Neurodivergent ‘post-travel comedowns’ are real: Here’s how to cope

Nobody warns you about the after.

The glow of travel can be intoxicating: new sights, new foods, conversations that stick to your skin like perfume. You meet incredible people, have thought-provoking conversations and look at the world in a new way.

But once the bags are dumped in the hallway, the silence hits. The rush drains away, and what’s left can feel like a strange kind of emptiness that you really weren't prepared for. It’s a sense of loss and, depending on how emotionally invested you were in the trip, it can really hit you hard.

If you’re neurodivergent, that post-travel “come down” can be especially brutal. It’s not just jet lag, it’s a form of sensory whiplash. Days of overstimulation, broken routines, and emotional highs suddenly collide with the demand to get back to “real life”. Answer emails. Do laundry. Smile at colleagues. Pretend you didn’t just run a marathon with your nervous system.

The first thing you think is that you’re not strong enough, that you’re not equipped for travel and should just avoid it. How come everyone else is just getting on with their day but you’re a total wreck? Well, allow me to tell you why – because this “crash” is not a failure.

As someone who has Tourette Syndrome, ADHD and dyslexia, I know these feelings all too well. What’s happening is that your brain is recalibrating after operating on overdrive. It can be a transition, a moment to breathe, integrate, and gently carry parts of the trip back into everyday life. Instead of seeing it as the end, I’ve started seeing it as a bridge. And the bridge can be beautiful, if you let yourself cross it slowly.

Here are five ways I’ve learned to soften re-entry.

1. Give yourself a “landing day”

I protect the day after I return like sacred ground. No meetings. No social catch-ups. No errands that will push me straight back into overdrive. Instead, I carve out a “landing day”.

On that day, I give myself permission to move slowly. I unpack gradually instead of tearing through my suitcase. I cook a simple meal, often the same one each time, because routine is comforting. I let myself nap if I need it. Sometimes I’ll even spend the morning in pyjamas, wandering from task to task with no rush.

When you’ve got three loads of washing to do and feel a total “ick” about the fact you have no food, it can send you spiralling into such a foul mood. Avoid this, take it slow, take it calm and don’t overwhelm yourself.

Why does this help? For neurodivergent brains, predictability and recovery time are essential. This landing day gives you control over re-entry, rather than throwing you straight back into chaos.

2. Plan post-trip comfort rituals

After a trip, my brain often feels like it’s been shaken in a snow globe: bits of experience still whirling around, refusing to settle. Having a post-travel ritual helps ground me.

For me, it might be a long soak in the bath with lavender salts, or rewatching a series I know word for word. Sometimes it’s as simple as slipping into my softest jumper and brewing a cup of tea in the same mug I’ve used for years. These things seem small, but they create continuity. They remind me: this is home, this is safe, you can exhale now.

Why does it help? Familiar rituals signal safety and stability. They remind your nervous system that the overstimulation is over, and that you’re back in a place of calm.

3. Break down “catch-up” into bite-sized tasks

Coming home can feel like being ambushed. Suddenly, there are emails, laundry, bills, unpacking, the weekly shop, deadlines. It’s so easy to panic and try to bulldoze through it all in one heroic swoop, only to burn out halfway.

Now, I use what I call the three-task rule. I write down three things that absolutely need to be done on day one, usually something practical (unpack toiletries), something grounding (buy food for dinner), and something functional (check urgent emails). Everything else can wait.

Why does this help? For many of us, executive function is already stretched thin after travel so these small, achievable, structured steps help to reduce pressure and create a sense of progress without burnout.

Read more: How to spot the symptoms of burnout and experts’ advice to treat them

4. Process the emotional side of travel

Here’s something people rarely talk about: post-travel sadness is real. Sometimes it’s grief for the end of an adventure, other times it’s disappointment that the “real world” doesn’t feel as exciting. When I come back from a trip, I set aside time to look through photos, journal a few reflections, or even make a little scrapbook which allows me to enjoy the journey for longer, rather than abruptly shutting the door on it.

Many neurodivergent people wear our emotions on our sleeves and after a big and meaningful trip, that emotion takes time to digest, internalise and flow.

Why does it help? Neurodivergent people often experience emotions intensely so acknowledging those feelings, rather than dismissing them, creates closure and softens the crash.

5. Ease back into social plans

One of the biggest mistakes I used to make was saying “yes” to everything the week I returned. Dinner with friends, catch-up drinks, work socials … because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. But after days (or weeks) of high social energy on the road, what I actually needed was solitude. Now, I schedule social plans more sparingly after a trip, giving myself space to recharge first.

FOMO can seem real and the way we’re wired to think we often feel we’re letting people down if we don’t attend something. Don’t fall into that trap. Remember, you can only be at your best for others if you are being kind to yourself and looking out for yourself in the first place.

Why does this help? Social interaction is a massive energy drain when you’re already depleted. Remember, allowing yourself to say “not yet” is an act of self-preservation, not selfishness.

Read more: I’m a neurodiverse parent – here’s how I make travelling easier