For a very long time, I used to be the image of a “good therapist.” Productive. Environment friendly. Nice with shoppers. My efficiency evaluations glowed, and supervisors held me up for example. I navigated excessive caseloads, countless paperwork, and fixed crises like clockwork. On paper, I used to be thriving.
However right here’s the factor: I wasn’t.
I’m autistic, although I didn’t understand it till later in life. Trying again, it’s apparent. My capability to tune into feelings, observe patterns, and maintain area for complexity wasn’t only a ability set—it was how I moved by the world. However so was my want for predictability, restoration time, and environments that didn’t deal with sensory overload like a persona quirk to “recover from.” None of these wants have been acknowledged.
As a substitute, my capability to masks was taken as proof that I used to be high-quality. As a result of I might push by the sensory assault of fluorescent lights, back-to-back periods, and relentless emotional labor, nobody thought to ask how I used to be doing. And actually, I didn’t know tips on how to ask both. I purchased into the concept being a “good therapist” meant operating myself into the bottom. Wasn’t everybody drained?
Seems, no. Not like this.
I wasn’t simply drained; I used to be unraveling. Slowly at first—lacking particulars in documentation, feeling the load of each session settle in my chest like concrete. Then suddenly—autistic burnout hit me like a freight prepare, dragging my CPTSD again into full pressure. I discovered myself struggling to remain targeted in periods, bodily in poor health after a full day of labor, and overwhelmed by the hum of lights and noise I might now not block out.
By the point I landed on the Houston Space Ladies’s Heart, a office that was really extra disability-friendly—one that may have been sustainable for me—it was too late. Years of company jobs had already burned me out like a Roman candle. I arrived with nothing left to provide. The injury was completed.
The Houston Space Ladies’s Heart was a office the place I lastly noticed the potential for disability-friendly practices, and I consider I might have thrived there if I’d had the prospect. However the years of unrelenting systemic pressures had drained me. I had spent too lengthy in settings that equated productiveness with resilience, leaving me—and plenty of others—with out the assist we wanted.
Leaving wasn’t only a loss—it felt like a betrayal. I had spent years advocating for autistic shoppers and colleagues. I educated friends about neurodivergence, serving to them see shoppers (and generally themselves) extra clearly. I spoke up in conferences about lodging, not only for shoppers however for workers. I pushed for change in techniques that didn’t make room for individuals like me.
However whereas I used to be busy advocating for others, nobody observed I used to be burning out. Supervisors waved off my exhaustion and slipping work as if resilience have been infinite. To be clear, this wasn’t simply their failure—supervisors have been as overwhelmed by the system as I used to be. They weren’t educated to see burnout as systemic, or to acknowledge the wants of neurodivergent workers. Lodging weren’t simply absent—they have been unthinkable. By the point I understood what I wanted, it was too late.
What’s significantly tragic is how little it might have taken to maintain me going: quiet areas to decompress, reasonable caseloads, and supervisors educated to acknowledge that burnout isn’t a private failure however an indication the system itself is unsustainable. These aren’t revolutionary concepts—they’re primary human issues.
Now, in personal observe, I work primarily with autistic and neurodivergent adults. I adore it. For the primary time, I can present up as myself—unmasked, sincere, and current. However I can’t assist mourning the prospect to have completed this work in company life, the place advocacy felt extra pressing.
I do know I’m not alone. Many neurodivergent professionals are burning out quietly in a discipline that prides itself on empathy whereas treating its suppliers like machines. And whereas these points disproportionately hurt neurodivergent therapists, they replicate broader systemic failures. Caseloads that stretch workers past their limits, a scarcity of coaching on tips on how to assist overwhelmed workers, and the prioritization of productiveness over individuals damage everybody.
Sure, company work is difficult on everybody. Sure, sources are stretched skinny. However that’s exactly why reform is so crucial. Addressing burnout isn’t nearly serving to people—it’s about creating techniques that truly perform for the individuals inside them.
The psychological well being discipline didn’t simply fail me; it failed the shoppers I might have served, the colleagues I might need mentored, and itself. Shedding neurodivergent therapists isn’t inevitable—it’s a selection the system makes when it refuses to vary.
Burnout amongst neurodivergent professionals isn’t about particular person resilience. It’s about systemic rigidity. Till we begin valuing advocacy, lodging, and the humanity of our suppliers, we’ll hold shedding the voices we want most. And that’s a loss none of us can afford.
