Tag: Autistic burnout

  • We Are Star Stuff: Being Autistic, Ethodiversity and Cosmic Connection

    We Are Star Stuff: Being Autistic, Ethodiversity and Cosmic Connection



    My physical body is your physical body, and just as the sun and stars are present in you, they are also present in me. […] we are all made of stars.

    Vietnamese Buddhist monk: Thich Nhat Hanh

    I find it genuinely awe-inspiring to know that the atoms that make up your body, the oxygen in your lungs, the calcium in your bones, the iron in your blood were forged inside stars that died before our planet even existed. Not metaphorically, we are actually, literally, made of stars!

    A 2017 survey of 150,000 stars confirmed that humans and our galaxy share around 97% of the same kinds of atoms, and that the six elements essential to life — carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, phosphorus, and sulphur — are woven right through the Milky Way (Howell, 2017). We are a living part of the cosmos.

    I have been thinking about this a lot, and what it may mean to us as Autistic people, and it is something that is evolving in conversations within the CASY Autistic Physics group and my recent collaborative work with Stimpunks. There is something about being made of stardust that resonates far deeper than a scientific fact for me.

    As an Autistic person, I have always felt that the boundaries between myself and the world are more porous than I was told they should be. Everything feels entangled, I am deeply influenced by my environment in ways that go beyond what neuronormative frameworks tend to account for. Time, my past and present merge and move together; my pull towards moss and mushrooms, and my interest in water, are more than a ‘like’ or form of regulation or sensory relief, they feel like I am becoming more attuned to something deeper and more essential, something I can only describe as parts of my soul recognising what they actually belong to.

    The elements in your body right now came into being through some of the most violent events in the universe. The iron in your blood, the calcium in your bones, the oxygen in every breath, were forged in the cores of massive stars and released in supernovae: entire stars compressing their whole lives into a single catastrophic release. In that rupture, what had been locked inside was scattered outward, making things possible that could never have existed before.

    Animated square graphic with a glowing purple, pink, and teal orb slowly morphing and rotating against a star-filled galaxy background. White text reads: “The Star Stuff Of Being Autistic.” Below: “The Cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the Universe to know itself — in every color, key, and frequency of neurodiversity.” Stimpunks and Autistic Realms Logos appear in the lower corners.

    Many of us, as neurodivergent people and from marginalised communities, may know something about transformation through rupture, about how the most difficult passages of burnout and exclusion can forge something that simply could not have existed any other way. As I have written, these periods of burnout seem to change me at my core. I never fully recover; the deepest burnouts feel like a seismic shift has taken place. My whole sensory system and way of relating to the world transforms.

    For Autistic people, the idea of a fixed, bounded, separate self may sit uneasily, we are always in flow, always fluid and always responsive to everything around us. The theory of Monotropism developed by Murray, Lesser, and Lawson (2005) may help explain this. It describes the way Autistic (and may be ADHD/ AuDHD) attention tends to move in deep, singular currents rather than spreading across many channels at once. It is a different way of connecting: like matter drawn into a stellar core, our attention concentrates and transforms, and, like the star, what forms in that depth eventually moves outward and can expand, making new connections and new ways of being.

    Ethodiversity is a concept that feels important here. Originally coined by Cordero-Rivera (2017) in ecology and evolutionary science, and developed by Tarragnat (2025) into a framework for thinking about human and nonhuman life together, it refers to the full range of behavioural and existential ways of being across species, not just neurological difference, but the diversity of how living beings sense, connect, relate, move through, and respond to the world. As Autistic people, our particular way of being is shaped by, and in turn shapes, everything around us, perhaps more intensely for some than others. We are not separate from the wider pattern of the cosmos; we are very much a part of how the pattern moves, interdependent on each other and everything around us.

    For many Autistic people, this deep attunement to the world, to its textures, its moods, its patterns may be felt intensely. However, it is so often misread, pathologised, or masked out of our existence simply to fit into spaces that were not built for us. When we are in environments where we feel genuinely safe, something can shift. We are able to be our full selves, more open, more present to what the world is actually offering us —the things that bring us comfort, joy, and we can meet them on our own terms. That is what a real connection actually feels like, and we deserve spaces where it’s possible.

    That sense of belonging and connection can ripple outwards. adrienne maree brown writes in Emergent Strategy (2017) that small patterns replicate into large ones, that the local and the cosmic are always doing the same thing at different scales. She centres the people that dominant systems have tried to cast as anomalies, Black, disabled, neurodivergent, queer, poor and names what many of us may already sense: that what looks like deviation is often a more honest expression of how complex living systems actually work. Emergence doesn’t need conformity; it needs difference. A universe that could only produce one kind of star would not have produced us or our world as we know it.

