When someone invites me to a party, my brain goes into overdrive.
What should I wear? What will the lighting be like? Will there be loud music, or worse, small talk? And the biggest question of all: How do I leave without making it weird?
For most people, parties are a chance to relax and connect. For me, they feel more like a battlefield, with sensory overload and social expectations waiting to ambush me at every turn.
The Anatomy of a Party
Let me walk you through what a party feels like for me.
Step 1: The Invitation
I start overthinking the moment I’m invited. Do I say yes to be polite, or do I make up an excuse? If I say yes, how long do I have to stay? If I say no, will they think I’m rude or antisocial?
Step 2: Getting Ready
Choosing an outfit is a strategic decision. It has to be comfortable enough to handle hours of sensory input but “normal” enough not to draw attention. I settle on a soft, loose sweater and jeans—neutral, safe, and forgettable.
Step 3: Walking In
The moment I step inside, the noise hits me like a wave. Conversations overlap with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The lighting is too bright or too dim, and every smell—perfume, food, alcohol—competes for dominance.
I scan the room, looking for a quiet corner or a familiar face. My heart races, and my mind is already counting down to when I can leave.
Why Parties Are So Hard
- Sensory Overload: Bright lights, loud music, and crowded spaces are a sensory minefield for autistic people.
- Unwritten Rules: Social gatherings are full of unspoken expectations—how to greet people, when to laugh, how long to stay in a conversation. It’s like trying to solve a puzzle without knowing what the final picture looks like.
- Masking Fatigue: Pretending to be “on” for hours drains my energy faster than anything else.
A Party Disaster
I remember one office holiday party that ended in disaster.
I spent weeks psyching myself up to go, rehearsing small talk and planning my escape strategy. But when I arrived, the noise and chaos were overwhelming. I plastered on a smile and forced myself to mingle, nodding and laughing at jokes I didn’t understand.
By the time dessert was served, I was nearing a meltdown. When someone asked me a simple question—“How’s work going?”—I froze. My brain felt like a computer with too many tabs open, and I couldn’t process their words.
I mumbled something incoherent, excused myself to the bathroom, and ended up hiding there for 20 minutes, breathing deeply and trying to ground myself.
How I Handle Parties Now
Over the years, I’ve developed strategies to survive parties without losing my mind:
- Set a Time Limit: I tell myself it’s okay to leave after an hour, or even 30 minutes. Knowing there’s an end in sight makes the experience less daunting.
- Find a Quiet Spot: Whether it’s the corner of the room or the backyard, I look for a place where I can escape the chaos for a few minutes.
- Bring a Social Buffer: If possible, I go with someone who understands my needs and can help navigate the social landscape.
- Practice Self-Compassion: If I need to leave early or take a break, I remind myself it’s not a failure—it’s self-care.
What I Wish Hosts Knew
If you’re hosting a party and want to make it more inclusive, here’s how you can help:
- Offer Quiet Spaces: A separate room or outdoor area can be a lifesaver for people who need a sensory break.
- Keep the Music Low: Loud music makes it hard to hear and adds to sensory overload.
- Don’t Pressure Guests: Let people come and go as they need without making them feel guilty for leaving early.
Visual Snapshot
I’m writing this from my favorite spot on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket and sipping chamomile tea. The room is quiet except for the faint hum of my noise machine, and a candle flickers on the coffee table, casting gentle shadows on the walls.
It’s the polar opposite of a party, and that’s exactly how I like it.
FAQ
Q: Why don’t you just skip parties if they’re so stressful?
A: I often do, but sometimes attending feels necessary—whether it’s for work, family, or maintaining friendships.
Q: What’s the hardest part of a party for you?
A: The sensory overload is tough, but the social expectations are even harder. Figuring out how to interact without overstepping or withdrawing completely is a constant challenge.
Q: How can I support an autistic friend at a party?
A: Check in with them, offer to be their social buffer, and respect their decision if they need to leave early.
Final Thoughts
Parties aren’t designed for people like me, and that’s okay. I’ve learned to navigate them on my own terms—setting boundaries, taking breaks, and letting myself leave when I’ve had enough.
If you’re someone who struggles with parties, know this: it’s okay to say no, to take care of yourself, and to define your own version of fun.
And if you need me, I’ll be here, curled up in my sensory sanctuary, quietly celebrating the joy of solitude.
