# 49 - AuDHD & the Back-to-School Avalanche: When Peace Ends All at Once

For many educators, the beginning of the school year brings excitement. For autistic, ADHD, and AuDHD teachers, it can feel like being flung from months of hard-earned peace into instant chaos.

In this episode, Dr. Allison Sucamele explores the psychology behind why back-to-school season can overwhelm the neurodivergent nervous system. From cognitive load, executive functioning, and decision fatigue to sensory overload, masking, context switching, and autistic burnout, you'll learn why the avalanche of meetings, trainings, insurance enrollment, classroom setup, and endless decisions can leave you exhausted before students even arrive.

More importantly, this episode offers research-informed strategies for protecting your nervous system, reducing unnecessary demands, and approaching the school year with greater self-compassion. If you're sitting in your classroom surrounded by unopened boxes, unfinished bulletin boards, and an overflowing inbox, this conversation is your reminder that your overwhelm isn't a personal failure—it's a human response to extraordinary demands.

Whether you're an educator or anyone navigating major life transitions, this episode will help you understand why regulation—not perfection—is the foundation for sustainable success.

Disclaimer
Quietly Autistic at Last is for educational and informational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional medical, psychological, or mental health care. Every autistic, ADHD, and AuDHD experience is unique, and the perspectives shared in this podcast reflect research as well as lived experience.

Need Immediate Support?
If you are in the United States and experiencing a mental health crisis or having thoughts of suicide, call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. If you are outside the U.S., please contact your local emergency services or crisis hotline.

Resources
• Kristen Neff – Self-Compassion Research & Resources: Kristen Neff, Ph.D.
• Follow Quietly Autistic at Last Podcast on Instagram for episode updates, resources, and community: @quietlyautisticatlastpodcast

