Dear fellow neurodivergent woman,

It’s January 2024. Last week, as the snow settled on the stone pavements in West Yorkshire, I set off on a gruelling 32-hour journey to northern India. 

I LOATHE travelling with every inch of my body due to major hyper-sensitivity. Still, I force myself to deal with the discomfort because I love experiencing different cultures. And as much as I try to deny it, I need rays of sunshine on my body semi-regularly, even in Winter.

I was interested to read that Autistic people are more sensitive to colder temperatures. We may also have difficulty staying warm, leading to discomfort, decreased mobility, and increased anxiety. This is certainly me and it’s why I’ve spent my whole life chasing the sun.

I hoped the journey would be relatively peaceful, on schedule, and I’d have as little interaction with other human beings as possible. 

I know, I should have set my expectations a little lower.

I spent months anxiously over-planning the trip trying to compensate for every potential unknown eventuality. I worked myself into a planning frenzy with seven separate to-do lists. By the time I set off, my torso was engulfed with a dense, grazing anxiety - a slab of concrete resting where my breastbone should be. 

So when I reached Manchester airport, I was dog-tired from carrying so much fear for so many days.

My first hurdle came immediately. I arrived at Terminal 3 precisely on time to find that check-in was delayed by an hour. Damn. What am I gonna do? I look around with panic. I can't wait here with all these bodies and chaos. 

This wasn't my first rodeo, so I did what I often do: hide in a toilet cubicle. This really is an excellent solution for anyone neurodiverse and with high sensitivities to get some personal space in almost any situation. 

I wish I'd utilised it more when I was in high school. Of course, there's always a continuous banging of doors, water from taps splashing, and dryers thrumming to contend with, and it usually stinks of industrial-strength disinfectant. Still, it beats being out in the wild.

After 45 minutes hiding in the loo, I walk to the desk fifteen minutes early and am pleased to be among the first in line. I stand there quietly, waiting. We wait, and we wait. Nothing. As the minutes pass, hundreds of people start to gather behind me. Still, nothing is happening; the atmosphere is tense.

After an hour of standing in the same spot, pretending to be unbothered by this alarming delay to my carefully crafted timetable, I realised my back was hurting from the weight of my rucksack. I remember I can take it off and rest it on the floor. I hadn’t noticed as I was too busy managing my fight or flight mode.

People around me start grumbling. "This is ridiculous." "I thought more of British Airways." "What a joke." I think all these things, but I have nobody to say them to. 

I never go on my phone in a situation like this; I'm on high alert, listening for details my neurodivergent brain might need to assess and calibrate. So I have nothing to do; I’m just waiting. The air smells of minty gum and deodorant. I'm trying to give off calm, confident and friendly vibes, but also: 'don't speak to me'.

I keep accidentally catching eyes with various people in the queue and it's highly embarrassing.

The staff arrive and start checking people in, but not our queue, not us. An older couple are standing behind me. He's moaning, and she's attempting to pacify him.

I pluck up the courage to turn around and say: I always get in the wrong queue, too. I shake my head and smile. After this small interaction, for which they seem as grateful as I am, my anxiety completely dissipates. My body drops its rigid tension.

On the plane to Heathrow, I surprise myself by chatting with the woman beside me. I initiate the conversation by asking how to change terminals at Heathrow. She's in her mid-fifties, wearing a beige sweater, leggings, and perfectly applied cream pearlised eyeshadow. She looks surprised when I tell her I'm going to Rishikesh alone.

Do you often go on holiday alone? She asks.

I can see something lurking at the back of her hazel eyes. When I answer yes, I always go on holiday alone; since my daughter left, she nods thoughtfully, gives a closed-mouth smile and looks away.

Then she gestures to her husband, sitting on the adjacent row and tells me they're off to South Africa for a road trip. He looks nice enough and is particularly helpful in advising on Heathrow bus timetables, but I wouldn't want to go on holiday with him (or anyone for that matter); maybe she doesn't either.

I reassure her I've just bought a new rape alarm with a torch and a piercing siren that I've clipped onto my bumbag. Also, I check in with my mum and daughter via text every day. She nods in approval. 

As we leave the plane, she catches my shoulder softly with her hand and says: 'Stay safe' with a big grin. I’m overcome with gratitude and feel like the world is suddenly a more beautiful place.

I change terminals via a shuttle bus at Heathrow with minimum fuss (thank you helpful husband) and arrive to find my flight to Delhi is delayed. Three hours to wait. 

But I'm feeling strangely okay now. Even though I'm surrounded by noisy announcements, strip lighting, processed food smells, and other people's anxiety, I feel calm. I cannot tell you why this is. There's plenty of space, so maybe that's it. Or, perhaps I've just had enough of being so weird and have to drop it? If only it were so simple…

I make a nest within a few seats and put my bags on either side so nobody can sit near me. I know this is a shitty thing to do, but honestly, there are hundreds of seats available.

My peace ends when I board the Virgin flight to Delhi. The overstimulation is so bad I feel nauseous. Aggressive lights burrow into my eyes, aircon blasts my cheeks, and deafening R&B music blares through speakers. 

I start to shrink. I try to make myself smaller and detract my mind and body. As usual, in these intense situations, I wonder if I will go insane.

I get it. The airline is trying to create a 'holiday vibe'. The air hostesses are young and pretty with French plaits and red glossy lipstick, welcoming us all onboard. I like their confidence and sincere warmth, but the situation is intolerable.

