Disclaimer: Autism/ADHD in adults looks different for everyone. For me, it’s often about sensory load—especially in loud, crowded spaces like raves. This is meant to be a helpful guide for those navigating neurodivergent overstimulation in the rave community at events.
The night started in the rain
It was my birthday, and the event was listed as a new bar in Alameda. Freshly opened only the night previous. Very little information online about the location but it ended up being in a hangar as it was on the old naval base off of the water of the bay, on a cold, rainy and surprisingly windy night. I showed up in my favorite street clothes: a cute purple dress covered in cartoons, white comfortable platforms that I changed into as I decided the other previous shoes would hurt my feet for standing in them too long, glitter tights, and fluffy braided hair (which I personally love because it keeps the hair out of my face (and offers color without dying my hair of overheating from wig use). Before I left the Taylor’s car, I instinctively grabbed my bright green Hello Kitty sweater that I let her borrow prior to this show. I didn’t put it on yet, but having it with me felt like a little forcefield. That tiny “I’ve got options” feeling matters.
In line, my friend Rob surprised me—he drove straight from Sacramento after work to make it. That warmed me up from the inside, because it had been a surprise that he was coming. The feeling of being considered I was incredibly thankful for because moments later a gust of wind dumped pooled rainwater from the tent straight down my back. Ice water shock. Classic rave pregame. We couldn’t help but laugh at the noise that audibly came out of my mouth when it hit my bare skin on my back.
The music… and the MC from another dimension
- Opener 1: DuchessDnB….I’ve seen her before and usually love her, but this set felt like R&B with fast drums and bass—just not clicking for me. I tuned out a bit. I tried to get into the set but felt overwhelmingly UNDER STIMULATED.
- JAMAL: I was hopeful, especially after seeing him last week—but there was an MC this time, and it absolutely killed the vibe for me and my besties. Think: someone’s drunk uncle rambling on stage yelling “Disgusting!” and “Sasquatch!” The energy felt chaotic and, honestly, creepy. My nervous system labeled it “demonic” and “unsafe” and hit the red alert.
As I pushed closer to the crowd, I felt that familiar wave: overstimulation creeping in—sound pressure, lights, bodies, unpredictable voice on the mic. My best friend (also neurodivergent) was struggling too. This is where I rely on my toolkit.
How I managed over stimulation in the moment
A change I’ve learned to navigate only this year is to recognize when I’m getting overwhelmed and handle it appropriately for me and Don’t wait to think it will solve itself. Really, finding out I’m not only ADHD but autistic through my evaluation gave me the cement knowledge I needed to not wonder if this played a role in my prior fainting at shows, which was a regular occurrence. I had suspected it but always denied that part of me and once I received the diagnosis, I began to dig deep for answers that could help me and put new experiences into practice.
When my system starts to flood, I don’t push through—I pivot. IMMEDIATELY.
- Step away: I backed out to the edge of the crowd, away from security that would also harass me, and sat down
- Eyes closed: I shut off visual input to reduce load.
- Breathing: Slow inhales/exhales until my heart rate matched my breath.
- Temperature shift: I let the cold air hit my face.
- Comfort item: I put on the Hello Kitty sweater. Instant relief. I’ve learned sweaters are a legit regulation tool for me—pressure, warmth, familiarity. Simple, effective.
- Food. Safety food helps. For me, my safe food at shows is chicken tenders and fries. Absolutely.
Meanwhile, the set dragged on because the headliner—Dimension—was late. Time distortion is real when you’re overwhelmed; everything feels longer and louder.and longer of something you’re not enjoying feels like a nightmare.
Plot twist: I lost my phone
Right as Dimension finally started, my phone disappeared. My bestie called it—security answered. I could barely hear them over the music. All I caught was “where… you… meet…” and I yelled back, “CHICKEN TENDERS!” As there was only one little food truck there that served food. And it was scarce with fellow ravers since the show started. It worked! A kind security lady reunited me with my phone and she was gifted back a million hugs. The best of the security all of the night.
I ordered some chicken tenders, ate them, and then was ready to join society.
My friends held onto it after that. No videos from me this time—honestly, that’s how my best nights go. I can never offer proof to the stories I have lived because of this factor but at least I get to live in the moment presently.