Transcript

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Welcome back to Quietly Autistic at Last, the podcast where we explore autism, ADHD, Aud, and what it really means to move through a world that wasn't designed with our nervous systems in mind. I'm your host, Dr. Allison Sukamelli. And if you're listening to this episode as a teacher, or honestly anyone who works in education, you probably know exactly what time of year this is. The beginning of the school year. For many people, it's exciting. Fresh starts, new planners, brand new supplies, a clean classroom. But for many autistic ADHD and Audators, it feels like standing peacefully beside a quiet lake, and then suddenly someone opens the floodgates of a dam. There isn't a gradual return. It's everything all at once. The classroom, the meetings, professional development, insurance enrollment, mandatory online trainings, technology updates, changing schedules, learning hundreds of names, preparing curriculum, decorating classrooms, emails arriving faster than you can answer them, and somewhere inside all of that, you're expected to magically become emotionally available for 180 students. And today I want to talk about why this happens psychologically, why it feels so overwhelming for Audi HD educators, and why your nervous system isn't failing. It's responding exactly the way it was designed to. But before we begin, a kind reminder that everything discussed today is for educational purposes only and should never replace individualized medical or mental health care. And if today's conversation brings up difficult emotions, please reach out to someone you trust or a licensed mental health professional. And if you're in the United States and experiencing a mental health crisis, call or text 988. Okay, let's get into this week's episode. So here's something I noticed this year. Summer has momentum. You finally begin waking naturally, your body starts choosing its own rhythm. Your nervous system slowly uncurls. Meals become slower. Silence becomes familiar again. The constant decision making decreases. And many autistic people don't even realize how much recovery they're doing until they're finally allowed to stop performing. Then August arrives. And it doesn't ask politely, it crashes through the front door. And the beginning of the school year isn't stressful because there are many tasks. It's stressful because they're all introduced simultaneously. And psychologists call this cognitive load. Working memory has limits, executive functioning has limits, decision fatigue has limits. And now imagine someone saying, today we'd like you to reorganize an entire room, attend six hours of meetings, remember 20 new passwords, learn a new grading platform, complete 12 compliance trainings, update emergency procedures, read hundreds of emails, choose insurance plans, sign legal documents, remember everyone's names, prepare lessons, collaborate with departments, socialize with coworkers before students even arrive. It's no wonder people feel exhausted before school even starts. But Audes the equation. Now let's add in autism. Every meeting contains social processing. Every new routine requires adaptation. Every unexpected announcement forces rapid cognitive flexibility. Every noisy room increases sensory processing. Every hallway conversation requires masking. Now let's add ADHD. Multiple deadlines, interrupted tasks, novelty everywhere, prioritization difficulties, working memory demands, time blindness, task switching. Autism wants predictability. ADHD thrives on novelty. And the first week of school gives you nothing but novelty, but also demands immediate organization, and both neurotypes become overloaded simultaneously. And research consistently shows that switching between tasks carries a mental cost. For Audi HD brains, that cost is often even greater. Think about one morning you're setting up your classroom, someone interrupts. Now it's a staff meeting, meeting ends, insurance presentation, someone asks you a question, back to decorating, the phone rings, there's a fire drill, email, technology update, online compliance training, there's a principal announcement, another meeting, someone needs copies, then there's lunch, there's department collaboration, return to the room, students are visiting, there's another email. Every interruption requires your brain to rebuild where it was. And eventually, your brain simply runs out of rebuilding energy. And teachers make thousands of decisions every day. Before students even arrive, you're already deciding where should this desk go? Which bulletin board should I set up? Which seating chart should I use? What should I do for the first day activity? Should I print this out or make it an electronic assignment? Should I email parents? Should I answer this message now? Should I complete the trainings? Should I finish the classroom first? Insurance, I have to sign up for a meeting. I have to pick the plan. Am I using the same plan? Will I be able to keep my same PCP? Technology, new passwords, new platforms, upload this, download this, emergency folders. And none of these are insignificant. They of course all matter, but your brain starts treating every decision like an emergency. And here's something people often overlook. Open enrollment sounds administrative, but psychologically it's filled with uncertainty. Which plan? What if something changes? What if I choose wrong? What about prescriptions? Vision, dental, family coverage, financial implications, decision after decision after decision. And again, it's all happening at the beginning of the school year, all at once, usually with a three-day window. And each one, each decision draws from the exact same executive functioning resources already being used everywhere else. And someone without executive functioning differences might think this stuff only takes 30 minutes, but that's rarely what happens. You try to log in, your password has expired, there's a verification code, the browser's incompatible, the video won't load, or it restarts you, there's a quiz, there's documentation, there's another module, another survey, another confirmation page. Tiny frustrations accumulate. And psychologists sometimes call these micro stressors. One isn't overwhelming, but a hundred are, especially when it's happening all at once. And summer often gives autistic adults something rare. Reduced masking, then suddenly self-development begins. Icebreakers, group discussions, team building activities, collaborative planning, lunch with colleagues, professional conversations, meeting new staff, reading new administrators, interpreting social expectations, maintaining facial expressions, monitoring body language, responding quickly, smiling, eye contact, listening, processing, speaking, repeating, even positive social interaction consumes cognitive resources. And that's not being antisocial, that's neuroscience. And for many autistic teachers, the classroom becomes a regulated environment. Everything has a purpose. Desk placement, lighting, traffic flow, visual organization, sound, calm, predictability. When your classroom isn't ready, your nervous system often isn't ready either. Because your environment helps regulate your brain. Creating your classroom isn't just decorating, it's building a nervous system support system. And here's something I don't hear discussed enough. There's grief. Not because summer ended, but because recovery ended. You finally found your rhythm, maybe just barely. Then overnight, it's gone. And that transition deserves acknowledgement. You're not grieving vacation, you're grieving regulation. And many teachers say I shouldn't feel overwhelmed. But why? Imagine asking someone to sprint immediately after waking from surgery. No one would expect that. Yet we ask educators, especially neurodivergent educators, to move from deep recovery directly into maximum output. There's no transition, this comes without decompression, without gradual exposure, and that's psychologically unrealistic. And researchers studying autistic burnout describes something important. Burnout isn't simply exhaustion, it's the prolonged mismatch between demands and available resources. And the beginning of the school year often recreates exactly those conditions. High demands, low recovery, constant masking, little control. Many autistic educators enter the school year already spending tomorrow's energy. So what may actually help? It's not perfection, it's regulation. Can you simplify one decision? Can one bulletin board remain unfinished? Can one email wait? Can you eat lunch somewhere quieter? I usually bring a lunch on the first few days without students and eat alone in my classroom to decompress from being flung into overstimulation. And my coworkers scramble to go out to lunch, they often fight about where to go and struggle to get back on time, which a lot of them usually don't. And that doesn't seem worth it to me. And other helpful things you can ask yourself: can you wear sensory-friendly clothing? Can headphones help while setting up? Can lighting be softened? Can routines begin before students arrive? And can you remember finished is often better than perfect? And Christine Neff's research on self-compassion consistently shows benefits for resilience, emotional regulation, and recovery. Instead of saying, I'm already behind, try saying to yourself, this is a tremendous amount for one nervous system. And notice the difference. One creates shame, the other creates understanding. And here's the good news. Eventually the avalanche stops. Well, sometimes and hopefully. Students settle in, routines emerge, hallways become familiar, the classroom begins feeling like yours again. Names become recognizable, and procedures become automatic. The overwhelming beginning gradually transforms into rhythm, hopefully. And your nervous system starts predicting what's next. And predictability returns. And with predictability, many Aud educators begin thriving again. So if you're listening while sitting in your classroom, surrounded by unopened boxes, unfinished bulletin boards, computer cords, half-completed lesson plans, and an inbox that seems impossible, I want you to remember something. Your overwhelm is not evidence that you're incapable. It's evidence that your brain is processing an extraordinary number of demands simultaneously. The beginning of the school year asks teachers to become administrators, event planners, interior designers, technology specialists, insurance analysts, counselors, curriculum developers, students, and educators all before the first bell rings. And that's a remarkable cognitive load for anyone. For an Audus system, it can feel like being flung from deep peace into instant chaos. And if that's where you are today, you're not alone. Your brain isn't broken, it simply deserves the same compassion you so freely give to your students. So this week, consider writing down or reflecting about these questions. Which back to school tasks drain me the most, and which actually energize me? What signs tell me my nervous system is becoming overloaded? What routines or environmental changes help me feel more grounded? Which expectations am I placing on myself that I could gently loosen? And if I treated myself with the same compassion I offer my students, what would I do differently this week? Okay, so there you have it. If this episode resonated with you, I'd love for you to share it with another educator who may be quietly carrying the same invisible weight. And you can find Quietly Autistic at last wherever you listen to your podcast. And until next time, this is Dr. Allison Sukamelli. Remember, the goal isn't to survive the school year by abandoning yourself. It's to build a school year where your nervous system has a place within it. Take good care of yourself, and I'll see you next Tuesday.