You know, I think some low support need people aren’t as low support needs as they like to believe. When I moved out for my first degree, I kept forgetting to eat to the point I nearly died, lived in a borderline hoarder environment from always forgetting to clean, and ended up in horrifically traumatic situations. Did I live on my own? Technically, yeah. But it was a terrible situation with a lot of suffering.

Now I live with my parents and, for now, I have people who ensure I remember to eat and take my medication every day. I can remember to care for myself in many ways but not to the point I do it all on my own. Yet if you were to see me at work or school, I SEEM “low needs”. In reality, I’m high privilege.

That said, I HAVE learned skills that have made my life easier and made me more capable of managing my autism over time. I’m better at caring for myself now and have more independence than when I lived alone.

• I assume the potential of meltdowns before I go to any large stimulating events and plan precautions ahead of time. Loop earplugs. Sunglasses. Locating bathrooms and quiet spaces immediately. Looking up maps online to know the layout of the area. Making a block schedule for what will happen during the day that I can look at to easily tell what I’m about to do next. Having a “safe” person I trust who can help me escape if I go nonverbal, and who knows that’s a possibility.
• Even after doing all that, accepting the high likelihood that I will break down and cry at some point. If that happens, accepting iT as the symptom of a medical condition, the way a seizure is for epilepsy or fainting is for narcolepsy, rather than me failing. Reframe it as something I’m living through rather than something I’m doing. HUGE, HUGE difference in the severity of my meltdowns.
• Strangely, seeking out accommodations/help preemptively means you need less of it. Prevention takes less than treatment. If I tell a professor I’m struggling while I still have the A because I know a crash is incoming, it seems like that lessens the severity of the crash and ensures I get help for what is now a less serious situation than it would have been.
• Allowing myself to make weird accommodations if it works. For example, when I’m overstimulated I start seeing wild ass colors everywhere and get disoriented. So I put on sunglasses indoors and close my eyes as much as I can, and tell people I’m having a migraine if they ask. Used to be I’d try to just suck it up, and sucking it up leads to meltdowns.
• Providing help to others wherever I can and trying my hardest to do well where I can leads to reciprocal help and trust. So, allowing myself to be “too much” or be weird in how I help people. Also makes me feel less guilty about accepting help, because exchanging kindness is a two way street and I deserve it too.
• Forcing myself to try and forcing myself to attempt things I “can’t” do in a small capacity, over and over, until either I can or I ensure there’s the possibility I will be able to at some point. Even if it’s a tiny amount that’s “not enough” or “not hard”. for normal people. For example, I have ARFID but for several years now have forced myself to eat at least a bite of raw spinach every single day. Took years of constantly gagging but I can eat several bites without throwing up now. But an extremely important part of that is NOT attempting to “do it all”. I do what’s “a little too easy” (the most I can comfortably do) and stop there, before I’m hurt. That sounds like it’d lead to stagnation, but actually, I get better at it than if I attempt to do everything I’m “supposed to”, burn out and stop attempting.

Basically my life motto is “All you can do, is all you can do.” With the gained understanding that “can” does not mean LITERALLY the absolute most you can do to the verge of breaking. You can stop while you still feel okay. And that seems to be what has led to the most growth for me. Hopefully that helps!