Day in the Life of an Autistic Adult: Emily Beasley

Join me, Emily Beasley, as a take you through my day in the life of an Autistic adult.

I wake up at 7:30am, same as most days, to my Google Home’s alarm.

“Ok Google, what is the weather like today?” I ask as I roll out of bed. “The forecast today is 82 and partly cloudy.” I bend down and slide the lock of my dog’s crate, “Ok Google, do I need a jacket today?”“No, it is not expected to be cold today” Google replies in its reassuring monotone voice.

While having a Google Home is not necessary, I find comfort in knowing that I can ask a machine to help me with things I would normally have to bother people about. Plus, someone can tell me all day the different temperatures, but I will still never be able to tell whether I will need a jacket.

My dog, Tucker, stretches by the foot of my bed as I shuffle to the door. After letting Tucker out and feeding him, we spend a few minutes cuddling in bed. For someone who does not like to be touched often, his soft fur is comforting.

“Ok Google, what time is it?”

“It’s 7:38”

I go to my closet, flipping through the red, yellow, green, and blue shirts to get to the black and white shirts. I grab a black and white stripped shirt and one of my two pairs of black slacks. I decide that my black shoes will match for no other reason than for being black.

In my bathroom, I get ready for the day. I have a simple routine. I braid my hair or put it in a bun because I do not like my hair touching my face. I do this first because if I do it second or last then my hands are wet and then I have to attempt to do my hair with wet hands. Next, I brush my teeth. The soft bristles tickle my gums. Rinse and spit. I grab a face cleansing wipe and scrub my face. My sister says it is bad for my skin, but this feels better than splashing water on my face. When I do that, I get a knot in my stomach and immediately feel the need to dry my face and hair until it is completely dry.

Ready for the day, I ask Google one last time, “Ok Google, what time is it?”

Google responds with “It’s 7:52.”

I take my cue and put Tucker up and head out the door.

People always ask me why I leave for work so early. It is not because I am such a hard worker or that I’m a workaholic; it’s because I hate traffic.

I drive past my job and on to the little gas station on the corner. The doors *whoosh* as I push them open, followed by a quiet jingle. Inside there are few people scattered about the gas station. I hear snippets of their conversations, “I feel a cold coming on….I can’t believe I have to….I’ll take a number 5 lottery…have a good one baby.” I get a diet coke and a small snack. I don’t bother with eye contact, even though it is polite, because it is early and I know the gas station cashiers won’t mind. I say a quick, “Have a great day,” before rushing out the door.

I get to work early, just like I like it. Usually I unlock the office around 8:30 unless someone else has beat me there. I like unlocking the office because it fills me with a sense of pride and responsibility. A sign that I work a meaningful job at a meaningful place.

After settling into my cubicle, I throw on my noise canceling headphones. Even though no one is there to be making noises, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights bothers me. The slight flicker of them as I try to concentrate makes my skin crawl. People start to trickle in and fall into their own morning routines.

I have a visual schedule in my cubicle that helps me stay on task. It reminds me that first, I log my timecard from the day before, then I check my email, then I work on my work, then I go to lunch, then I check my email, then I work on my work, and then I go home. I settle into my own routine, occasionally catching glances of people as they walk by through my mirror.

I have a mirror at my desk so that I can see when people are walking up behind me. That way I do not get startle and can come to a stopping point when people need to talk to me. Despite my noise canceling headphones, I hear the buzz of conversation of the office, “I can’t believe she…my consumer will be here at…yeah I printed…”

I make my way through the day, eventually stopping to sit for five minutes in the bathroom with the lights turned off. I sit on the cool linoleum floor and listen to the footsteps outside. I shut my eyes and take a few deep breaths. Even though I love my job it is still exhausting. I head back to my desk trying to ignore the fact that my shirt has an itchy collar.

At lunch, I sit with my lunch buddy. She has a visual disability so I don’t have to worry about eye contact. And she is good with conversations. I like that. I head back to my desk, slightly shaking my hands and making quiet, repetitive noises, an attempt to regulate my senses.

The last hours of work are always the worst. I get really tired and want to go home around 3pm. But being an adult means I can’t do that. I take a few phone calls that require a lot of concentration. Sometimes I mix up people’s words and have to ask them to repeat themselves. When five o’clock does roll around, I turn off my computer and say a polite “good-bye” and “see you tomorrow” to my coworkers as I head out.

On my way home I realize I need to stop by Aldi. Exhausted, I dread the trip. I can feel my anxiety rise as I enter the store. The conversations of people overlaps and get jumbled in my head. The *ka-thunk* of the carts as they are pushed around rings in my ears. The lights in the store burrow deep into my eye sockets, stinging. I just have to make it to the back.

My heart starts to race as people bump into me. My breathing becomes shallow as I get to the back of the store. The buzzing of the refrigerator is what finally does me in. I grab my items and practically run to the check out.

The cashier probably assumes that I am being rude when I ignore their, “how are you today?,” but truth be told, talking is not possible at this point. I feel like I am going to cry and/or explode at any given moment. I rush out to my car. Sweet solitude. I take a minute for some deep breaths and then head home.

At home, I head right to my room to drop off my things, past the “Hey Emmy” and “How was your day” of my well-meaning family. I let Tucker out and together we spend some time in my bed. By the end of each day, I am too exhausted to even eat.

I am lucky if I have enough energy to make it to the shower. When I do, I decide between a bath and a shower. The pro of the shower is that it is quick. The con is that water gets into my face. The pro of the bath is that water does not get in my face. The con is that it takes longer and more effort. How my day was, dictates which I choose.

I know my family wants me to head back into the living room to spend time with them. I do my best, but some days are just too tough. When I do settle into bed, I pick between reading more information on the Fibonacci sequence, reading one of the four books I am currently reading, and watching one of my favorite YouTubers.

It is not long before my head hits my pillow and I do the same thing all over again.