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Abstract

ferent ways. I’m more likely to experience shutdown if I’m emotionally overwhelmed because it’s just so much harder to articulate my way through it. People experiencing meltdowns might find themselves unable to hold back a flood of tears or feel an urge to to scream or hit something.Meltdowns can be triggered by many things, with the source of overwhelm sensory, social or emotional and quite often a mixture of these things. As <a href="https://www.autism.org.uk/advice-and-guidance/stories/stories-from-the-spectrum-sumita-majumdar">one Autistic writer explained</a>, it can feel as though the layers keep building up too fast for the brain to keep track of them as they multiply out of control.For me, sensory overload is more likely to be an aggravating factor than the cause of a meltdown. I suspect this is the case for many Autistic adults because we have developed a capacity to adjust our sensory environment, whereas the social and emotional stuff can still seem beyond our grasp at times.Stress and anxiety are the drivers of meltdowns for me. There have been times in my life when I just felt angry all the time. With the magic hindsight that comes with an autism diagnosis, I realise that this coincided with periods of heightened stress. Somehow irritation and frustration manifested as anger and I found myself lashing out at strangers more so than those close to me. Although it wasn’t really about emotions, it struck at my ability to manage them.If I’m stressed or anxious, my threshold for becoming overwhelmed is lower and things that wouldn’t usually bother me become intolerable. And sensitivity to external stimuli is ramped up even further as a meltdown approaches. In discussion about autistic meltdowns, the lead up to one is often referred to as “the rumbling stage”.There’s not always a build up to meltdowns: they can come on very quickly if you are confronted by several triggering factors at once. There was something very clear cut about this one; its escalation rapid and unmistakable. Other times, a meltdown can creep up on you through the cumulative effect of a series of events, each of them unremarkable in isolation.The scavenger incident was basically a cocktail of triggers rather than a grazing platter. My personal space was invaded; rules and procedures carefully followed were disregarded; my plans derailed by abrupt change; the bitter injustice of misplaced entitlement; not feeling heard or understood; my concerns not being taken seriously and the anxiety bred by uncertainty. Add the fundamental challenge in processing it all in real time and it’s no wonder I screamed.So how to you come down from a meltdown?Back inside the safety of my four walls, it was time to de-compress.I was bouncing around like a cat on a hot tin roof. My body was flooded with adrenaline, my heart rate elevated and my mouth dry. Ideally I’d burn it off through vigorous physical exercise but with the gym and swimming pool closed due to Covid, that hadn’t been an option for some time.I used to joke that exercise was my medication. But in the absence of a proper exercise regime, it’s hit home just how vital it is to my wellbeing. I’m loathe to chip away any further at the emergency pack of valium prescribed by my GP.With my thoughts ricocheting like toddlers on a jumping castle, it’s impossible to do anything requiring deliberation. So I reach for things that are grounding and familiar. Repetitive tasks are my go-to and a pile of crusty washing up becomes an unlikely ally.Eventually

Options

the excess adrenaline fizzles out as the tension in every muscle of my body unknots itself and the throbbing behind my right eye subsides. Eventually I return to equilibrium.The meltdown in front of my house was totally unconstrained by obligations to social decorum.Not caring what those two thugs thought of me provided an unusual freedom. But usually there is some concession to other people’s expectations, even at our most overwhelmed and distressed. We take ourselves off to the bedroom, office or bathroom before internally combusting. Recently I exited a work Zoom meeting prematurely, I hurriedly explaining that “my connection dropped out”.As late-diagnosed Autistic adults, we’ve spent a lifetime holding it in, staying calm and trying to appear normal. We’ve been conditioned to put up with things that make us uncomfortable so that we don’t make others uncomfortable. We accommodate others in a way that is far disproportionate to any accommodation we’re afforded. We put on a brave face and push through. But it’s not sustainable and inevitably something happens to tip the balance.We are ever-conscious of being condemned as drama queens who overreact to apparently trivial events. As children we were labelled as tantrum throwing brats, trouble makers or just plain difficult.All the literature about meltdowns will tell you that they are very different from tantrums. Yet these messages internalised in childhood have plagued me well into adulthood.People only see the outward expression of a meltdown, not the chain of events leading up to it or the inner turmoil that it unleashes. There’s no way you can truly appreciate the frightening and disorienting abyss of your world rapidly spinning out of control unless you have been through it.There’s no controlling the behaviour of obnoxious dickheads and you never know when they’re going to cross your path.Since I know that I’m more susceptible to meltdowns if I’m stressed, the key is maintaining a baseline of calm that comes with a solid self-care practice. This is much harder in a pandemic when we’re all living in pressure cookers and have fewer options for respite from it. More and more I’m giving in to the urge to scream, albeit in a controlled environment.When you’re already under pressure, you’ve got less to draw on to regulate your emotional responses. There’s no buffer so the stress ends up being absorbed by the body. That’s why it’s so important for us to tune into what is going on for us physically; to recognise the signs and what they are telling us.These days when I feel the stress building during a workday, I don’t try to push through but remove myself to go for a walk or find a household job to do. If I have an irresistible urge to expend physical energy, that is exactly what I need to do. For many people, being quiet and still helps but I find that my mind will just continue to fixate on whatever is going on if I don’t find someway to burn off the agitation.I’ve worked hard to achieve a level of self-awareness that eluded me pre-diagnosis. Understanding how my neurology shapes the way I interact with my environment empowers me to anticipate, respond to and weather the inevitable. And if there’s the occasional well-targeted scream once in a while, that’s okay too.Thank you for reading! Did you know you can <a href="https://justinel999.medium.com/membership">sign up to become a Medium member</a> and enjoy unlimited stories and support writers like me for $5 per month?</article></body>

