🌻 By Angel Amorphosis, AI-assisted by Æon Echo
Life as an autistic person can feel like being caught in a double bind.
- If I pace myself sustainably…
I look (or feel) like I’m underachieving. Even my own goals can feel endlessly out of reach, as if the finish line keeps moving further away. - If I push myself harder…
I crash. Exerting myself to meet even “basic” standards can burn me out and force me into recovery, undoing all the progress I made.
This paradox is not only about society’s expectations. It also plays out in my relationship with myself.
The Burden of Ambition and Abundance
I have ambitious personal goals and a burning awareness that my time on Earth is finite. On top of that, I am both blessed and cursed with an overflow of creativity. Because my mind processes things others might not even notice, I generate ideas constantly.
Where some creatives face blocks, I face floods. My notes apps hold tens of thousands of seeds: songs, stories, projects, concepts, all asking to be manifested.
On paper, that abundance should be a gift. In practice, it creates its own challenge:
- Oversaturation.
- Decision fatigue.
- The need for systems to track, filter, and prioritise.
- The pressure of skills to learn, resources to gather, and fleeting windows of inspiration that can close as quickly as they open.
So while I rarely run out of inspiration, I often run out of capacity. My challenge is not making something out of nothing. It is deciding which somethings to make before time, energy, or health run out.
The paradox compounds: I am both endlessly abundant and severely limited.
Compromise and the Illusion of Balance
One way out might be to compromise: to accept a smaller definition of success, to settle for “good enough.” But that raises heavier questions. How much of what drives me is negotiable? How much compromise risks losing the essence of who I am?
Another imagined path is the narrow crossover: a fragile sweet spot where I push myself just enough to achieve, but not enough to burn out.
The problem is that sustaining that balance comes with its own toll. Constant self-monitoring, rationing energy, and adjusting to shifting circumstances consumes resources in itself. Balance becomes another job.
The Reality
And then there is what actually happens.
In reality, I oscillate. I build momentum, I try to pace myself, I get carried by enthusiasm and a false sense of stability, I push harder, and then I crash. Then comes recuperation, and the cycle begins again. Burnout, recovery, momentum, overreach, collapse.
Even when I somehow manage to hit what looks like an optimal balance, it is fragile. All it takes is one unexpected disruption. A friend inviting me for coffee. A workplace drama. An appliance breaking. An urgent email. Suddenly I am spinning through the resource-management asteroid field.
The obvious solution might be to leave some “headroom” in my spoon budget. (“Spoons” being a common metaphor for energy in neurodivergent communities.) But that creates its own bind. Leaving spare capacity means something else goes neglected, nagging at me from the corner of my mind. Either I burn myself out dealing with it, or I burn myself up with guilt for leaving it undone.
A Closing Thought
To live inside this paradox is to be pulled in two directions at once: bursting with ideas and possibilities, yet constrained by the narrow economics of energy, time, and health.
It is not a complaint, and it is not a plea for pity. It is simply an awareness: that the autistic experience often sits at the crossroads of overflow and scarcity, ambition and limitation, momentum and collapse, control and chaos.
And maybe there is something universal in that tension. In one way or another, we are all negotiating what to do with the time and energy we have. The difference is that for autistic people, the margins are thinner, the trade-offs sharper, the balance more precarious, and the paradox harder to ignore.