Enter a YouTube search for ‘autistic meltdown’ and you’ve likely come across several types of videos on the subject. First are videos by parents of autistic teens and children and how said parents deal with an autistic meltdown. Second are explanation of a meltdown by people who are on the spectrum.
The third, which is less common, is via third party, a short news report on the travails of families with autistic children. Fourth and finally are increasing calls to end posting of autistic meltdown videos altogether.
I agree—somewhat—with those asking that videos of autistic children melting down should not be uploaded to the internet. The children have no say in the matter. They have no control over what they are doing or what is happening. I suppose the parents or caregivers must be at wits-end and looking for support or others in a similar situation, but is it really in their interest to go to the online public square?
I approve of the second type of video, obviously. The third sort? Well, that’s the news. Sometimes it’s even informative.
What struck me is the lack of information on the other autistic meltdown, the shutdown.
If a meltdown is a volcano, then a shutdown is like a blizzard—the power goes off, the streets are impassable, schools and businesses are shut, and neighbor is cut off from neighbor. In short, everything stops and nothing works. Everything is frozen in place.
I’m not an expert on the matter, but I have personal experience. As a child I had autistic meltdowns, most of which involved fights with other children, though I don’t remember if the fight started the meltdown or vice versa. Which came first, the fist or the fit? But I also recall an incident triggered by a grade school play. I was tired of playing the Pilgrim Father and the endless rehearsals for our third-grade Thanksgiving presentation.
I grew older and by eleven or twelve I realized meltdowns only made things worse for me, and so meltdowns gave way to shutdowns, which are somewhat more socially acceptable—I think.
An autistic shutdown is essentially the autistic malfunctioning. The lights are on, but nobody is home, the program is no longer responding, the broadcast day has suddenly ended. They avoid eye contact and may go mute, offering only one or two-word responses to questions, and detailed answers are impossible. Further input is like pouring water into a full bucket. You’ll receive notice when they’re back online.
My shutdowns are triggered involuntarily; suddenly I’m the Scarecrow and I have no brain. It’s usually in response to a mistake or social error I make and the negative reaction that follows. I short out and it looks like I’m being obstinate or difficult. What is happening is that I literally cannot think at that moment.
I also shutdown if someone makes me suddenly angry; the more favorably disposed I am toward that person, the more likely I bite my tongue. But even that comes with fine print, and if you continue to annoy me in the same way after I ask you not to, you get the third autistic reaction: the putdown. And some of these putdowns are very pointed.
Experts suggest isolation and a quiet, dimly lit space for an autistic in shutdown.
For me, it’s either bed or the couch with the lights out and some form of ASMR playing in the background, light rain or a fire crackling. Sooner or later the cat joins me. My mind starts to decompress, and things begin to flow again. Perspective reasserts itself. I either mentally dissect the situation or put it away until morning, and place my hand on the cat to feel it purring.
Mike Minnis is a guest blogger and client. His books can be purchased on Amazon. Visit his website at: www.michaelminnisbooks.com/index.htm
The third, which is less common, is via third party, a short news report on the travails of families with autistic children. Fourth and finally are increasing calls to end posting of autistic meltdown videos altogether.
I agree—somewhat—with those asking that videos of autistic children melting down should not be uploaded to the internet. The children have no say in the matter. They have no control over what they are doing or what is happening. I suppose the parents or caregivers must be at wits-end and looking for support or others in a similar situation, but is it really in their interest to go to the online public square?
I approve of the second type of video, obviously. The third sort? Well, that’s the news. Sometimes it’s even informative.
What struck me is the lack of information on the other autistic meltdown, the shutdown.
If a meltdown is a volcano, then a shutdown is like a blizzard—the power goes off, the streets are impassable, schools and businesses are shut, and neighbor is cut off from neighbor. In short, everything stops and nothing works. Everything is frozen in place.
I’m not an expert on the matter, but I have personal experience. As a child I had autistic meltdowns, most of which involved fights with other children, though I don’t remember if the fight started the meltdown or vice versa. Which came first, the fist or the fit? But I also recall an incident triggered by a grade school play. I was tired of playing the Pilgrim Father and the endless rehearsals for our third-grade Thanksgiving presentation.
I grew older and by eleven or twelve I realized meltdowns only made things worse for me, and so meltdowns gave way to shutdowns, which are somewhat more socially acceptable—I think.
An autistic shutdown is essentially the autistic malfunctioning. The lights are on, but nobody is home, the program is no longer responding, the broadcast day has suddenly ended. They avoid eye contact and may go mute, offering only one or two-word responses to questions, and detailed answers are impossible. Further input is like pouring water into a full bucket. You’ll receive notice when they’re back online.
My shutdowns are triggered involuntarily; suddenly I’m the Scarecrow and I have no brain. It’s usually in response to a mistake or social error I make and the negative reaction that follows. I short out and it looks like I’m being obstinate or difficult. What is happening is that I literally cannot think at that moment.
I also shutdown if someone makes me suddenly angry; the more favorably disposed I am toward that person, the more likely I bite my tongue. But even that comes with fine print, and if you continue to annoy me in the same way after I ask you not to, you get the third autistic reaction: the putdown. And some of these putdowns are very pointed.
Experts suggest isolation and a quiet, dimly lit space for an autistic in shutdown.
For me, it’s either bed or the couch with the lights out and some form of ASMR playing in the background, light rain or a fire crackling. Sooner or later the cat joins me. My mind starts to decompress, and things begin to flow again. Perspective reasserts itself. I either mentally dissect the situation or put it away until morning, and place my hand on the cat to feel it purring.
Mike Minnis is a guest blogger and client. His books can be purchased on Amazon. Visit his website at: www.michaelminnisbooks.com/index.htm