The Anatomy Of An Adult Autistic Meltdown

Let me tell you about one of mine

I’m standing at my kitchen sink, hands moving through the water to perform one of the most reassuringly routine and familiar tasks I know. Power ballads of the 1980s are coursing through my headphones as I attempt to drive out the frantic mental noise that has moved in.

Moments before, I had been swept into a tornado of toxic human interaction that I had no way of foreseeing.

First, a bit of context. Based in Sydney, Australia, I was one month into a Covid-19 lockdown which has since stretched to three. Face-to-face interactions with anyone have been few and far between and then only those in my innermost orbit.

So I wasn’t expecting a confrontation with an obnoxious stranger out the front of my house. I was putting my stuff on the nature strip for the council pick up as night fell so as to avoid the scavengers the website warned me about. While lining it all up in the prescribed sections for metals, furniture and general household items, a truck pulled up in front of me.

A man wearing a high-vis vest stepped out and without skipping a beat, picked up an electric fan. Another man was in the drivers seat. Confused, I asked if they were from the council because the pick up wasn’t until the morning. The words were barely out of my mouth before I realised that they were not council workers. They were scavengers who were arrogant enough to think they were doing something legitimate.

“You can’t take my stuff”, I said to high-vis man. “Put it back”. But he countered with “Yes I can, it’s free for the taking once it’s on the footpath”. Then me: “No, that’s not right. It’s mine until the council takes it and I don’t give you permission to take it”. Then in case it wasn’t clear, “PUT MY STUFF BACK!”.

As he used his bulky frame to move into my space, I felt the terror of a situation spinning out of my control. Spit escaped his mouth and hit my cheek as he put his unmasked face right up near mine and barked at me. This was my cue to totally lose my shit. “Leave me alone!” I screamed. “Go away. NOW!” I hoped that the emergence of at least one curious neighbour might be enough to scatter them. But no-one stirred. I screamed and I kept screaming with everything I had because I was powerless to do anything else.

And to top it all off, he told me to chill out.

After they took what they wanted and drove off, I grasped a tiny kernel of power as I noted their registration plate and called the police. They would be pulled up and fined for breaking Covid-19 restrictions. Order would be restored.

But I was a long way from order being restored in my inner world. There was no doubt in my mind that I had just experienced a meltdown.

A meltdown is essentially an intense response to an overwhelming situation and is all too familiar if you’re Autistic or close to someone who is. Although described as the opposite of a shutdown where a person withdraws and becomes non-communicative, each involves the same mechanism. They are just expressed in different ways. I’m more likely to experience shutdown if I’m emotionally overwhelmed because it’s just so much harder to articulate my way through it. People experiencing meltdowns might find themselves unable to hold back a flood of tears or feel an urge to to scream or hit something.

Meltdowns can be triggered by many things, with the source of overwhelm sensory, social or emotional and quite often a mixture of these things. As one Autistic writer explained, it can feel as though the layers keep building up too fast for the brain to keep track of them as they multiply out of control.

For me, sensory overload is more likely to be an aggravating factor than the cause of a meltdown. I suspect this is the case for many Autistic adults because we have developed a capacity to adjust our sensory environment, whereas the social and emotional stuff can still seem beyond our grasp at times.

Stress and anxiety are the drivers of meltdowns for me. There have been times in my life when I just felt angry all the time. With the magic hindsight that comes with an autism diagnosis, I realise that this coincided with periods of heightened stress. Somehow irritation and frustration manifested as anger and I found myself lashing out at strangers more so than those close to me. Although it wasn’t really about emotions, it struck at my ability to manage them.

