Autism & Triggers

Sometimes, in case I'm falling asleep at the Autism wheel, Finian reminds me of his neurodivergence by having a meltdown.  It's a loud memo he sends me now and again to keep my spectrum senses sharp.  Nobody needs as complacent Autism Mammy.

A meltdown is different to a tantrum.  

In a tantrum, the person has one eye on the observer to check the effectiveness of their theatrics.  In a meltdown, the person is so overwhelmed that they..... well...... melt down; they don't need, or even notice, an audience.  Tantrums have purpose; meltdowns are an involuntary response to sensory overload.  A meltdown is not about being belligerent, manipulative or obstructive.  It's about being so fraught with unprocessed experiences and emotions that they erupt with apparently random violence.  They're exhausting, scary and not fun for anybody.

Emotional regulation is tricky at the best of times, but throw Autism into the mix, and maybe some excessive social demands, and it doesn't take long for the perfect storm to be whipped up.

The trouble autism parents have is that we don't always see them coming.  

On a good day, we notice escalating behaviours in our kids.  This gives us a chance to make environmental changes, or introduce calming practices, to minimise the distress.  

On a bad day, a meltdown bitchslaps us with the subtlety of a wet haddock.  

Neurotypicals can usually identify their triggers fairly easily.  We (mostly) have skills to help us manage dysregulated emotions.  It's not always so clear for those on the spectrum. It can take hours, or even days, for an experience to be processed as an emotional response.  This is what happened Finian two days ago.

At the weekend, Finian had a meltdown that'd make the love child of Elton John and Mariah Carey blush.  I didn't see it coming.

On the surface, it seemed to abruptly detonate without warning; one minute he was pottering about scripting Angelina Ballerina..... the next he was screaming into the void, flinging himself around our home with ferocity.  It lasted a couple of hours.  I dealt with it by meeting his heights of fury with depths of calm.  Co-regulation, the willingness to quietly sit in the storm with our kids, is best practice.  It always passes in the end.  

Often, I'm unable to pinpoint the trigger to Finian's meltdowns.  This time, though, I eventually figured it out.

Earlier that day we went out for a walk, followed by the promise of a kiddie ride in a local shopping centre.  I hadn't factored in that the shopping centres were closed because it was Easter Sunday.  The kiddie ride didn't happen.  Finian was disappointed, we had chats and a cuddle, and I forgot about it within ten minutes.  About six hours later, Finian remembered.  His experience of the world being unpredictable, unsafe and abandoning was too much to express in limited words, so they found release in a screaming, self-harming cacophony of raw awfulness.  

If we listen properly to our Autistic loved ones, the triggers to their emotional pain hide in plain sight.  In hindsight, Finian had been chatting about locked cars;  if I had been listening well, I would have spotted the metaphor for powerlessness and being denied access to something.

This isn't about self reproach; it's about being willing to learn.  If our kids are a cryptic crossword, it makes sense to pay attention to the symbols and metaphors they communicate in.  

Triggers are not something to fear, but should be recognised as welcome signs of rough winds approaching.  Paying close attention gives us a little ability to contain the incoming storm.  Whether typical or divergent, challenges to our world expectations are deeply triggering; noticing and working with them makes a lot of sense in this crazy world.