    We are all made of stardust, and our entanglement, our porousness, our deep attunement to the world and cosmos around us are things we should all embrace, regardless of any labels or diagnoses we may or may not have.

    Stimpunks, whose work on star stuff has been part of the thinking woven through this piece and through our collaborative work sums it up nicely:



    The cosmos is within us, and we are a way for the universe to know itself — in every colour, key, and frequency of neurodiversity

    LYSS: https://stimpunks.org/star-stuff/



    “What more do you want?
    The ingredients in our bodies have been assembled in the hearts of long-dead stars over billions of years and have assembled themselves into temporary structures that can think and explore…”
    Brian Cox





    References



    American Museum of Natural History. (n.d.). We are stardust. https://www.amnh.org/exhibitions/permanent/the-universe/stars/a-spectacular-stellar-finale/we-are-stardust

    Boren, R. Stimpunks Foundation. (2026). Love you down to your star stuff. https://stimpunks.org/star-stuff/

    brown, a. m. (2017). Emergent strategy: Shaping change, changing worlds. AK Press.

    Cordero-Rivera, A. (2017). Behavioral diversity (ethodiversity): A neglected level in the study of biodiversity. Frontiers in Ecology and Evolution, 5, Article 7. https://doi.org/10.3389/fevo.2017.00007

    Howell, E. (2017, January 10). Humans really are made of stardust, and a new study proves it. Space.com. https://www.space.com/35276-humans-made-of-stardust-galaxy-life-elements.html

    Murray, D., Lesser, M., & Lawson, W. (2005). Attention, monotropism and the diagnostic criteria for autism. Autism, 9(2), 139–156. https://doi.org/10.1177/1362361305051398

    Tarragnat, O. (2025, February 25). What is ethodiversity? https://ombretarragnat.com/2025/02/25/what-is-ethodiversity/

  • When the Ecology Fractures: Monotropism and Autistic Burnout (Part 2)

    When the Ecology Fractures: Monotropism and Autistic Burnout (Part 2)

    Part 1 : Re-worlding Neurodiversity: Monotropism, Ecological Belonging and Neuroqueer Futures

    Part 3: Autistic Burnout Recovery as Ecological Re-assembly

    In my previous blog, we explored how monotropic attention can create deep rhizomatic pathways of learning and belonging, and how mycelial networks of care help sustain neurodivergent lives.

    But what happens when these pathways become blocked?
    What happens when the networks that once supported us begin to strain or collapse? Or we don’t have the support networks there to begin with?

    Many Autistic people describe burnout not only as exhaustion, but as a more fundamental disruption, a loss of flow, safety, and connection, a seismic shift that transforms our entire way of being.

    Burnout is not simply “doing too much.” It can feel like the ground of our known experience itself has shifted and fallen through the cracks.


    Burnout as a fracture in relational life

    Burnout often unfolds gradually, and the buildup may go unnoticed for some of us; we may suddenly find ourselves in the depths, drowning. Attention may become harder to sustain. Sensory tolerance may narrow, social interaction and communication may feel increasingly effortful. Activities that once brought joy may feel distant or even unreachable.

    The body may signal distress through meltdowns, shutdowns, pain, disruptions in sleep and eating patterns, or even difficulty initiating movement beyond wanting to curl up under a weight blanket in bed.

    Time can feel slowed, fragmented, or just utterly overwhelming and confusing as it isn’t lining up with the neuronormative expectations of the world around us. These experiences are not isolated symptoms. They are signs that the flow between body, attention, our relationships, and the wider environment is under strain.

    Rather than viewing burnout as a personal deficit, it can be understood as a fracture within a wider relational ecology.

    When environments demand constant masking, rapid task-switching, or sensory endurance, the deep attentional flows that support our ability to engage in life can begin to fracture.




    The disruption of monotropic flow

    Illustrated ecological scene showing autistic burnout as a cracked landscape with exposed roots and glowing fractures. Sensory objects like headphones, books, tea and a blanket sit near a broken ground labelled “flow disruption,” symbolising loss of attention, safety and connection.

    For many Autistic/ ADHD people, interests are more than hobbies. They are passions that provide structure, regulation, identity, and meaning. Burnout may involve losing access to these sustaining pathways and flow states.

    A person who once found comfort in researching Tudor history, coding, drawing, gaming, building collections, or walking familiar woodland routes may suddenly feel unable to engage. Attention slips away, motivation may feel brittle, and even small tasks can require more effort and capacity than we actually have available.

