Coping with dissociation: autistic-affirming strategies
By an autistic person, for autistic people
Read about dissociation here.
1. Track the triggers
Start by noticing patterns. Does dissociation happen in loud places? After social conflict? During transitions? Keeping a simple log or journaling after episodes can help you build a map of your nervous system.
2. Grounding techniques
Grounding means reconnecting with the present moment, not forcing your brain back, but inviting it home.
Try:
5-4-3-2-1 grounding: 5 things you see, 4 you can touch, 3 you hear, 2 you smell, 1 you taste. Adapt this to your sensory needs.
Cold rosewater spray from the fridge. A spritz on the face can be surprisingly effective. The cold sensation jolts me a bit but the smell of rose water is familiar and safe.
Weighted blankets or vests for proprioceptive input (deep pressure helps the body feel “real” again).
Ice cubes, fizzy drinks, or cold water are sensory jolts that gently pull attention back.
3. Stimming for regulation
Stimming isn’t just a comfort. It’s a regulation tool. Rocking, tapping, hand flapping, bouncing, or repeating sounds can help you stay connected to your body. Don’t suppress it. Embrace it.
4. Movement and breath
If you can move, try pacing, stretching, or gently pressing your feet into the floor. Pair that with intentional breathing:
Inhale for 6 counts
Pause for 3- really spend time in this in-between
Exhale for 6
This breathing rhythm calms the nervous system and helps your body reorient.
5. Create a safe exit-and-return space
Have a sensory corner, a low-demand room, or even a symbolic object, like a stone or fidget, that you associate with “coming back.”
Let this be your ritual, not one imposed by others.
You are your own lighthouse
Dissociation isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom. Your brain found a way to survive overstimulation, rejection, and emotional overload. That’s not a disorder. It is your resilience.
We don’t need to pathologize ourselves. We need to honor what our brains have done to protect us, and give ourselves the support to come back gently, when it’s safe.
I’ve learned that I am my own lighthouse. I guide myself home, not by demanding presence, but by offering kindness, curiosity, and consent. You deserve the same. You don’t need to justify your experience to anyone. Your inner world is valid, even if others can’t see it.