When an Autistic person’s needs are framed as “a perk” they “must earn” or compete for (even though it is likely the only way they will be able to work sustainably).

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Asking Autistics: Have you ever experienced Autistic burnout? If so, what was that like for you?

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Ten years ago, when I was newly diagnosed as Autistic, I was both mentally and physically unwell.

I had burned out (or had been burned out) by an exploitative employer who treated me and my needs as a problem.

According to my employer at the time, my needs were “unreasonable” because they were things “everyone in the company would like, and it wouldn’t be fair to show me special treatment.“

I wanted to respond that “If everyone wants what I am asking for, then maybe your whole system sucks” (but, being newly identified, I hadn’t found the confidence to do so yet)… so I kept my frustration to myself and quietly started looking for a new job.

In March of 2018, I found a new, more inclusive job, one that didn’t treat my needs as a problem, and left the toxic workplace and its more traditional corporate structure to work for a company that was willing to meet me where I was.

You might be wondering to yourself right about now… “What were these ‘big asks’ that my employer had considered ‘unreasonable dealbreakers’?“

Well… since I had originally been hired as a mostly remote employee (who was only supposed to be in the office occasionally for team meetings and on special occasions), but had happily started coming in more frequently (since I had been working in a quiet office with natural light, minimal interruptions, and no fluorescent lighting before we moved to a new office that was more chaotic), I asked to go back to that original deal (to go back to working remotely, as I’d been hired to do years prior).

Many of my problems began when, a few years into my employment, we moved to a new, bigger office that we shared with another company.

After the move, my seat was moved from the quiet office that always had the lights off (because it had huge windows with natural lighting) and often had the door closed, to the front desk in an open office away from natural light and windows.

This front desk seat also came with the expectation that I would drop whatever I was doing whenever the phone rang, or a guest from either company came through the door.

I was also constantly interrupted by team members who needed help finding items around the new office (and other random requests that hadn’t come my way when I started out working in the quiet office years prior).

All the constant interruptions hindered the monotropic way my mind works and the other tasks on my plate that needed deep focus.

I was always on edge, waiting for the next interruption in my train of thought, which made it hard to focus and get into my flow.

Coming to the office early, before everyone showed up, I could get some tasks done before the daily interruptions started, but it wasn’t enough time to do everything, so I also spent many hours working in the evenings after everyone went home (or at home in what should have been my free time), when I was finally alone and uninterrupted.

Because I knew my employer would resist letting me work remotely, I also offered that, if remote work wasn’t an option, I could make things work with a quiet corner (preferably by the window) or a room to work in (as long as it had natural light and I had more control over my sensory environment and fewer interruptions, since being a receptionist hadn’t been in my original job description and I’d never agreed to taking on those additional responsibilities).

Unfortunately, neither request was honored, and I was treated as if even asking was completely unreasonable.

I was told that “because I wasn’t diagnosed when I was hired and hadn’t asked for accommodations or disclosed a disability when I was onboarded years ago” (before the move to the new office, when the job was naturally meeting many of my needs), “it was unreasonable for me to suddenly start asking for changes,” because I was, according to my boss, “high functioning and not like those severely Autistic people who need more help and can’t work without support.“

The rejection burned into me, because my boss was well aware that my health had been deteriorating in recent months, and that I had been missing lots of work and going to frequent doctor and specialist appointments trying to figure out why I had suddenly gotten so sick and had started wasting away before everyone’s eyes.

I thought finally having the answer (that I was Autistic and was sick because of unmet sensory needs) would finally unlock access to what I needed to thrive. Unfortunately, even with this life-changing information, my employer wanted me to find a way to fit into their system, without being willing to bend it even slightly to meet my needs.

The sad, ironic thing was that one of the problems I was supposed to be working toward solving was the company’s high turnover rate.

The employer wanted to find ways to increase tenure… while at the same time, failing to support me (one of their most tenured employees).

Once I learned my needs (and, by extension, my health) weren’t important to my employer, the spell was broken.

I was angry and full of resentment that I had given so much of myself (sometimes working well over 60 hours a week without even being paid for the overtime, which was illegal based on my responsibilities) to a company that didn’t care about my health.

The company illegally classified almost everyone on their team as exempt from overtime (even though many of us didn’t meet the requirements to be exempt). They also forbade us from talking about our pay rates with one another (also illegal).

I knew it was illegal, but I didn’t speak up because I felt lucky to have that job… at first.

I’m an all-or-nothing type of person. That means when I care about a task, job, or company I work for, I give it my all and tend to overgive.

My dedication has made me an easy person for employers to exploit over the years, because when I felt my sacrifices were appreciated, I was often willing to let employers get away with things I shouldn’t have.

Once I realized how little I mattered to this particular employer (who I’d given so much to that I’d made myself mentally and physically ill), I felt used and unappreciated, and I reasonably decided that I had no choice but to move on (from a job that would have been far below my skill level if I’d been properly supported).

I was lucky to find a new job, one that was willing and able to meet my needs.

While the employer that had used and abused me left me feeling sour and bitter about corporate America, my next employer gave me hope and proof that a better way was possible.

With my new employer, they knew from the beginning, before even hiring me, that I was Autistic, and asked me what I would need to thrive.

