Living alone, I'd just have spent this weekend doing nothing, with no sensory input that I can't control. I wouldn't even have noticed there was a problem.
The way it is, overstimulated as I am from a full-day workshop and long car commute on Thursday and with no way to calm my senses through Friday, I'm sitting at the breakfast table, crying from overwhelm. My husband was making bread (loud machine!) and de-cluttering the kitchen (loud visuals) when I came downstairs to eat, and it pushed me over the edge. Even the birdsong outside the window is too much right now.
At times like these, I feel genuinely disabled by being autistic.
