Getting an autism diagnosis late in life introduced me to a number of new concepts: meltdown, shutdown, burnout and sensory overload. Applied to my life retrospectively these made perfect sense, even though I hadn’t recognised what was going on at the time.
#Thread
#autism
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I dislike the term ‘meltdown’ but I’m not sure why. It’s not a bad description of situations where emotions/senses take hold and cause a loss of control. For me meltdowns are generally triggered by acutely stressful events happening on top of a long term build up of tension.
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There’s nothing conscious or deliberate about a meltdown. It’s an entirely involuntary event. I’ve never had a fit but I imagine the feeling of going into one might be similar. The after effects of a meltdown for me are absolute exhaustion and a sense of shock and shame.
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I realised in my teenage years that having a meltdown affected other people very badly. From this point on I tried to avoid it happening, but this was impossible. It generally happened at home, not at school or at work. Perhaps it caught hold of me when I let my guard down.
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Back then I had no idea I was autistic so there was no way of really understanding what was going on. I just thought I was overly emotional and volatile. I’d warn new partners that I could be difficult to live with, then walk on egg shells trying not to get upset.
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It was a defining moment in a relationship if I had a meltdown. How would the other person react? What would they make of it? What would the consequences be? Back then I had no way of knowing these distressing episodes were largely preventable.
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When I got my autism diagnosis I also got a diagram of a wall made of blocks. Each block represented a different demand (work, relationship, caring commitment, household tasks). If the wall got too high I’d be overwhelmed. I needed a buffer zone to cope with unexpected events.
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I also had to avoid sensory overload. I now knew I had heightened sensitivity to noise (especially conflicting and competing noise sources like multiple conversations, or music and speech combined). If the shower water smelt of chemicals in the morning I knew I was stressed.
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I was learning a whole new vocabulary and way of managing things. Energy accounting and spoons theory didn’t appeal to me initially, even though they made sense. I wanted to outrun autism and prove it wrong. Conserving energy seemed such a miserably constrained way to live.
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It took another big burnout for me to see energy accounting in more positive terms, as meltdown and burnout prevention. Spontaneity and occasional ‘excess’ are still possible as long as I avoid piling up so many commitments it tips me over the edge.
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Shutdown is an interesting concept. At particularly stressful times in my life I have retreated into silence and found it very comforting. If nothing is said, nothing can be misconstrued. I have also felt the need to run away or “elope” in American autistic terminology.
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To some extent I was trying to escape from difficult situations and people, but I was also running away to spend time with myself. During my autism assessment I came to understand that some time alone each day is a real need, not a want. I simply cannot manage without it.
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I’m living more carefully now. I’m far more conscious of the need for self care, and conscientious about not over committing myself. I sometimes take propranolol as a precaution if I’m dealing with extra stressful things. I try to monitor my stress levels through my senses.
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Positive sensory input is just as important as limiting the negative kind. Time spent walking on the beach or hills rebalances me. I’m energised by solitude or the company of one special person. Socialising in groups quickly drains me and means I have to plug myself back in.
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