Picture this: You’ve just spent an evening at a crowded party. The music was loud, the lights were harsh, and the small talk was endless. You wake up the next morning, and instead of feeling refreshed, you feel like your brain is wrapped in cotton, your body is dragging, and your nerves are frayed.
That’s a sensory hangover.
For autistic people like me, it’s not just a metaphor. It’s a very real, physical and mental crash caused by sensory overload.
What Is a Sensory Hangover?
A sensory hangover happens when your brain has been pushed past its limit trying to process too much input. For me, it’s like my nervous system has been on a treadmill set to maximum speed—and the only way off is to crash.
How It Feels
- Physical Fatigue: My limbs feel heavy, like I’ve been carrying weights all day.
- Mental Fog: Concentration becomes impossible. Even answering a simple text feels like climbing a mountain.
- Emotional Sensitivity: I’m irritable, prone to tears, and overwhelmed by even minor inconveniences.
- Sensory Residue: Noises seem louder, lights seem brighter, and everything feels like it’s attacking my senses.
A Sensory Hangover Story
A few months ago, I attended a wedding. It was beautiful—the kind of event that’s worth every bit of effort—but it was also a sensory minefield.
The clinking of glasses during the toasts, the flashing lights on the dance floor, the constant buzz of conversation—I could feel my energy draining hour by hour.
By the time I got home, I was beyond exhausted. The next morning, I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. My head was pounding, my body ached, and the thought of stepping outside felt impossible.
It took me three full days to feel like myself again.
How I Survive a Sensory Hangover
- Go Low-Stimulation: I turn off the lights, close the curtains, and create a cocoon of calm.
- Use Comfort Items: My weighted blanket, noise-canceling headphones, and lavender-scented pillow spray are my go-to tools.
- Hydrate and Nourish: It sounds simple, but drinking water and eating easy-to-digest foods helps reset my system.
- Limit Demands: I clear my schedule, silence my phone, and give myself permission to just exist.
- Ground Myself: Whether it’s holding an ice pack, running my hands over a soft blanket, or focusing on my breathing, grounding techniques help me reconnect with my body.
What I Wish People Knew
- It’s Not Laziness: When I’m recovering from a sensory hangover, I’m not “being lazy.” I’m healing.
- It’s Not Just About Noise: Sensory overload can come from social interactions, bright lights, strong smells, or even uncomfortable clothing.
- It’s Preventable: With the right accommodations, I can avoid sensory hangovers—or at least minimize their impact.
Visual Snapshot
I’m sitting in my favorite armchair, wrapped in my weighted blanket. The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a salt lamp. My noise-canceling headphones play gentle white noise, and a cup of chamomile tea sits on the table beside me.
Outside, the world continues its usual chaos, but in this moment, I’ve created a bubble of calm—a safe space to recover.
FAQ
Q: Can sensory hangovers happen to neurotypical people?
A: While sensory hangovers are most common in autistic individuals, neurotypical people can experience similar feelings after intense sensory or emotional events.
Q: How can I support someone with a sensory hangover?
A: Respect their need for quiet and rest. Offer comfort items, like a soft blanket or a warm drink, and avoid pushing them to socialize or be productive.
Q: Can sensory hangovers be avoided?
A: Not always, but planning ahead—like bringing noise-canceling headphones or taking breaks during high-stimulation events—can help reduce their severity.
Final Thoughts
Sensory hangovers aren’t just a quirk of being autistic—they’re a reminder of how deeply our environments affect us.
If you’ve ever felt like the world was too much, know that it’s okay to retreat, recharge, and take care of yourself. Recovery isn’t selfish; it’s necessary.
And if you need me, you’ll find me here—wrapped in my blanket, sipping tea, and letting the world spin without me for a while.