    This disruption can feel frightening and disorientating. Without stable attentional anchors, the world may become unpredictable and difficult to navigate. Burnout is therefore not only physical or emotional fatigue. It can be experienced as a collapse in the ecology of attention. We need to re-map and re-world our lives to navigate through burnout.


    Social and sensory worlds under pressure

    Burnout is socio-political and also emerges within overwhelming sensory contexts of the very spaces we need to live in to exist – our homes, education and work place settings and even in healthcare, the very places that are meant to understand and support us.

    Open-plan noisy offices, bright, busy classrooms, bureaucratic systems, and performance-driven cultures can create chronic friction with our neurdivergent monotropic flow states. Over time, the effort required to adapt may exceed our available energy.

    Masking, consciously or unconsciously adjusting behaviour and communication to meet normative expectations, can intensify this strain.

    The cost is often cumulative and can run deep.

    Many people describe reaching a point where:

    • communication becomes difficult
    • noise, scents, lights, certain textures and even previously safe food may feel physically painful or overwhelming
    • decision-making may slow down in a fog
    • everyday routines and exectutive functioning tasks may feel too overwhelming
    • trust in our environments and relationships with others can begin to diminish

    These are not signs of personal weakness. They are signals that the relational conditions and environments supporting us have become unsustainable. Things need to change for us to survive.


    Neuroqueer politics of burnout

    Understanding Autistic or neurodivergent burnout in ecological terms shifts responsibility away from individuals and toward systems.

    Speed, productivity, and independence are often treated as neutral values. In reality, they reflect specific cultural priorities that privilege certain cognitive styles while marginalising others.

    Neuroqueer perspectives invite us to question these assumptions.
    They ask:

    • Who defines what counts as functioning?
    • Who has the power to say what rest should look like?
    • Whose attentional rhythms are recognised as valid?
    • What forms of participation and engagement with the world are made possible or impossible?

    Autistic burnout can be read as both a social, political, and personal phenomenon. It exposes the limits of environments organised around normativity.

    Recognising this does not remove the pain of burnout, but it may help to reduce shame and open space for collective change.


    Toward ecological re-assembly

    If burnout represents fracture, our recovery is not just restoration of previous capacity; it is often a process of re-assembling life differently.

    This may begin with small shifts:

    • lowering demands
    • re-establishing sensory safety
    • reconnecting with trusted people
    • returning gently to meaningful interests or finding new glimmer of joy
    • allowing time to move, communicate and experience the world at a slower pace

    These changes can feel minor, yet they may help re-imagine and re-build the conditions and environments that allow attention and participation to re-emerge.

    Recovery is rarely linear. It unfolds through experimentation, adaptation, and relational support.

    In this sense, burnout can become a liminal threshold, not only of loss, but of potential transformation to new ways of being and relating.


    Find out more:


    Part 3: Autistic Burnout Recovery as ecological re-assembly

    In the next blog, we will explore what recovery can look like when approached as a process of ecological rebuilding rather than individual fixing.

    We will consider:

    • how sensory and attentional environments can be reshaped
    • how communities can function as mycelial support networks
    • how new rhythms of participation can emerge
    • how re-worlding can begin in everyday practices

    When the ecology fractures, survival is not the only possibility; new forms of life can take root.


    Further Reading



    Chapman, R. (2023). Empire of normality: Neurodiversity and Capitalism. Pluto Press (UK).

    Deleuze, G., & Guattari, F. (1987). A thousand plateaus: Capitalism and schizophrenia. University of Minnesota Press.

    Deligny, F. (2013). The Arachnean and other texts. Univocal.

    Edgar, H. (2026). The autistic rhizome: Community, liminal spaces & belonging. https://autisticrealms.com/the-autistic-rhizome-community-liminal-spaces-belonging/

    Gray-Hammond, D. (2025). Mental health as an ecosystemic process. NeuroHub Community.

    https://neurohubcommunity.org/2025/12/21/mental-health-ecosystemic-model

    hooks, b. (1984). Feminist theory: From margin to center (Chap. 2). South End Press.

    Lorde, A. (1977). The transformation of silence into language and action. In Sister outsider: Essays and speeches (pp. 40–44). Crossing Press.

    Manning, E. (2016). The minor gesture. Duke University Press.

    Milton, D. E. M. (2013). ‘Clumps’: An autistic reterritorialisation of the rhizome.

    Sins Invalid https://sinsinvalid.org

    Stimpunks https://stimpunks.org/

    Tarragnat, O. (2025). What is ethodiversity? https://ombretarragnat.com/2025/02/25/what-is-ethodiversity/

    Walker, N. (2021). Neuroqueer heresies: Notes on the neurodiversity paradigm, autistic empowerment, and postnormal possibilities. Autonomous Press.