It's never just about a sandwich

Adult meltdowns on the autism spectrum

JUST TAKE A BREATH

It is 6:30 am on Saturday morning. My bedroom door flings upon and Allen barges into the room, loudly proclaiming: "I STOPPED BREATHING LAST NIGHT!!!"

I am still on the edge of sleep, so I ask the wrong question. "How do you know you stopped breathing?"

This incenses my son. "THAT'S your question?" he asks. "Shouldn't the question be WHY did I stop breathing?"

I try again. "Okay. Why did you stop breathing?"

"I don't know!" he shouts and slams the door. He stalks into the bathroom where he carries on an argument for twenty minutes with whatever forces were controlling his breathing. I know Allen did not really stop breathing last night, but lack of proper breathing can precede a meltdown. It is clear to me that he is now breathing pretty well. 

1-2-3- MELTDOWN!

I, on the other hand, am holding my breath. I creep downstairs and wait on the couch. This episode, like all autistic meltdowns, is out of Allen's control. As Ellen Dalmayne writes in her blog "Autism Rights Together," it's never just one thing that causes the total loss of control characterizing the autistic meltdown. As Allen has gotten older, he has gained more control over these upheavals, but we have not abandoned them altogether.

According to PsychCentral (2017), meltdowns are caused by faulty sensory perceptions. The overload of stimuli is so great that the brain cannot balance out all the senses.  Like many on the ASD spectrum, Allen is "low normal" on the intelligence quotient scale. He is "high functioning" and manages to hold down a full time job, but processing input overwhelms him.

The banging and the shouting have slowed by now and I hear the bathroom door open. We have come to a pivotal moment in this meltdown. With any luck, it will now wind itself down. Allen continues to mutter his litany of complaints as he stomps down the hallway. But the tone is quieter. No walls are banged.

This is, as Dalmayne says, "not just about a sandwich." Allen has had two other issues this week that were not within his careful control. On Monday, he thought--mistakenly-that his SSA check had been lost. And on Friday, he got a bill for his car insurance with a greater payment than usual due.

REGAINING CONTROL

He stalks into the kitchen and opens the freezer. I  hear the crackling of a wrapper and the door of the microwave opens. Allen comes back into the living room. "Going for coffee," he says and leaves without slamming the door.  Progress.

When I walk into the kitchen to start my tea and feed the cat, I see that Allen has left the water in the sink running. I know why.  It's about control. A meltdown, for a child or an adult, forcefully wrests away carefully contained power. In Allen's case, he spends the work week trying to decipher social cues that are foreign to him. There are many things in his life over which he has no control. Particularly in the throes of a meltdown.

But he can turn on and off the sink.

I am thinking about going up to my office and grading some student essays when I spy Allen coming up the walk, WaWa coffee cup in hand. He opens the door, says, “Sorry about that, Mom,” and walks into the kitchen where he turns off the sink.

Because now he is back in control.