The Pros and Cons of Winter

I love every season but by the end of it, I’m always ready for the next one. But, as a neurodivergent person with multiple physical and mental health conditions, different seasons present both different excitements and different challenges. With winter around the corner, I thought I’d share some of the good things and some of the difficult things, along with how I’m learning to cope with the difficult things. This list is, of course, specific to me and my location so it’s not going to match everyone’s experience but hopefully they’ll be something useful to you in here, even if your experience of the season isn’t the same as mine.


PROS:

  • The sensory experience – I think winter is my favourite season as a sensory experience. I love the crispness of the air; I love looking at all of the beautiful lights and pretty Christmas decorations; I love the smells associated with winter and Christmas (in my house, at least), like satsumas, the meals we generally only have in winter, the super sweet smells of sugary puddings and sweets, Christmas trees, and so on; the sight, sound, smell, and warmth of a fire. There are, of course, downsides, like busy shops and blaring Christmas carols but, over the years, I’ve gotten pretty good at avoiding those things.
  • Fires in the evening – My Mum and I both love having a fire to end the day, like a little treat for ourselves. As I said above, I love the sensory experience and we both find it a really good destresser. One of our favourite things about this house is the gorgeous fireplace and every year, we both get really excited about having fires again.
  • Potential for snow – I love snow. It makes me so happy: watching it fall, standing in it as it falls, how beautiful it looks first thing before anyone has disturbed it, the way it crunches when you walk through it, watching the cats try to make sense of it, and so on. And because we get it so rarely, it’s always special. No, it’s not guaranteed but I still enjoy being excited about the possibility.
  • Christmas – I struggled with Christmas in my late teens and early twenties, which I think was largely to do with how much I was struggling with my mental health and ASD. But as I’ve gained a greater understanding of the long-term issues I deal with and talked about them with my family, Christmas has become much more relaxed and enjoyable. They’ve been fantastic at working with me so that I can do the parts that I really enjoy and not do the parts that I struggle with. It’s become such a better holiday since then. I see friends and family (COVID depending, obviously), spend warm and relaxed evenings with my favourite people, get a Christmas tree and decorate it with the decorations my family have been collecting for years, not feel guilty (or at least feel less guilty) about doing things I don’t usually feel like I have time for (like reading books or watching movies all day), exchange presents, and so on. We’ve found a way to make it a really special, enjoyable time.
  • The cats spend more time inside – With the colder weather, my cats (whose presence I find very soothing) spend most of the day inside when, in the summer, they spend almost all of their time outside. So having them around more is lovely. They’re usually in the living room with me, curled up on the cat tree or sprawled across the furniture, or, even better, snuggled up with me on the sofa. They’re gorgeous and it’s one of my favourite things about winter.

CONS:

  • The cold – I hate being cold. You can usually find me in a big jumper or wrapped in a blanket. I’m often cold in the summer so it’s even harder to stay warm in the winter. I’m super grateful for the heating, the fire, my electric blanket, and so on.
  • Managing temperature – I really struggle with temperature regulation. I get hot or cold really quickly but then it can take hours to return to normal (and then it can suddenly jump to the other extreme). And going from really cold outside to really warm inside can just make that even more tricky. Layering helps but only to a certain extent. I have been doing some research and there are brands that make clothes to help with this so I really want to investigate these as I can afford it. (x)
  • Different fabrics – Clothes for cold weather can cause sensory difficulties. They can be bulky, heavy, itchy, and so on, as well as making me feel claustrophobic and trapped in my own clothes, which can cause a lot of anxiety. As I said above, I tend to do a lot of layering with the clothes I’m comfortable in but that isn’t a fix all. I’m still looking for a coat that doesn’t stress me out and I really hate wearing gloves. But I’m still trying to find the best option.
  • Ice – I might love snow but the amount of ice around in winter can be pretty perilous. And between my less than perfect balance and my chronic pain making me somewhat unstable, I do worry that every step could disappear underneath me and land me on cold, hard pavements with painful consequences. Given how bad my pain has been recently, a fall could be very painful and that pain could linger for quite a while.
  • More difficult to meet friends – Especially with COVID in the mix, I find it much harder to meet up and hang out with my friends in the colder months. It’s so much easier (and cheaper) when we can hang out in a park or on the beach or something like that, plus it feels safer considering the times we’re currently living in. But finding somewhere to hang out inside poses certain challenges, like COVID anxiety, meeting everyone’s dietary needs, the costs of hanging out in a cafe for example for an extended period, and so on. It’s just that bit more complicated and harder to organise and I find that plans often get pushed back again and again. So I often end up seeing my friends less in winter which makes me sad.
  • Feeling sealed inside – In an attempt to keep the heat in and save money on the heating, we keep the windows and doors closed as much as we can. And while that does the job we’re trying to do, the side effect is that I often feel a bit claustrophobic, like I’m sealed into my house with only the same air circulating (obviously this isn’t scientifically true or I would’ve suffocated long ago). And that feeling really stresses me out. Mum has taken to leaving the windows cracked open at night to get some fresh air in, which does help, but the feeling does still start to creep in by the end of the day. So I’m still working on that.
  • Less light, more darkness – While I like how cozy the house feels when it gets dark early, I do sometimes find it stressful; it feels like the day is actually shorter and I have less time to get done everything I need to do. Plus, autistic individuals are often low in Vitamin D so with fewer daylight hours than usual, that can become a bigger problem. I’m already low in Vitamin D so I take a supplement prescribed by my doctor to avoid a serious deficiency that could cause health problems.

