What I Mean When I Say I'm Autistic: Unpuzzling a Life on the Autism Spectrum

by Annie Kotowicz

A meltdown doesn’t always mean that I’m upset. Often, it simply means that I’m depleted.

People often find autistic meltdowns confusing, and ask why we’re overreacting to such a small thing. Sometimes, it isn’t about the thing in question at all.

Overdoing something (overthinking, oversharing, etc.) means doing it too much, in comparison to some standard. Before we can agree that someone is overreacting, we have to agree on the standard to which we’re comparing them. That standard might be how they would react if they were having a better day, or how most people would react.

But the standard I prefer to use is the size of the feeling. A big reaction to a big feeling isn’t an overreaction—it’s an accurate reaction. It’s only overreacting if it’s a big reaction to a small feeling, because then it isn’t communicating how the person really feels.

I believe, for those of us who experience life intensely, that underreacting is much more common. We start out reacting proportionately to our feelings as children, then dampen our expressiveness over time when it repeatedly gets labeled as an overreaction. Still, there ar...

I often come across stories where a stranger goes out of their way to help an autistic child through a meltdown. The parent posts the heroic and heartwarming tale on social media, and it goes viral. But these stories frustrate me, because they usually miss why the child was having the meltdown in the first place.

When an autistic child has a public meltdown, it means they don’t have the strength to handle the environment, the actions asked of them, or both. When someone steps in to save the day, I notice that it’s usually by engaging the child with their special interest, helping them move to a calmer place, or just staying present to reassure them that it’s safe to feel that way.

It can take a lot of self-control to be the calm in the storm when someone you love is having a big reaction to a seemingly small trigger. It’s wonderful if your emotions can be an anchor for them to flail around, until they’re finally able to collapse into your peace—but if not, that’s okay. They have the right to express their feelings, but you also have the right to feel safe. If their storm is stronger than your calm, then time apart protects you both. The same is true from within the storm. My reactions are a form of communication, but I often find myself among people who don’t speak the language of meltdowns or know how to handle them. In that situation, I find that it’s better to step away. It takes longer to calm myself without help, but it’s necessary if the available helpers are strangers or acquaintances who are likely to misunderstand me when I’m upset.

If it seems hard to figure out an autistic meltdown from the outside, it can be hard from the inside, too. Mid-meltdown is no time for sleuthing, but a later review can help identify causes and avoid them in the future.

Here are three ingredients that may contribute to a meltdown, with questions to help you consider if that ingredient applies to a recent meltdown that you’re evaluating. • Burnout: Ask yourself, “What unusual circumstances may have sapped my strength in the day leading up to the meltdown?” The answer may include difficult tasks, extra socializing, new environments, unfamiliar foods, or poor sleep. Some call the result “having an empty bucket.” Some call it “being low on spoons,” a metaphor that I’ll discuss more in the chapter on Optimizing. I usually call it “feeling fragile.” Whatever you call it, less strength means less resilience, making you more susceptible to a meltdown when new stressors arise. • Sensory overload: Another ingredient to consider is intense sensory input. Ask yourself, “What did I see, hear, taste, smell, and feel right before the meltdown?” However, this can be a hard question to answer accurately if you’ve often been told that your sensory pain is not a big deal. If none of your answers to the sensory question feel like they ought to be a problem, try asking this instead: “What memories do I have of people telling me something shouldn’t hurt or is barely noticeable?” If people made fun of you for flinching at raindrops, you might have water sensitivity. If they acted incredulous that you could hear a TV on mute, then you might have audio sensitivity. Unpack what surprises others about you, and you may discover hidden sensory needs. • Cognitive ove...