more from me, please subscribe.

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