If I’m stressed or anxious, my threshold for becoming overwhelmed is lower and things that wouldn’t usually bother me become intolerable. And sensitivity to external stimuli is ramped up even further as a meltdown approaches. In discussion about autistic meltdowns, the lead up to one is often referred to as “the rumbling stage”.

There’s not always a build up to meltdowns: they can come on very quickly if you are confronted by several triggering factors at once. There was something very clear cut about this one; its escalation rapid and unmistakable. Other times, a meltdown can creep up on you through the cumulative effect of a series of events, each of them unremarkable in isolation.

The scavenger incident was basically a cocktail of triggers rather than a grazing platter. My personal space was invaded; rules and procedures carefully followed were disregarded; my plans derailed by abrupt change; the bitter injustice of misplaced entitlement; not feeling heard or understood; my concerns not being taken seriously and the anxiety bred by uncertainty. Add the fundamental challenge in processing it all in real time and it’s no wonder I screamed.

So how to you come down from a meltdown?

Back inside the safety of my four walls, it was time to de-compress.

I was bouncing around like a cat on a hot tin roof. My body was flooded with adrenaline, my heart rate elevated and my mouth dry. Ideally I’d burn it off through vigorous physical exercise but with the gym and swimming pool closed due to Covid, that hadn’t been an option for some time.

I used to joke that exercise was my medication. But in the absence of a proper exercise regime, it’s hit home just how vital it is to my wellbeing. I’m loathe to chip away any further at the emergency pack of valium prescribed by my GP.

With my thoughts ricocheting like toddlers on a jumping castle, it’s impossible to do anything requiring deliberation. So I reach for things that are grounding and familiar. Repetitive tasks are my go-to and a pile of crusty washing up becomes an unlikely ally.

Eventually the excess adrenaline fizzles out as the tension in every muscle of my body unknots itself and the throbbing behind my right eye subsides. Eventually I return to equilibrium.

The meltdown in front of my house was totally unconstrained by obligations to social decorum.

Not caring what those two thugs thought of me provided an unusual freedom. But usually there is some concession to other people’s expectations, even at our most overwhelmed and distressed. We take ourselves off to the bedroom, office or bathroom before internally combusting. Recently I exited a work Zoom meeting prematurely, I hurriedly explaining that “my connection dropped out”.

As late-diagnosed Autistic adults, we’ve spent a lifetime holding it in, staying calm and trying to appear normal. We’ve been conditioned to put up with things that make us uncomfortable so that we don’t make others uncomfortable. We accommodate others in a way that is far disproportionate to any accommodation we’re afforded. We put on a brave face and push through. But it’s not sustainable and inevitably something happens to tip the balance.

We are ever-conscious of being condemned as drama queens who overreact to apparently trivial events. As children we were labelled as tantrum throwing brats, trouble makers or just plain difficult.

All the literature about meltdowns will tell you that they are very different from tantrums. Yet these messages internalised in childhood have plagued me well into adulthood.

People only see the outward expression of a meltdown, not the chain of events leading up to it or the inner turmoil that it unleashes. There’s no way you can truly appreciate the frightening and disorienting abyss of your world rapidly spinning out of control unless you have been through it.

There’s no controlling the behaviour of obnoxious dickheads and you never know when they’re going to cross your path.

Since I know that I’m more susceptible to meltdowns if I’m stressed, the key is maintaining a baseline of calm that comes with a solid self-care practice. This is much harder in a pandemic when we’re all living in pressure cookers and have fewer options for respite from it. More and more I’m giving in to the urge to scream, albeit in a controlled environment.

When you’re already under pressure, you’ve got less to draw on to regulate your emotional responses. There’s no buffer so the stress ends up being absorbed by the body. That’s why it’s so important for us to tune into what is going on for us physically; to recognise the signs and what they are telling us.

These days when I feel the stress building during a workday, I don’t try to push through but remove myself to go for a walk or find a household job to do. If I have an irresistible urge to expend physical energy, that is exactly what I need to do. For many people, being quiet and still helps but I find that my mind will just continue to fixate on whatever is going on if I don’t find someway to burn off the agitation.

I’ve worked hard to achieve a level of self-awareness that eluded me pre-diagnosis. Understanding how my neurology shapes the way I interact with my environment empowers me to anticipate, respond to and weather the inevitable. And if there’s the occasional well-targeted scream once in a while, that’s okay too.

Thank you for reading! Did you know you can sign up to become a Medium member and enjoy unlimited stories and support writers like me for $5 per month?