I asked for remote work, a flexible schedule, and clear, direct communication about expectations and deadlines. No coercion and manipulation.

None of that Office-Space BS, where they say something like “your uniform requires you to wear ‘a bare minimum’ of 15 pieces of flair,” so you do the minimum but then get in trouble for “only doing the minimum.”

My previous employer was like that, but instead of flair, it was networking events.

None of the networking events were mandatory, so I didn’t go, or I only went occasionally… but then I got in trouble for “just doing the bare minimum” when I didn’t go to the non-mandatory events I had no desire to attend.

If the events were mandatory, they should have told me how many I was REQUIRED to attend each month.

I would have obliged with whatever was required of me (even though none of these things were outlined in my job description or explained to me as expectations when I signed up for what I was led to believe would mostly be an office job as an executive assistant).

The new company had never had a remote team member or offered flexible schedules before.

Still, instead of saying “we don’t have any remote positions available” or “that’s not how we do things around here,” they were curious and asked how I planned to do my work remotely.

This was back before the pandemic, when remote work was not nearly as prevalent as it is now, so many employers still were unfamiliar with remote work, and didn’t yet realize that having a remote team was possible (or how much more effective and efficient some of us can be when working remotely).

Back then, many people still assumed that working remotely meant sitting at home in your PJs all day, while watching Netflix and pretending to work… and while the working in comfy clothes thing (or at least comfy pants) was mostly true, the slacking and watching Netflix and goofing off was, in most cases, a myth.

Since I had already done quite a bit of hybrid work (part-time remote and part-time in the office) with my previous employer, I had lots of ideas about how people could work effectively remotely while staying connected to team members without sitting close to one another.

I also had a lot of insight into accountability and how I could show my boss my work was getting done, so they knew they were getting their money’s worth from me, without having to micromanage my tasks.

My new job started out as part-time remote contract work, 12 hours a week, with a flexible schedule that I flexed around the toxic job I was trying to leave.

Once my new employer got to know me and my capabilities, they quickly realized they had much more work to give me. They offered me a full-time remote position, letting me leave the toxic, exploitative workplace (that had nearly ended me) behind.

The change was one of the best things that ever happened to me, because it showed me that a better way was possible.

Over time, the flexible remote work schedule (which let me stay employed while recovering from burnout) became standard across the company, helping us attract an all-star team of highly motivated talent.

By September 2019 (six months before the COVID pandemic hit the United States and forced all non-essential businesses to halt in-person operations), we were closing our physical office and had become fully remote.

It was a good thing we’d made the switch, too, because our services wouldn’t have qualified as “essential” under the government restrictions that went into place in March of 2020.

Without shifting to remote work, we couldn’t have stayed open.

We also would have been stuck paying rent for unusable office space if we hadn’t switched months earlier.

In addition, as an HR and business consulting firm, being well-versed in remote work meant we were leading the way and showing other businesses how to perform effectively remotely. This wasn’t the only way universal design helped make us a more effective team during the pandemic.

Suddenly, the flexible schedule I needed allowed our team members who were parents with kids at home (who were doing remote school) to help with schoolwork and other obligations (like getting small children logged into Zoom meetings), flexing their schedules around lives that had suddenly become much busier and more demanding.

The pandemic proved how using universal design to accommodate Neurodivergent employees (making the things I needed for success available to anyone who felt access could make them a more effective team member) was a smart business move, because it gave everyone the tools they needed to work in ways that best suited their schedules and needs.  

It was the best job I’d ever had up to that point, but unfortunately, my days with the consulting firm were numbered.

Keep reading to see what happened when that “best job” ended and why the same remote work that once kept me alive is now treated as a perk I haven’t earned.

If you would like to read the full piece, please consider becoming a paid subscriber on Patreon (where I offer a ‘pay-what-you-can’ subscription starting at ONLY $1 a month / $12 a year) or Substack (my main platform, where I also do live educational videos each week) to unlock the full essay and support this work.

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Lyric Rivera is an educator and author of multiple books, including the best-selling business ethics book, Workplace Neurodiversity Rising, Neurodivergent Rebel’s The Weight of Normal, a collaborator on the U.S. Version of the Autism, Identity and Me children’s workbooks and helper guide by Rebecca Duffus, and co-author with Rebecca Duffus on the upcoming Autism, Identity, and me Workbook for adults releasing on November 13, 2026 (pre-orders open NOW)!

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This post was written with the assistance of Focused Space (a sponsor of the Neurodivergent Rebel blog).

What is Focused Space?

Focused Space is an ADHD-focused, Neurodiversity affirming, goal‑setting, and online co‑working / body‑doubling platform designed to help people prioritize, stay motivated, and bust through procrastination (and it is something I believe in and personally use every day).

More info:

Learn more about how I use it here!

I get requests (that I mostly ignore) to do brand partnerships all the time, because I don’t want to partner with products unless I actually find them useful and high-quality. I also want to work with brands whose owners and processes align with my personal standards and ethics.

That’s why I’m excited to announce that the Neurodivergent Rebel Blog is officially partnering with Focused Space, and our community members can now get access to Focused Space at a special rate of 20% off forever when you use the code “NEURODIVERGENTREBEL” at checkout via the button below or at get.focused.space/neurodivergentrebel:

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