The reset: Dimension delivered
From the moment Dimension hit, the energy flipped. I closed my eyes and let the music pull me where it wanted—right up to the second row. We all know how much I love to feel the energy of people around me with my eyes closed and people are kind about my adventures as a lil weird woman. The DJ…..He chain-smoked just as his memes depicted, the crowd surged, and I found my rhythm again. I handed out “animals in heat” stickers to those living their best lives, cheered for the dancers around me, and bopped with my favorite community.
That’s the other part of regulation for me: connection. People know I’m a little different, and they’re kind about it. No one questions my headphones anymore; they compliment them. Someone gave me a Kandi that said “meow meow,” a little nod to my kitty ear headphones. I’m starting to be recognized from show to show, and a girl told me my vibe at another set was infectious. I felt witnessed—and it didn’t feel scary like it used to. What a beautiful soul that woman was and such a special compliment on my bday.
He finished with one of my favorite songs “Guardian Angel” and ensured the night for me ended on a better note.
The drive that went the wrong way (and somehow, the right way)
After the show, we accidentally drove 45 minutes in the wrong direction. But the extra time in the car, listening to the rain from my bestie’s back seat, was magical. A perfect decompression. Sometimes the nervous system needs soft, quiet, and a little distance before bed.
All in all, it was the best birthday I’ve ever had—the week leading up to my birthday was magical, even with the weird MC and his chaotic energy. It helped me cleanse energy that I no longer need to carry. I’m grateful to be figuring out what works for me in the world of AuDHD while being fully, wildly obsessed with music.
What helps me rave with AuDHD (and might help you)
Quick note: I’m sharing what works for me—not medical advice. Everyone’s brain and sensory profile is unique.
Before the event
- Pick comfort-first clothing:
- Layers you can add/remove (I swear by a cozy, familiar sweater).
- Soft textures, no scratchy tags.
- Ear protection:
- Noise-reducing headphones or filtered earplugs. Headphones double as a social signal—people leave you be and often hype them up.
- Plan your “reset zones”:
- Identify exits, seating edges, outside air, and low-light pockets.
- Buddy system:
- Agree on check-ins and meet spots. Share a “lost phone” plan and a silly retrieval keyword if needed (mine was “CHICKEN TENDERS!”).
- Hydration and fuel:
- Water and a simple snack keep your system from crashing.
During the event
- Watch your internal dashboard:
- Early signs for me: audio mush, jumpy startle response, irritability, narrowing vision.
- When it spikes:
- Step back from the crowd.
- Sit or lean; close your eyes.
- Breathe slow and deep (try 4-6 breathing).
- Temperature shift (fresh air, cold water on wrists/neck).
- Add comfort (sweater on, hood up).
- Choose your spot:
- Edges of the floor, near fans, or behind speaker lines, not in front.
- Reduce inputs:
- Headphones on, cap/hood to narrow visual field, sunglasses if lights are harsh.
- Let yourself leave a set you’re not vibing with:
- You’re not “missing out.” You’re curating your experience.
Aftercare
- Decompress: this might also mean not just for the night but the following day. As an example, I didn’t visit any friends today. I quite literally gave my system what it wanted. Solitude with my cats, sleep, not very much contact, and not too much internet. Nothing that would keep me seeking dopamine. Just relaxation and rest. Actual rest for my body and brain.
- Quiet car rides, rain sounds, warm shower, soft lighting.
- Gentle landing. Be kind to myself for taking rest instead of internally punishing myself about being “lazy”.
- Tea, cuddly clothes, journaling a few lines about what worked.
- Track patterns:
- Which MCs, venues, or sound styles overload you? Which help you thrive?
Pocket checklist you can screen-cap
- Layers (favorite sweater/hoodie)… even if you choose not to wear it, it’s a safety blanket that’s acceptable to have with you. It was comforting.
- Ear protection (headphones or filtered plugs)
- Hydration + snack
- Meet spot + buddy check-ins
- Reset zones mapped (outside air, seating, low-light)
- Phone security (wrist strap or trusted friend pocket. Christian, you’re the best!)
- Breath/grounding tool you like
- Permission to step out and come back when ready
Final thoughts
Raving with AuDHD isn’t about forcing yourself to tolerate pain or discomfort —it’s about designing your night so your nervous system can dance, too. For me, that looked like cartoon prints, a neon green Hello Kitty sweater, a few quiet minutes with my eyes closed, and the kindness of a community that sees me.
If you’ve been afraid of overstimulation, you’re not alone—and you’re not excluded. With the right tools and people, you can find your place on that dance floor. And if all else fails, remember: even a wrong turn can lead to the most peaceful rain soundtrack on the ride home.
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