Overwhelm of a Neurodivergent Entrepreneur Trying to Relax

My partner and I recently returned from two weeks “off” (as much as a neurospicy entrepreneur like me can actually be off anyway). We’d been planning a big road trip to the East Coast for months: 18+ hours of driving to the first destination! But four days before we were set to leave, life threw us a curveball and we had to cancel the whole thing.

We pivoted quickly and within 24 hours (ADHD in a crisis for the win!), had everything sorted out and rescheduled to explore Napanee, Montreal, and Ottawa. Still beautiful. Still a wonderful vacation.

One of the new things my partner added to the plan? A spa day at the largest thermal spa in North America. No tech. No agenda. No business. He’d been before. I hadn’t. He was calm and prepared. I was… terrified.

The steps leading up the hill to the entrance of the spa. Absolutely BEAUTIFUL!

The spa was stunning and serene (though not mobility accessible. You have to climb a set of stairs built into the side of a big hill just to get up to the building). From the moment the greeter rattled off instructions while pointing to the map, point out “talking zone,” “whisper zone,” “absolutely no talking zone”. My brain froze. I hadn't processed anything on the map, and I’m a surveyor’s daughter… maps are supposed to be my thing!

I immediately panicked that I’d break a talking vs no talking rule, or worse, not even realize I had, and then get in "trouble". Rejection Sensitivity.

After changing into our bathing suits and spa-provided robes, my partner asked what I wanted to try first. I froze. How should I know? There was no “right” choice. No “right” order. No “quantifiable outcome.” I didn’t know the rules of engagement, and my brain started to short-circuit.

We started with a salt scrub (he had to show me how), then dipped into a warm spring with strangers who only spoke French. I was still mentally unpacking the entrance instructions while trying to make small talk — in French. And I don’t even like small talk in English! My partner can understand French a bit, but not enough to contribute, so it was all on me. Cue the overwhelm.

Every transition was hard. Just as I started to acclimate to one space, it was time to robe up and move again. Each time he asked where I wanted to go next, I felt a wave of panic. No clear outcome. No familiar structure.

Ten minutes in, he asked again where I wanted to go. I buried my face in his chest to hide from the world and said, “You need to tell me what to do today. I can’t make decisions right now. I want to go back to the safety of my business systems and event planning.” He chuckled gently, hugged me (hello, compression therapy!), and stepped into his role as my spa guide, while one of the staff reminded me in French, “No computers here. It’s time to relax.” Not helping.

My partner calmly guided me through each experience: showing me how to enter a sauna, reminding me it was okay to leave any area that didn’t feel good, and promising to either follow me out or meet me somewhere else if I needed space. No pressure. No judgment. Just support.

Then came the Kalla pool, a saltwater pool that mimics the Dead Sea. I tried to sit down in the pool, not realizing the high salt content would force me to float. My partner He helped me slowly ease in. We floated together, me death-gripping one of his hands and his other arm beneath my back. Just as I was settling in, I felt someone's leg bump against mine. Panic again. Hyperventilating. My partner gently floated us away from the person, giving me space to try again. Eventually, I was able to close my eyes for a couple of minutes.

The real turning point at the spa? At lunch, someone with a visible disability and their support person sat near us. She looked totally relaxed, unburdened, and was navigating the spa in her own way, which meant I could too.

Our ice cream cones. Mine was gingerbread chai and pumpkin pie!

After that, things shifted for me. We tried more pools (I preferred the warm ones), a dry sauna, and even went back to the salt pool, where I only normally held my partner’s hand this time. I even woke myself up with a big snore. Progress!

We capped the day off with the most amazing ice cream from the cutest small business. They absolutely nailed customer experience, even with a massive lineup. The entrepreneur part of my brain was delighted.

The next day, we visited Parliament Hill, where I nerded out hard. Just putting it out there ... one day, I'll be presenting in the Committee Room, advocating for the neurodivergent and disability communities. Because of ongoing renovations and restorations to the House of Commons, I’ve still only seen it from the outside, but we’re already planning a return trip when it reopens in 2031.

Parliament Hill (with crazy messy hair lol)

The rest of our vacation was slower and cozier: local backroads, mom-and-pop shops, chosen family, and day trips. I still did a bit of work in the evenings, but I didn't have to mask much.

✨ Why I’m sharing this:

To convey the true experience of being a neurodivergent entrepreneur and attempting something "relaxing" yet unfamiliar. What may appear as mere indecisiveness or awkwardness externally is often a complex emotional and sensory negotiation internally.

Sometimes we just need someone to walk us through it. To pick up on the subtle signs when we’re struggling. To accept us fully as we are. And sometimes? We just need to see someone else navigating things differently… so we know we’re not alone.

I see you. I walk with you.

Your neurospicy bestie in business and life,