I don’t know if this is helpful but when I sat down to do some research for this post – to see what other autistic/neurodivergent individuals find good and difficult about winter – I couldn’t find anything for autistic adults. Everything I found was directed at parents helping their children to adjust to the change in season but that doesn’t just go away as we grow up, although the challenges might change. So, since I couldn’t find a single post or article relating to adults, I felt it was all the more important to write something on the subject. So I hope this has been helpful in some way. Let me know what you would include on your list or how you manage the seasonal change!

When Anxiety Is The Only Thing On The Menu

I know I touched on issues with food already this week but I thought I’d go into a little more detail so those of you who don’t experience this difficulty can get a glimpse into what it’s like. Food is a massive problem for me; it’s a daily cause of stress. Where am I going to be? Will there be food I can eat? If not, can I bring my own food? Can I get away with not eating or will people notice and point it out? It’s a constant loop and that is exhausting.

As I said in a recent post, I’m incredibly sensitive to the flavour of food; add even the smallest sprinkling of pepper to a meal and I can’t eat it. It overwhelms me and I just cannot eat it. Forget spicy food entirely. So I can only eat the simplest things: plain rice or pasta, unadorned chicken or fish, and so on. I practically live on fruit and vegetables. When there are lots of different flavours, I get overloaded. I can’t describe it better than I did in my sensory sensitivity post: “It’s like throwing a load of different coloured paints together: you don’t see all the different colours, you just get one new colour and it often isn’t a nice one.”

I’m also very sensitive to texture; there are very few things that don’t trigger my gag reflex. I’m sure all of you have experienced that at one time or another so you can imagine how desperate I am to avoid it. I remember a particularly bad experience with tofu; I’m actually shuddering just thinking about it. I have a similar problem with wet foods touching dry foods. It triggers the same response. So while my family – who are all fairly adventurous when it comes to food, at least from my point of view – flip through a library of cookbooks, I eat simple meals with ingredients that I can separate and I eat them over and over again.

Honestly, I don’t mind that. It’s safe. It’s comforting. It’s the pressure to eat ‘like a normal person’ that’s stressful. Going to restaurants and eating in public is a major anxiety: it’s very rare that there’s something on the menu that I feel able to eat and asking for something simple feels impossible. I find asking for anything difficult and drawing attention to this issue is something I try to avoid if at all possible.

As a child, I was labelled a picky eater and strongly encouraged to try different food. I know that my family and friends were just trying to help me: they were trying to prepare me for a world that would expect me to eat complicated food. But instead of it getting easier, it got harder. So eventually we reached this uneasy stalemate. But getting a diagnosis made a massive difference: it gave people an explanation, made them realise that it was something I couldn’t help. It took the pressure off in a big way. But as important as that is, it hasn’t fixed my problems with food. And as much as I struggle with it physically and struggle to get the right nutrition, it also has a big impact on my mental health.

People make assumptions when they hear how little I can eat. They think I’m being picky or deliberately difficult and see me as an inconvenience. I know that it’s not my fault and that it’s a valid reason to struggle but I find it incredibly embarrassing that I can’t eat like everyone else. I feel like it keeps me from really becoming an adult, especially when so much socialising revolves around the consumption of food and drink. It feels like a weakness; it’s something I’m ashamed of, which definitely feeds into both my body image issues and my depression, as well as my anxiety. When I get really low, as in dangerously low, food becomes even harder and I just lose the will to eat all together.

I vividly remember being about ten years old and reading a magazine article about a girl who had to have intravenous nutrition for medical reasons and I found myself wishing I could have the same, wishing I could not eat because it would be so much easier. And I still relate to that. I would give anything to be in control of this, rather than it have control of me. I wish I could choose what to eat, rather than navigate around the things I can’t. I wish I could eat according to my beliefs instead of having to worry about whether I’m getting enough protein or calcium or whatever (I would love to be a vegan, or even a vegetarian, and often feel guilty that I’m not but health wise, it’s ill advised when there’s already so little that I can eat). I wish I didn’t have to be afraid of blowing a sensory fuse, of getting completely overloaded, which can trigger a meltdown. I wish I could enjoy food. But I can’t and I’m scared I never will.

