I have long known that overwhelm, often sensory in nature, can antecede a meltdown. But I only recently found out that the feeling of being unable to escape is a prominent component of that dynamic.
This realization has transfigured my life.
Along with a studied devotion to integrating that new understanding, I have been trying to figure out how I managed to miss this information despite working in the field for 20 years.
Because it is glaringly clear in the light of this new dawn that I have been melting down when I feel trapped, and that has readjusted my estimations about the balance with which the various spectra control me.
You know that chorus of angels that you heard the other day, melodically singing “Nooo shiiiiit!” from on high? Yeah, well, that wry hallelujah was joyously noised in response to my finally identifying this (frankly disabling) difference in myself... as well as thematic variations in some members of my family.
So those mocking angels can now get on with their regular work, and I can spend some time wondering how I – me, in specific, given my line of work and everything else – could have missed this crucial piece of information for so very long.
Turns out that there are some specific reasons underlying my ignorance, whose identification might be helpful for some of you to learn about... reasons beyond my known trait of just not thinking about some things until I think to think about them.
* * *
To begin with, there are four hallmarks of autism that get drummed into anyone whose scope of practice overlaps autism (albeit they can get all mooshed up in different ways by different sources). They are well familiar to many of you:
Social interaction mismatches
Restricted interests or behaviors (including repetition)
Idiosyncratic communication
Sensory out-of-whackness
There is plasticity here; for example, some communication has a social function, some repetitive behavior is tied to sensory orchestration, and so on (which contributes to the mooshedness).
Crucially, for each item on that list, a meltdown is held to be caused by the inherent, increasingly painful experience of the respective overwhelm itself, and not the contextual inability to escape that pain.
Which is some misleading bullshit; that is to say, I can manifest a high tolerance for the pain inherent in any of those hallmarks, if it is my choice. Sometimes (for example) it feels so important to communicate a particular message that it is well worth the tradeoff of enduring some intense discomfort; in stark contrast, however, if a conversation starts to tank and I am being held in place (helpless and hopeless), then a meltdown is virtually inevitable.
It’s similar to the difference between a meltdown being blamed on a fear of (a) “spiders” versus (b) “an inability to escape a spider”; that is to say, some people have no problem at all looking at a spider on a web in the garden, but they freak out if they notice that they are shut up in a car with one.
Exposure therapy (and the like) can help someone to get closer to spiders without melting down, but it won’t quell the pain of a surprise-elicited shock reflex upon suddenly feeling trapped with one.
Despite these crucial differences, phobias still get defined and described only as a fear of the thing itself.
Now, I have long been thoroughly familiar with that distinction. So why did I never apply it to escalations, and so to myself? Or perhaps to myself, and then give greater consideration to my being autistic?
Funny you should ask.
* * *
Among many other things, I am a Speech-Language Pathologist and an Assistive Technology Professional. I work in a Life Skills program where the students all face moderate-to-profound cognitive and concomitant physical disabilities. Starting about a decade ago, part of my service came to include the classrooms that host those students who need the most intense levels of emotional and behavioral support. For all of those students, meltdowns (or something like them) run a frequent risk of putting people in harm’s way (and blocking access to education).
As an SLP, I know that meltdowns can occur due to communication frustrations.
As an ATP, I know that meltdowns can occur due to sensory overwhelm (and other things that represent frustrating obstacles to equitable access).
I help to create sensory safe spaces. I provide the tools that support a student’s navigable access to lesser stress, and greater regulation. I help people to communicate about experiencing a mounting sense of whelm. They might want to change their environment (with or without such tools), or they might need to change environments altogether (such as taking a break, maybe in a safe space).
When that change is successful, the student does escape the torment; however, that escape has the appearance of an ancillary consequence of achieving the ostensible goal, which was to communicate the need, or to modify the environment so as not to be so punishing. The escape is not treated as the focal goal.
Or at least it didn’t seem that way to me.
Was everyone else unaware?
And if anyone knew, then why didn’t they clue me in?
* * *
I work closely with autism and behavior consultants. If anyone had been likely to know about this escape thing, it would have been one or more of them.
Had they ever said anything to me? Had I ignored the clues?
We’d create communication systems together that would help a student to express their needs, but no one ever suggested including a message like, “I am feeling trapped.”
We made sure that students could go to a safe space when they were feeling overwhelmed, rather than making sure that they could escape the classroom; in fact, we worked to prevent elopement.
We never talked about meltdowns as being a consequence of an inability to access elopement.
“And why not,” I have since asked.
For some, it is just so obvious that they never thought to check my understanding. There are others, though, who – like me – never thought about it.
So let’s all think about it from now on.
And tell other people.
Ya know... just in case.
* * *
I suppose that’s really all that I have to say.
It seems like plenty.
It’s not terribly complicated, once you think about it.
A simple change in training might help to keep this from happening with other people.
Please, and thank you.