Autism and Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome; Overextended in Every Way

Apparently, autism and hypermobile spectrum disorders often occur together. 

I have hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), which basically means my collagen is the Dollarama version. My cousin used to call me “rubber chicken” when I was a kid because I could bend like a Cirque du Soleil contortionist. I’d casually twist my limbs into shapes that made other people uncomfortable, while I thought, “What? This is just how I sit.”

Unfortunately, the fun party trick came with some less fun features:

Spraining my ankle just by existing near stairs.

Popping my sacroiliac joint out of alignment because I dared to sneeze.

I managed to fracture my own rib doing a sit-up. Basically, the stuff that’s supposed to hold everything together (like collagen in ligaments and cartilage) isn’t as sturdy as it should be. So instead of supporting my ribcage during movement, it let a rib shift or press in a way it definitely wasn’t meant to, and… snap. 

And while most people can sit comfortably for hours, I have to constantly shift and reposition like I'm trying to find the least torturous square inch of existence. 

But the crown jewel of hEDS symptoms? Fatigue. That bone-deep, soul-sucking tiredness that makes you question whether getting out of bed is worth the risk of accidentally dislocating a hip. For years, I just got used to doing life on “exhausted mode.” I became a professional at smiling through brain fog and pretending I was fine, while internally screaming, “I am one nap away from giving up on civilization.”

The autism-hEDS combo means I have both a body that is structurally unreliable and a brain that insists on strict routines—except my body doesn’t care about my routines. I’ll plan a productive day and my joints will stage a mutiny.

I’m better at managing it now— pacing myself, better ergonomics. But let’s be clear: it still sucks. This is not one of those “And then I found the silver lining!” stories. The silver lining is more like, “I own a lot of compression braces and know all the best ways to bend over without dislocating something.”

So yes, I have autism and hEDS. My nervous system is a little spicy, my joints are a little loose, and my energy is about as reliable as a toddler with a marker. But I’m still here, still moving (albeit awkwardly), and still laughing because that's always been my favourite coping mechanism, after chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.