A life dismantled, a self reclaimed.
In this raw and unflinching collection of essays, an anonymous author lays bare a life unravelled by burnout, undiagnosed autism, and the relentless pressure to perform in a world that never quite fit.
From the collapse of a creative career to a solitary trek across the French Alps, these piercing reflections trace the journey from breakdown to breakthrough. With unwavering honesty, the author dismantles the myths of âfunctioningâ, confronts the weight of self-censorship, and finds liberation in embracing a neurodivergent identity.
Through vivid encounters with wildlife, candid accounts of mental health, and a hard-won lens of self-acceptance, A Comprehensive Breakdown speaks to anyone who has ever felt out of step with time, society, or themselves. This is not a guide to reinvention, but a testament to the messy, deeply human process of becoming yourself.
A life dismantled, a self reclaimed.
In this raw and unflinching collection of essays, an anonymous author lays bare a life unravelled by burnout, undiagnosed autism, and the relentless pressure to perform in a world that never quite fit.
From the collapse of a creative career to a solitary trek across the French Alps, these piercing reflections trace the journey from breakdown to breakthrough. With unwavering honesty, the author dismantles the myths of âfunctioningâ, confronts the weight of self-censorship, and finds liberation in embracing a neurodivergent identity.
Through vivid encounters with wildlife, candid accounts of mental health, and a hard-won lens of self-acceptance, A Comprehensive Breakdown speaks to anyone who has ever felt out of step with time, society, or themselves. This is not a guide to reinvention, but a testament to the messy, deeply human process of becoming yourself.
Autism, Perception, and the Cost of Appearing Fine
Fluent in the Act
There was something especially confronting about walking out of work. No one saw it coming. Not even me.
I knew I was depressed, briskly averting any gaze as tears welled with increasing frequency. My thoughts looped incessantly: success was a scam, I was a sham, and everyone was recycling each otherâs ideas and congratulating themselves for it.
I felt trapped in a cage of insincerity, among parrots mimicking one anotherâs call. Iâd talked myself out of everything: skill, confidence, even life.
Like a ghost in the machine, I spun the cogs unseen, trying not to break the mechanism. The inner voice grew louder behind the veil of coping. It was not just agitated but cruel. Being human felt exhausting and unnatural.
Outwardly, I was functioning: quieter, more withdrawn, a little less patient, but dependable.
Still thoughtful.
Still doing the work. I would plug into my headphones, get the job done, occasionally slip an ear out to join a conversation. To the untrained eye, nothing much had changed.
Those who had known me longer might have sensed it. The shift. The invisibility. The shutdown. The discomfort.
I searched for meaning in podcasts, in self-help, in strategy. But I felt stuck in a company culture that relied on my output long after I had lost the love for it.
The Hidden Price
People want to believe others are fine. That a little nudge will do. Straighten up. Smile. Carry on.
Even I believed it.
âFake it till you make it,â someone said in a meeting about my silence. But when you already feel invisible, that advice cuts deep.
Add undiagnosed autism and a raw dislike for forced cheer on company chat threads, and it was only a matter of time before the cracks began to show.
Despite that, I tried. I ticked the boxes and said the hellos. Played the part until they were full of praise.
âOh, itâs so lovely. Weâve got the old you back.â But I was not any better. I had simply proved that insincerity wins the day. That was when it all fell apart. I was functioning exactly how they wanted me to, so they believed I was fine. Because I made them feel fine in the most meaningless of ways.
Beyond the Performance
That moment exposed the problem with my entire life.
They did not know me. I would not let them. They liked the version of me that made them comfortable, the one I had mastered performing. The internalised shame of my unspoken thoughts only fuelled the fire.
Worthlessness and ridicule swirled in my mind. I ran silent simulations, theorising my way out of the dark.
They wanted Monday morning memes to boost culture vibes. I wanted meaning.
The office family had spoken. Shape up or ship out. My shape-shifting had lost its incentive.
The whole thing condensed into something crushing and bitter. The myth was exposed. The performance cancelled. I refused to play.
I would rather lose everything than get back on stage.
Perception places blame where it can see it. Nothing visible was broken, not on the outside. I tried to speak up, but my ego stepped in. It did not want to make a scene. It did not want to be a problem.
I tried to understand that others worked differently, but why did I have to absorb their perceived shortcomings while suppressing my own?
Competence became camouflage. Composure became a curse. Righteous indignation festered.
Like my back pain, it is hard to treat what cannot be seen, or for others to appreciate what they have never felt. That sort of invisibility is how suicidal thoughts slip in.
If I can play societyâs survival game without anyone noticing the cost, am I already gone?
I had to forego functioning to discover what I was actually feeling. To realise there is no real self unless others are allowed to perceive it. But how could I show them what I had been blind to myself?
Before I begin, what a privilege to read this book! A Comprehensive Breakdown openly shares the struggle of living with undiagnosed autism, the challenges of diagnosis and eventual self-acceptance.
For anyone who is neurodivergent or who suspects they might be, this is an open and vulnerable read which delves into perfectionism, masking and a desire to fit in, whilst feeling deeply uncomfortable and unhappy.
Next there is the challenge of diagnosis, what this means, and the struggle of knowing that who you thought you should be is really not possible. And so the author looks forwards, into the future, with a deep sense of self-acceptance and an understanding that deep sensitivity needs care rather than correction.
I absolutely loved this book, resonated deeply, and found it inspiring. What stood out for me was the struggle with blame and upset that people with autism feel when trying to navigate life. In searching for a reason for pain, depression and IBS, the author delved into self-help books, food and apps to try and improve quality of life.
I loved the reflexive approach to relationships, those which worked and those which didnât, the insights into social struggles and the importance of self-knowledge and self-compassion, and the subjective insight into how autism feels. And I loved how the author let go of the life he was supposed to have.
Each section of the story is written in a space of exploration, and though there is a narrative arc, reading is more like being given access to the story as it happened, not necessarily ordered but more like reading a journal which tries to put the pieces together to make sense out of a once overwhelming world.
As a neurodivergent person myself, the exploration and the hope at the end felt beautifully written and hopeful for so many people. If you are on the spectrum, this is a book to help you feel less lonely, and if you know someone who is neurodivergent, itâs a lovely book to read, share and discuss together.