Autistic Burnout at Work: My Fight-or-Flight Experience and Sensory Overload

When My Body Hit Panic Mode at Work

Yesterday at work, I was just standing at my counter, waiting for the next customer to walk through the door, when out of nowhere, my heart rate spiked. I don’t know what triggered it—nothing obvious set me off—but my body went straight into fight or flight.

Box breathing didn’t help much. Stimming didn’t either. I felt trapped inside my own body, my pulse racing up to 130 bpm, according to my smartwatch. I was dizzy, faint, and still—I had to push through. A customer walked in right in the middle of it, and like I always do, I threw on my mask. I covered my autistic traits. I forced myself past a breaking point I should have never crossed.

Worst decision I’ve made in a long time.

I helped the customer anyway, even though I was falling apart inside. The second I was done, I went straight to my manager and told him I needed to sit down. Thankfully, he said okay. I asked John if he could come back early from lunch, and he did—which I’m grateful for, because the counter had more customers, and I couldn’t stay up there.

I ended up taking two hydroxyzine tablets to calm down. One wouldn’t have been enough. Between the adrenaline crash and the relentless sensory overload from all the noise and chaos at work, my nervous system was completely fried.

I’m planning to talk to my care team about whether it’s time to add a midday dose of metoprolol or find something else to help manage these spikes better. I shouldn’t be forced to white-knuckle through these moments alone.

It’s frustrating—being autistic and feeling like people don’t really get what’s happening inside your body and mind. Most of the time, it feels like people think I’m being dramatic or overreacting. But I’m not. This is my reality.

The only person who seems to really understand me on a core level is Mikey—he has ADHD, and he just gets it. There’s something unspoken in the way we relate. That kind of understanding is rare. And needed.

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📝 Note to Neurotypical Readers:

If you’ve made it this far—thank you for reading.

This post isn’t just a story. It’s a real, raw look at what it’s like to be autistic in a world that often doesn’t make space for us. What might look like anxiety, moodiness, or overreaction on the outside can actually be the result of deep sensory overwhelm, masking, and burnout that we’ve been trained to push through just to appear “okay.”

If you know someone who’s autistic—or even just someone who seems easily overwhelmed or “different”—pause before assuming they’re being dramatic. Ask what they need. Give them space to just be. Sometimes, the smallest kindness or understanding can make a massive difference.

You don’t have to fully understand what it feels like to respect it. And that respect? It goes a long way. 💙