For the longest time, I thought I was doing mindfulness wrong. I thought it meant a seated meditation for 30 minutes. I couldn’t even make it to three minutes without feeling agitated. My busy autistic brain made it impossible for me to relax. If anything, my inner critic kept yelling at me for not being Zen enough.
Eventually, I stopped trying to force myself to be mindful. Ever since my childhood, coercion had taken up far too much of my life. I wasn’t going to do that to myself, even if forcing myself through things was my default. When I was little, my neurotype was not recognised, and it was not supported.
Now that I’m an adult, I’m learning to recognise my needs and find ways to meet them. Instead of ironically white-knuckling my way into mindfulness, I’ve been leaning into curiosity and playfulness.
It became clear that movement – not stillness – helps calm me
I ask myself – what kind of mindfulness feels right for me? What actually feels joyful and calming? What helps me feel better? It became clear over time that movement – not stillness – helps to calm me. Movement meditation of any kind, especially in nature, is incredibly soothing for me. It could be something as simple as going on a walk outside, especially in the cool, quiet mornings. Doing a yoga stretch indoors is another way for me to move mindfully, especially when I don’t have the energy to walk outside.
Best of all, when I slow down enough to concentrate during my five daily prayers, they’re my in-built form of mindfulness.
The kinds of sit-down-and-be-still mindfulness exercises for neurotypical brains do not suit me. I still shudder at the thought of a terrible exercise I had to endure at a mindfulness retreat I once attended before I realised I was autistic – I had to stare into the eyes of a complete stranger. It felt like staring straight into the sun. I didn’t know then what I know now. I could have chosen to not participate, and walk away. This does not make me defective. It makes me different.
Mindfulness means returning myself to the present moment, and to feel safe in my body. When I was little, it was unsafe for me to stay still. I had to shrink myself to stay safe. I had to dodge and weave, to morph myself into forms that were pleasing to the powerful adults around me. My body and family home were not safe spaces for me to live when I was a child.
Now that I’m an adult, I am still learning how to recognise safety in my body. Mindfulness is a way into somatic safety, but only when done gently.
Instead of sitting in agonising silence, listening to guided meditations has been very grounding for me
Instead of sitting in agonising silence, listening to guided meditations has been very grounding for me. Paying attention to the script gives my busy brain something to focus on until I eventually relax. I prefer soft, female voices with minimal to no background music.
For me, one of the most restorative forms of mindfulness is when I’m in a state of flow. That happens when I’m deeply immersed in my special interest, such as working on my latest article, or a new book.
Mindfulness for me also comes in the form of playing with my daughters. Genuinely sinking into their love and being part of their play brings me so much presence and joy. Bluey has given us wonderful ideas. I join them when they go cycling, or when they fly their kites. Just giving myself permission to be in the moment with my daughters helps me relax.
Genuinely sinking into my daughters’ love and being part of their play brings me so much presence and joy
Life can feel nonstop for parents, especially autistic parents. It certainly does feel that way for me. What helps me is checking in on myself every hour, and taking sensory breaks whenever I can. When I feel cooped up indoors, going out to the garden helps a lot.
One of my favourite mindfulness activities is immersing myself in the ocean. We don’t live near the beach, so this is more a treat when we go away for a family holiday. I love the sensory immersion of the ocean. The joy of floating in the water and riding the waves helps me forget, for a little while, the daily discomforts that are part and parcel of my autistic experience. I am so anchored when I am in the water.
Finding pockets of peace is different for everyone. I encourage you to be curious and find what works for you. Are you more of a morning person? Then maybe an early morning walk could be your pathway into mindfulness. If the thought of getting up early and walking outdoors is not your cup of tea, then maybe an evening walk would suit you better. If going outdoors feels like too much of a sensory nightmare, then there’s a whole array of indoor sensory activities that could help you self-soothe.
Finding pockets of peace is different for everyone. I encourage you to be curious and find what works for you
Engaging all my senses helps me. Breathing in the scent of rose, applying my favourite citrus-scented hand lotion, listening to the tinkle of wind chimes and sipping on chamomile tea are some ways for me to feel calmer in the present moment.
As much as I would love to go to the ocean more often, it’s a luxury I can’t afford. Sometimes listening to the sound of waves on my phone is the next best thing. My body is in the process of learning safety, one mindful sip of chamomile tea at a time.
*Author’s real name is not used.
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