Living With The Volume Up Loud

I have always been incredibly sensitive, ever since I was a little kid. It was one of the words used most commonly to describe me as I grew up. While it was usually emotional, I was also sensitive to what was going on around me and that seems to have increased over time. I can get overwhelmed by all the sensory information coming into my brain and I end up struggling to process it all. The processing can get stuck or I’ll zero in on one specific thing, like tunnel vision. It can also happen emotionally. The smallest thing can unsettle me and it can take hours or days to come back to myself. When I was diagnosed with ASD, someone described this really well to me: where neurotypical brains can filter out information that isn’t relevant (not ignoring it but not consciously processing it), neuroatypical brains can’t, so all the information comes in at the same volume and overwhelms the brain.

I struggle a lot with noise. Loud, sudden noises, like a slamming door or a fire alarm are very upsetting. It’s like they’re inside my body, inside my head, and before long, I can’t think and my anxiety overwhelms me. If it ends quickly, I can slowly force it back until I can function again but if it continues, it can lead to a meltdown where I lose all control of my emotions and thinking. It’s awful.

When it comes to studying or writing (although not songwriting), I need some background noise, almost to fill the space around me and in my brain. I often refer to the earlier example of information coming in through every channel: if I listen to something familiar, like a well watched TV show or audiobook, it’s like I’m filling some of those channels with something that I don’t need to process because I’ve already processed it, leaving me with only the channels I need to work on whatever it is I’m working on. Having said that, if there are too many different sounds going on, I start to get overwhelmed. It’s like my brain can’t balance them correctly, focussing on one too much and not hearing the others and so on. As you can imagine, that can make playing music quite difficult. I’m finally getting into the habit of carrying earplugs around but that has issues of it’s own: I find the sensation of essentially blocking my ears a difficult one, plus they’re pretty uncomfortable.

I’d never really thought of myself as being sensitive when it comes to touch but the more I think about it, the more experiences come to mind. I’m pretty specific about the fabrics I can wear and there aren’t many things I can put on my skin. It doesn’t take much before it feels unclean and once that feeling sets in, I can’t shake it. It’s horrible. There have been a few days where even multiple showers won’t fix it. I’ve also had some pretty bad reactions to various soaps and make up products, even those labelled as suitable for sensitive skin. The most dramatic example of this was when I was given perfume for my birthday. I love the smell of it but wearing it causes this weird reaction: my eyes water, my nose itches, my throat hurts, and so on. The worst part is how badly it irritates my lips: the skin burns and splits and it can take days to heal. And I don’t even have to be wearing the perfume to have that reaction; I only have to be wearing something I once wore with the perfume. Washing and airing the clothes hasn’t seemed to help much but I’m holding out hope that it will eventually fade.

My relationship with food needs it’s own post (I’ll get there, I promise!) but I think it’s important to mention in this context. I am really, really sensitive when it comes to food, so much so that I can only handle pretty bland stuff. This used to be a big problem because my family is pretty adventurous when it comes to trying different recipes and that often caused stress and anxiety all around. I got labelled as a picky eater and the most common response was to push me to eat the things I didn’t like, assuming that the experience would get better. But it didn’t; I just got more and more anxious around food. But since the diagnosis, it’s been easier. Well, easier to manage. It’s something that people can understand and that has really lessened the pressure on me. Now, the people around me let me decide what I can and can’t handle. I struggle with both texture and with taste and that can make some food impossible to eat. I get so overwhelmed by all the flavours that I can’t taste any of them individually. It’s like throwing a load of different coloured paints together: you don’t see all the different colours, you just get one new colour and it often isn’t a nice one. And that links into being really sensitive to smell. Something that those around me can’t smell can overwhelm me like a fog. It gets into my throat and my eyes. I won’t be able to focus and often have to leave the vicinity.

There are other things that overload my brain and while they aren’t exactly to do with my senses, they feel pretty similar. I guess they’re based on intuition and it seems that my intuition can be as amplified as my other senses.

Being in a crowd of people also overwhelms me emotionally. I get overloaded with how everyone has a name, a favourite colour, family, friends (who all have names and favourite colours), foods they hate, superstitions, dates they always remember, phone numbers they always forget, movies they quote, and so on and so on and so on. I get overwhelmed by how much is in everyone’s lives and I end up feeling like I’m being crushed by the weight of that. I feel like I can’t breathe. Some days I don’t feel it so strongly but on the days where I feel really fragile, like I don’t have any skin, it’s very, very stressful.

Another thing that needs it’s own post is my reaction to other people’s emotions. I feel like a lightning rod for them, especially the strong ones. I want to write more about this at some point but again, it’s relevant here. When I’m around anyone feeling a strong emotion, I start to feel it too. Most commonly I feel other people’s grief. And there’s always guilt mixed in: they’re not my emotions so I shouldn’t be feeling them. But I can’t help it. And it doesn’t take long for me to feel overwhelmed by all of that.

All of these things become exponentially worse when I’m stressed or anxious which, of course, is when I feel least able to cope with it. I don’t know if it’s something I can change, or whether my brain is wired this way, making everything so intense. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither.