Autism Meltdown Quotes

We have to keep other people at arm's length, because letting them see our hyperfixations, meltdowns, obsessions, and outbursts could mean losing their respect. But locking ourselves away means we can't ever be fully loved.

Life-transforming ideas have always come to me through books.” - Bell Hooks

I'm not making sense, and I'm so tired of having to make sense. I've even more tired of talking about how OK or not OK I am. I'm not. I've failed. That's it. People should stop going on about it.

Can you tell me how a meltdown feels?” She tilted her head to stare at the ceiling. “Itchy. And bad. You get so mad at yourself, because you know the thing that set you off isn’t worth the reaction you’re having, but you can’t control it. It’s like . . . knocking over a cup of tea. It goes everywhere, staining as it spreads, but you can’t take it back. You just have to get over yourself and mop up the mess.

The more frantic and desperate I become, the more I punch myself: by now, it’s no longer about punishing my brain, it’s about punishing myself for having lost the plot so woefully. If, however, people don’t flip out at the sight of me and understand next time you see someone like me in mid-meltdown, I’d ask you to conduct yourself with this knowledge.

It's 2022 as I write this and I'm still waiting to find someone I respect to speak openly and in detail about meltdowns. I'm really annoyed that I have to be the one to do this.

I have spent my life clinging to my own shores for safety. Flying like a bird above the storm waters of my own body, too scared to land. I guess that is why the sea floods in to visit me. I have been too frightened to venture out into her depths alone. The central core of me is dark and churning, I can only sense it vaguely. It scares me with its power. As a late-diagnosed autistic woman, I realise that this experience is partly neurological…my sensory abilities are all hyper-aroused on the surface, and my nervous system melts down when it becomes overwhelmed in everyday places. But my ability to know what is going on within is flawed. Instead of an accurate information readout, there is a big, dark, unknowable mass within. I am sailing blind without map or lighthouse within my own skin. It feels a very scary place to have a life sentence. This is why I write: to attempt to find words for what this big scariness is, to try and find images to give form and name to the wild churning expanse.

Most of my housemates had ADHD, PTSD, bipolar, autism, or some combination of those. I might have been the only one who didn’t realize I was neurodivergent—that is, not neurotypical. In that house, for the first time since childhood, I didn’t feel like an introvert. I got energy from being around people, because I didn’t feel the need to play a role—I could just be. Stimming was common and accepted. People dressed however they liked. Meltdowns were an occasional part of life, not a big and scary event.

I have spent my life clinging to my own shores for safety. Flying like a bird above the storm waters of my own body, too scared to land. I guess that is why the sea floods in to visit me. I have been too frightened to venture out into her depths alone. The central core of me is dark and churning, I can only sense it vaguely. It scares me with its power. As a late-diagnosed autistic woman, I realise that this experience is partly neurological…my sensory abilities are all hyper-aroused on the surface, and my nervous system melts down when it becomes overwhelmed in everyday places. But my ability to know what is going on within is flawed. Instead of an accurate information readout, there is a big, dark, unknowable mass within. I am sailing blind without map or lighthouse within my own skin. It feels a very scary place to have a life sentence. This is why I write: to attempt to find words for what this big scariness is, to try and find images to give form and name to the wild churning expanse. Pearce, Lucy H.. She of the Sea

Let’s explore some key signs you should be watchful for: Unrelenting fatigue: Persistent exhaustion, even after adequate rest and sleep, is a key part of Autistic burnout. When grappling with burnout, your body may feel utterly exhausted, leaving you scrambling for energy to complete even the simplest tasks. Heightened sensory sensitivities: Sensitivity to sensory stimuli—be it noise, light, texture, or smell—intensifies during burnout, amplifying your susceptibility to sensory overload, meltdowns, and shutdowns. Sensory stimuli that used to feel manageable may now feel overwhelming. Skills and functioning decline: A conspicuous drop in skills like focusing, organizing, problem-solving, and speaking is another feature of burnout and makes social interactions more daunting. Emotional dysregulation: Burnout-induced dysregulation in your nervous and sensory systems hampers your ability to manage your emotions, resulting in intense emotions or emotional numbness. Increased anxiety, irritability, or feelings of being overwhelmed are common during burnout. Diminished tolerance for change: During burnout, your capacity to absorb and adapt to change wanes, and you may seek comfort in sameness and predictability. You might experience heightened distress in the face of the unexpected. Social isolation: Burnout can spark a retreat into solitude and diminish your ability to engage socially. You might withdraw from social interactions and lose motivation for once-enjoyed hobbies or activities. Masking: Burnout can throw a wrench in your masking abilities, and it can be confusing if you don’t understand what is happening! Interestingly, lots of adults don’t get their autism diagnosis until they are in burnout and have lost their ability to mask.

This person has no reservations about pushing the envelope to get what he wants, going so far as to stage meltdowns in public, or in the company of others. Sometimes, if a person like this doesn't get what they want, they will break things, throw things, hit people, threaten people, threaten to self-harm, use objects as weapons, etc. This behavior seldom has anything to do with autism, particularly when, in the presence of people of authority whom they have never met before, these offenders mind their manners... until they believe they have sized-up the person in authority. What

When I was 20 years old, I learned how much art can mean to people. I worked as a camp counselor for developmentally disabled youth and adults in the redwood forest near Santa Cruz, California. It was mostly for children with heavy autism-spectrum disorders and related conditions. There was a kid there, about 11 years old. He was fidgety, nervous, but generally happy and liked to play and explore. His nickname was "Crossing Lights" because every few seconds, he would become terribly uneasy and start saying "crossing lights...crossing lights PLEASE... CROSSING LIGHTS...PLEASE!!", screaming and crying to the point where he would be having a full mental meltdown. The only way to ease his distress was to draw a series of little symbols like this: (image shown) ...over and over again, constantly, and forever. If you stopped, he would gradually become disturbed and have a severe psychological attack. But if you kept drawing the little symbol, he was calm and peaceful, like a wave washing over him. Silence. Then, a few seconds later.. "Crossing lights... Crossing lights please..." I filled up probably thirty sheets of paper like this. Tragically, the entire camp was burnt down last year in the California wildfires. I am working on a fundraiser to help them rebuild everything.

