Remember what's good for You [sometimes I forget I'm autistic]

disconnect 020/237

[13 April 2025]

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Sometimes I forget I’m autistic. I tend to forget in the noise of daily life.

Solitude reminds me of who I am.

I tend to forget that I process the world differently than those who are considered the norm—those who are largely responsible for creating the world we live in.

Solitude reminds me of what’s good for me.

It reminded me when I visited an exhibition at Kraftwerk Berlin during their low-sensory hours. This visit motivated me to lean (even further) into some of my autistic traits—to create a life that’s tailored to my strengths / what’s meant for me. And, as a byproduct, transcend other traits / factory settings I was born with.

I discovered a flyer for the exhibition WE FELT A STAR DYING while having breakfast at Gorilla. The cover of the booklet I found between several magazines on the counter-like table in front of the large floor-to-ceiling windows (where I usually sit when I go there with A. to have breakfast) attracted me.

Don’t judge a book by its cover—but do trust your intuition when you’re attracted to one. Then, find out more about it, without judgment.

I opened the booklet and started reading the first page:

Visitor Information

INSTALLATION – Laure Prouvost: WE FELT A STAR DYING, 2025
Commissioned by LAS Art Foundation, co-commissioned by OGR Torino

VENUE – Kraftwerk Berlin
Köpenicker Straße 70
10179 Berlin

OPENING HOURS – 21 February–4 May 2025
Tuesday–Friday: 15:00–21:00
Saturday–Sunday: 12:00–20:00

Special Hours on Tuesdays:
School and Family Hours: 11:00–14:00
Low-sensory Hours: 15:00–18:00

I stopped reading, closed the booklet, and put it back between the magazines (I believe it was Spiegel and Zeit Magazin) where I found it.

I had no idea what the exhibition was about, but I was drawn to the fact that they offered low-sensory hours. I’ve never been to an exhibition—or any other type of event—that did. So I went to Kraftwerk Berlin on a windy, cold, and grey Tuesday afternoon to witness WE FELT A STAR DYING during their low-sensory hours.

I’ve been distracted lately. I’ve been forgetting small things—like taking tissues with me, even though my nose has been runny for weeks and I’m constantly wiping it when I’m at home. Body parts have been starting and stopping to ache randomly (left forearm, left leg, back).

I was feeling weak, not myself, and wanted to enjoy the low-sensory experience with the intention to recharge. So I decided, before entering, that I wouldn’t take any notes—just fully immerse myself—and write down my thoughts later, after I’d left.

I’ve been very successful in my life. Based on ‘normal society’ standards. A therapist once told me she doubted I’m autistic given the success I’ve had in my jobs and because I’ve had long, stable relationships. (I took it as a compliment)

The low sensory environment felt very good - a world like this (especially low lights) would be amazing. It heightened my senses (perfume) - can be both good and bad.

I often don’t realize how easy and unoverstimulating life can be because overstimulating is the norm. I’m used to it and luckily I am able to adapt - but at what cost?

It is important that spaces like this one exist - to show how angenehm life can be in a low-sensory environment and with sufficient space to relax, process, and recharge. (rest area, sound lab)

Lean into my autistic traits - mostly: repetitive behavior/patterns —> for a long time I rejected routines because I thought it was cool to in den Tag hinein leben. It’s a waste of my potential though.

If used correctly, my natural affinity for repetitive behavior comes close to what some people would call an ‘autistic superpower’. (every world class athlete’s otherworldly performance is based on rigorous routines)

My art is a cure for many symptoms of autism.
(plenty of people experience them in some form - allistic people as well)

‘Isn’t everyone a bit autistic?’

'Does everyone sometimes scream, fighting the urge to destroy things, throw something that can’t break (eg a piece of clothing) to the floor with all the force they have to get rid of this urge, and then throw themselves on the bed and cry?'

Eventually, I didn’t write down these thoughts after I left the exhibition.
After exploring the space for nearly two hours, I sat down in the quiet corner that was set up to rest, reflect, and process—and they began to flow out of me, like glacier water from the mountains in May.

Do you sometimes forget what’s good for you in the noise of daily life?

Are you aware of it?

If yes, how do you remind yourself?

(If you have any strategies, hit me up. I’m curious.)

Enjoy your day (or night).

glg Soda

PS: I’m currently in touch with project spaces in Berlin to present audiovisual listening sessions for 40 Nights in Toronto. I want to give you the opportunity to experience it, wherever you are. So if you have any ideas for spaces where you’d love to see it, let me know and I’ll do my best to make it happen.

PPS: If you have any feedback, I’m curious to hear it!