What Are "Meltdowns"?

The best answer I've ever heard to this question is from autisticdrift on tumblr (their tumblr is linked here).  Autisticdrift responded:

It’s different for everyone. Some people withdraw and get very quiet. Others appear to be really angry (throwing or hitting things, yelling, cursing). Others seem very sad/distressed (crying, sobbing, not talking or seeming inconsolable). Some people try to “disappear” by making themselves small, covering themselves with blankets or wedging themselves into a small hiding place. 

I don’t think there is a typical response across all people but I do think that each person has a response that is typical of them, if that makes sense.

For me, meltdowns start LOUD and ANGRY, with crying, yelling, throwing, and hitting.  Meltdowns are an out-of-body experience and I honestly don't comprehend myself or the situation when I'm having one.  I know I scream and cry and wail because I've seen it on video tape (my parents used to tape them when I was a kid because they didn't understand them and wanted to show my doctors) but I honestly have little recollection afterward.  I cry and I scream and I throw and then I shrink down into a tiny little quiet shell of myself.  I try to hide and make myself invisible.  

That is the progression of every meltdown I have ever had from early childhood until now.  

Meltdowns are a really unique experience and something that neurotypical individuals cannot usually understand.  

The most important thing I want to get across, though, is that meltdowns are not temper-tantrums.  Meltdowns are different.  Meltdowns are a response instigated by our unique neurochemistry.  They are not voluntary.  

When I am having a meltdown, I am not really there.  

Shampoo

I had a meltdown yesterday in a Save-On grocery store because I had to buy shampoo and I was afraid I couldn't afford it.  I could afford it.  I just didn't make that connection in my head.  And I had a pretty frightening meltdown that scared me.  I was so scared that I phoned my mother amidst my panicking.  She helped me calm down a bit, and then later, my boyfriend reminded me that there was nothing to worry about.
I hate anxiety.  I hate how anxiety can completely disable me in a fraction of a second and I suddenly feel like someone so far removed from myself.

I have a lot of things I want to talk about here, but today, I'm still in fear after my shampoo meltdown. I'm scared of the way I felt.  I'm scared of how helpless I became.  I'm scared of the amount of worry that was so suddenly in my system.  And I'm afraid of ever feeling that way again.

Today is a Bad Day

I will endeavor to write this gracefully, but I am feeling very little grace at the moment.

I am feeling chaos.  I am feeling like my world is spinning out of control.  I woke up later than I wanted to.  I owe a colleague five dollars but was unable to give it to her, since I woke up late.  My friend worked all day and even though she said we'd get together tonight, she's decided she'd rather be alone.  I put so much effort into an assignment and now I have to reformat it.  I have to do two loads of laundry, have dinner, and plan a social activity for tomorrow.  I have a lot of dishes to do and a shower to clean.  I also have a headache, which is rather unpleasant.

I am an intelligent person and I know that this is not enough to ruin a day.  But still, today's activities have been poorly organized and interspersed with bouts of crying.  I have sat and cried for so long today that I feel numb.  I am overwhelmed by the amount of things that thave not gone my way.  I cannot think straight.  I cannot be productive.  I am really struggling to be content at all in this day and that itself is giving me anxiety.  

I had a meltdown over nachos today.  And then another meltdown for no apparent reason.  I am bored and I am tired and I am hungry and I am grouchy.  

Meltdown Recovery

It is hard to recover from a bad brain day.  It is hard to hold your head up high when you still feel constricted in your chest, a throbbing and pounding pain in your head, and too many thoughts that you just can't control. It's hard to be calm, cool, and collected when your arms and hands are flapping and shaking in a way that draws everyone's negative attention toward you.  

Bad brain days are terrifying.  The physical pain associated with them is absolutely unbearable.  And when my brain gets cluttered, I can't think straight.  It is so scary to be unable to think. I know there are thoughts in my head and they're clawing to get out, but it's impossible to separate them from one another, as if they're all tangled awkwardly together.
When I am having a bad brain day, I become both physically and emotionally stressed.  I get anxious.  I get angry.  I lose myself in my brain.  I know I'm having thoughts - I can feel them - but I cannot decipher the things that I am thinking.  I can physically feel my blood pressure increasing.  I can feel thoughts bouncing around  chaotically in the entropy of my skull.
I don't really have any motivation for writing this.  I guess I just wanted to say that while melting down is an unfortunate consequence of autism for many people, it's something that we deal with and it's something that we experience regardless of our best efforts.  I guess I just wanted to say that, even though a meltdown itself might be more obvious, recovering from a meltdown or that awkward energy required to try to stave off another one is nearly impossible and takes a lot of effort.
I know my brain is different.  And frankly, I like my brain a lot.  If I did not have autism, I wouldn't be me, so I am not complaining.  I'm just saying that sometimes, autism interferes with my life.  And sometimes, people don't understand how taxing it can be when thing in my brain get swirled around until they're unrecognizable. Sometimes, people are angry with me when I don't act "normal."
That's what's frustrating for me: feeling uncomfortable and being misunderstood.  

Meltdowns Happen, People

Had a meltdown in class today.

Not the first time it’s happened.  But it’s pretty rare for me.

I started crying and stimming, but I suppose I didn’t fully “breakdown” until afterward, walking down the hallway, leaving the building, and sitting in the car.  

It sucked.  

It sucked because, despite whatever anybody wants to think, it’s not my fault.  I’ve been in segregated education (middle school) and integrated education (high school).  I’ve melted down in both.  And both were equally awkward.

I don’t want to cry and stim and wave my arms around and scream uncontrollably.  I don’t ever want to feel so angry and so frustrated and so terrified but not know why.  

I don’t know why I melt down.  I just know that sometimes I do.  And every time, I feel like I lose another friend.  And every time, I struggle to explain my neurochemistry.  And every time, I feel the need to defend my brain.

Meltdowns aren’t fun.