Boat analogy for autism and autistic burnout

I created a boat-and-lifesaver analogy for the autistic life experience, autistic burnout, masking and microaggressions.

Growing up autistic without supports is like having to swim from one shore to another while everyone else is on a boat.

Autistic burnout is like being anywhere in the body of water and trying to reach shore, but you don’t have the energy to swim anymore because you’ve been swimming all this time.

By this point, you’re swimming enough to stay above water.

The people on the boat are watching you struggle and saying, “Come on! You can do it! Just keep swimming! Come on! Come on already!”

They’re on a boat.

You ask them to throw you a lifesaver, and they decline because they didn’t get to the boat by being thrown lifesavers, so why should you?

How is it fair for you to have a lifesaver when they never needed one, because they started on the boat?

They didn’t need a lifesaver to get on the boat, so why should you?

How is that fair?

How is it fair when other people have to swim as well?

Instead of being thrown the lifesaver, you’re focused on staying above water rather than swimming to shore.

Autistic burnout dips into depression when you start to run out of energy to stay above water — because you need a lifesaver, but they’re not sending it.

There is no lifesaver coming, so there is no point in hoping for it.

You can hope that at least one person will be decent and throw you a lifesaver, but it doesn’t matter.

You learn you can’t depend on other people, because you realize you were never one of them.

They are boat people, and you are not a boat person.

You start to sink, because you can’t keep yourself afloat anymore.

That’s when they finally send you the lifesaver, saying, “Come on! It’s okay!” and they help you and give you what you need — because they understand drowning.

They want to fix the drowning, but not the events that led to you drowning in the first place.

Even though you’re not a boat person, even though they watched you swim all this way proving that you are not a boat person — they still want you to be a boat person, to pretend to be a boat person, to act like a boat person.

Because if you just acted like a boat person long enough, maybe you would actually become one.

But boat people are boat people, and non-boat people are never boat people.

Non-autistic people will never be autistic people.

Autistic people will never be non-autistic.

Dissecting it

Okay, not everyone is good at recognizing things, so here is the analogy taken apart and explained piece by piece.

Growing up autistic without supports is like having to swim from one shore to another while everyone else is on a boat.

This covers undiagnosed autistics in one fell swoop, meaning they’re not on the boat even if they think they are. 👀

You also have to learn how to swim, whereas those on the boat never had to — or at least, they don’t think consciously about being on the boat in the first place. They simply were.

You can apply this to eye contact; autistic people often have to think about how they’re making eye contact, whereas allistics don’t think about it or have that kind of awareness.

Autistic burnout is like being anywhere in the body of water and trying to reach shore, but you don’t have the energy to swim anymore because you’ve been swimming all this time.

Autistic burnout has entered the chat. It’s exhausting.

The people on the boat are watching you struggle and saying, “Come on! You can do it! Just keep swimming! Come on! Come on already!”

Microaggressions are like subtle disses that further discriminate against and isolate you based on that which marginalizes you in society.

For disabled and autistic people, that can look like cheering you on and encouraging you to do something you literally can’t do, then incredulously asking as to why you can’t exactly do that thing. 👀

They didn’t need a lifesaver to get on the boat, so why should you?

While this is still microaggression territory, it’s also the double empathy problem:

• Boat people didn’t struggle to get on the boat.
• Boat people want you on the boat.
• Boat people think you’re not trying hard enough to get on the boat.
• Boat people do not empathize with your struggle as a person in the water and don’t understand why you’re “making life so hard on yourself” when all you have to do is listen to them.

How is that fair?

Again, still a microaggression, but let’s discuss! Able-bodied people favor equality over equity, thinking the two are one and the same when they actually mean two different things.

Equality is about everyone having the same things, but that actually isn’t fair because people have different needs.

Equity allows everyone to experience the same thing with their unique needs being met.

They want to fix the drowning, but not the events that led to you drowning in the first place.

Non-autistic people look at autistic people struggling as things caused by their autism more than how society could have caused those struggles.

Autistic burnout is perceived as “autistic depression” rather than the aftermath of an autistic person exhausting their bodies trying to keep up with daily demands of neurotypical standards.

In my experience, non-autistic people in my life sought to resolve all my symptoms without treating the cause — or acknowledging their role in my struggles to cope with stress.

I was misdiagnosed with a few things before being diagnosed autistic with autistic burnout, and that prevented me from learning how to care for and accommodate myself.

Because if you just acted like a boat person long enough, maybe you would actually become one.

This directly addresses masking.

Non-autistic people tend to ask why masking is “so bad” for autistic people when “everyone pretends to an extent”, as reason for autistic people to continue masking.

I honestly lack the spoons to explain it, but perhaps someone else might in the comments. 👇

How do you feel about the boat analogy?