I put in my Loop earplugs and noise-cancelling headphones over the top, but it's not enough. The sound still penetrates my nervous system. I put my sunglasses on, which helps dim the brightness a little. 

I sit, taking deep breaths, knowing it will end soon. In my mind, I'm penning a complaint letter to Richard Branson on behalf of the estimated 20% neurodiverse population. I won't write it though. Just like the letter I pen in my head every time I sit in the doctor's waiting room, bombarded by Radio 1. Yes, music can be soothing, but not this garbage and not at a thousand decibels. 

I dream of a future where, one day, it will be a crime to infiltrate another's personal hearing space.

Things start to improve when the pilot announces the doors are closing for takeoff, and the middle seat is still vacant. I am ecstatic. I have a window seat, so I have NOBODY on either side of me.

I find I'm unable to soothe my nervous system from the sensory attack; the engines inside my being are still roaring. If I were at home, I'd either lie in my bedroom in the dark in silence or go for a walk in the woods.

Alcohol can help. It's probably one of the main reasons I used to be an alcoholic. Undiagnosed autistic seeking nervous system regulation. 

I order a glass of Merlot. It arrives in a slim pink tin, so I don't hold much hope for the taste. But it says it's 13.7% and allegedly vegan, so I change my mind. I pour a little of the dark red liquid into the flimsy plastic glass and take a tentative sip. It delivers immediately. On taste - heavy, meaty, spicy - and on effect - soothing, weighty, calm. I breathe a huge sigh of relief. I have a couple more sips, and I'm floating on a bed of feathers.

Things settle down. I write a few notes. All is well. I've packed many things to read, listen to or watch, but I don't touch them. Instead, I become fixated on the TV screen before me displaying the current flight information.

4,184.04 miles to destination. 31,000 feet. Time at departure destination: 8:00 PM. Time at arrival destination: 1:30 AM.

I watch the map and coordinates and timings for the whole eight hours and am never once bored.

As we pass over Germany, we see the lights of an unknown city. So many homes, so many lives, so many fascinating daily routines. Comforting yet alien. The earth is enormous. Too many places I will never see. I'm mournful to think there are so many humans I will never know. 

As we pass over Pakistan, hundreds of miles of white mountain peaks look like waves suspended in the air in the eye of a storm. It takes my breath away, and I'm filled with emotion. Tiny clusters of lights from villages are dotted in the foothills. More unknowable lives.

Then, the vast orange haze of the sunrise appears above the clouds. Filling the cabin with a soft, warm orange glow that feels not of this world. 

Awe, forgotten dreams, ancient wisdom, and hope all stir within me in one special moment.

As I touched down in India, the familiarity of the sun's warmth reminded me of why this journey was worth the hassle. Travelling for us, with all its sensory overload, might never be easy, but it's moments like these—feeling the sun on my skin in a place far from home—that make the discomfort tolerable. 

It's about finding small pockets of solace amidst the discomfort, through a shared smile with a stranger, a timely word of advice, or even a simple glass of Merlot. 

Through every delay, every queue, and every douse of industrial lighting, remind yourself of the reasons you embraced the journey. And, as always, carry some earplugs. Happy travels!

16 Tips To Cope With Travel Anxiety

1. Plan: Create detailed itineraries and to-do lists to manage uncertainties and feel more in control.
2. Seek Personal Space: Utilise quiet places like airport toilets or lounges to escape crowds and recharge your senses.
3. Travel Lightly: Be mindful of your luggage's weight to avoid physical discomfort during long waits.
4. Use Sensory Tools: Bring earplugs, noise-cancelling headphones, eye masks and sunglasses to manage sensory overload.
5. Expect Delays: Set realistic expectations and prepare mentally for possible delays or changes in plans.
6. Maintain Routine Communication: Check in regularly with a trusted friend or family member to stay grounded and connected.
7. Engage Briefly with Strangers: Small, controlled interactions can provide comfort and ease anxiety.
8. Practice Mindfulness: Incorporate breathing exercises to help centre yourself during stressful moments. I often engage in deep breathing exercises without anyone knowing.
9. Visualise Success: Mentally walk through your journey, picturing each step going smoothly to build confidence. I’m not great at visualising but my daughter is and she swears by this technique.
10. Use Aromatherapy: Carry calming scents like lavender or chamomile to soothe anxiety on the go. I carry a homemade aura spray of sage and lemon balm and spray it liberally as I go—this helps to clear negative energy.
11. Create a Travel Playlist: Prepare a playlist of familiar, calming music to distract and relax. I also like to stock up on interesting podcasts to take my mind off stressful environments.
12. Wear Comfortable Clothing: Choose soft, non-restrictive clothes to minimise physical discomfort and sensory irritation. I wear only natural fibres so they’re breathable.
13. Utilise Technology: Use travel apps to keep track of schedules, itineraries, and alerts to reduce uncertainty.
14. Limit Caffeine and Sugar: Avoid food and drinks that could exacerbate anxiety or sensory issues.
15. Stay Hydrated: Ensure you drink enough water, as dehydration can heighten stress and discomfort.
16. Prepare a Calming Kit: Pack a small bag with stress-relief items, like stress balls, fidget spinners, or a comforting book. I carry a silk blanket and a mindful colouring book.
    
    

Some other posts you'll like:

1. I Wouldn't Be Successful Without Help From Others
2. Why Proactive Rest is a Great Strategy for Neurodiverse Women
3. The Two Women Inside Me: Navigating Life with AuDHD (Autism & ADHD)
4. Why We Need To Overcome Shiny Object Syndrome