Autism spectrum disorders: Screen-time reinforces brain pathways and tendencies specific to autism; it increases risk of regression; it limits or hinders development of language and social skills; it suppresses right brain and frontal lobe development; and it may therefore limit job, relationship, and independence potential as an adult.

I mean, we should probably have worked it out for ourselves, what with the lifelong obsession with Greek mythology and the rules and regulations and the need for quiet, dark rooms and the same restaurant and food over and over again and the sensory issues and the repetitive movements and the massive meltdowns, but we all just thought she was your bog-standard academic.

• Cognitive overload:  Ask yourself, “What new information did I encounter right before the meltdown?” Whatever it was, you may not have been able to process it quickly or thoroughly enough to maintain a feeling of control. Some examples include multitasking, changes of plan, holding multiple steps in memory, quick transitions, and surprises. It also takes mental effort to convert information from one form to another, like if your brain needs to turn verbal directions into a visual map. Something as simple as a question can cause cognitive overload if other ingredients are present. And if every ingredient is small, they can still add up.

Many autistic people are very good at hiding their autistic traits in public. People often don't see their real struggles or their meltdowns.

An Autistic meltdown is not: A tantrum. A tantrum is an act of manipulation. It is a physical and emotional “show” to put on to try and get someone to agree to your demands or desires by making them feel uneasy, confronted, confused, embarrassed or threatened by acting overdramatic. A tantrum is controllable; therefore it is not an Autistic meltdown. Acting selfishly. This is not a meltdown either. You can’t watch someone having an Autistic meltdown and think to yourself, Stop being so selfish! They can’t “stop” being anything. Acting out or attention-seeking behaviour. Again, not a meltdown but can be seen in both adults and children. Autistic children and adults can be susceptible to Autistic meltdowns for their entire life. So the whole only-Autistic-kids-can-have-meltdowns thing is not true. You can’t parent or punish Autistic meltdowns out of an Autistic person.

When a child or adult typically does well at school or in their workplace with no issues, but then explodes into disruptive meltdowns or raging anger once home in their ‘safe space’, it is a huge sign that they have been masking for the duration of the day. The energy it takes to mask and ‘fit in’ can be mentally and physically exhausting.

When I was disgusted by the textures of the unfamiliar food at sleepaway camp and went into a full-blown, sobbing meltdown over it, I got reprimanded for being a picky eater and a crybaby, and was forced to sit at the table all evening, until I gulped some cold ravioli down. When

not all women with Autism have the “female Autism” subtype. Plenty of Autistic women visibly self-stimulate, struggle to socialize, and experience meltdowns and shutdowns.

Autistic Burnout: A phenomenon commonly occurring in response to prolonged extreme stress from several possible factors. Some of these factors include—but are not limited to—suppressing traits (masking), overwhelming emotional and sensory demands, disruptive changes, intentional or unintentional personal physical neglect, or participation in the over-achievement cycle. This uniquely neurodivergent hell looks like increased executive dysfunction, increased illness, decreased motivation, decreased ability to perform self-care, decreased ability to mask autistic traits, an increase in meltdowns and shutdowns, being unable to communicate needs in a customary way, and may lead to significant mental health crises. Sometimes called neurodivergent burnout because many of us have multiple neurodivergencies.

Though many of us experience sensory issues, anxiety, meltdowns, and debilitating mental health symptoms, we push as much of that misery into the private realm as possible. Our elaborate veils of coping mechanisms and camouflaging can create the illusion we don’t need help. Often this comes at the expense of giving up on the areas of life where we might need assistance. We may eschew relationships, drop out of grueling academic programs, avoid working in fields that require networking and socializing, or completely disengage from activities that involve using our bodies, because we feel so detached and uncoordinated in them. Most of us are haunted by the sense there’s something “wrong” or “missing” in our lives—that we’re sacrificing far more of ourselves than other people in order to get by and receiving far less in return.

meltdowns or shutdowns: periods of intense emotional upset, often characterized by uncontrollable crying, physical withdrawal from the surrounding environment and/or reduction in verbal skills, often followed by a period of intense fatigue

Yet for those people born onto the autistic spectrum, this unedited, unfiltered and scary-as-all-hell reality is home. The functions that genetics bestows on the rest of us—the “editors”—as a birthright, people with autism must spend their lives learning how to simulate. It is an intellectual and emotional task of Herculean, Sisyphean and Titanic proportions, and if the autistic people who undertake it aren’t heroes, then I don’t know what heroism is, never mind that the heroes have no choice. Sentience itself is not so much a fact to be taken for granted, but a brick-by-brick, self-built construct requiring constant maintenance. As if this wasn’t a tall enough order, people with autism must survive in an outside world where “special needs” is playground slang for “retarded,” where meltdowns and panic attacks are viewed as tantrums, where disability allowance claimants are assumed by many to be welfare scroungers, and where British foreign policy can be described as “autistic” by a French minister. (M.