When autistic folks experience intense sensory overload, overwhelm, or dysregulation, it can trigger a meltdown. This is also called an autonomic storm:
“Too much information from sensory or cognitive stimuli triggers the automatic nervous system, which then signals to the brain that the person is in danger. This results in behaviours of distress, which can manifest in a variety of ways.”
For me, a meltdown generally involves crying and feeling like I can’t speak, move, or even breath. In the past, I sometimes confused these with panic attacks, which speaks to their intensity. Or, if I’m not in a safe place, I might silently shut down.
Now that I’m diagnosed, I’m seeing patterns in the leadup to meltdowns and shutdowns. Here are some of the top signs of autistic meltdown that I’ve observed in myself.
Not all autistic folks experience overwhelm in the same ways. If your experience differs, let me know in the comments!
Decreased Appetite
TW: ARFID. This is not medical advice!
For me, decreased appetite explains the refrain “Nothing sounds good.” When I am overstimulated, my appetite flees. Most of the time, I eat fairly well, and while I have some sensory preferences, it doesn’t keep me from getting enough to eat. That changes when I am reaching sensory overwhelm.
For example, after several days working in person, I come home without the slightest desire to eat dinner. Most foods sound horrible to me. Leftovers? Gross. Order a pizza? Still not appealing.
I’ve learned in these times to prioritize eating ANYTHING over eating well. If a Pop Tart sounds good, then it’s on the menu. My partner is great with this as well, offering a bite of something healthier without judging my Pop Tarts or plain noodles.
But if others aren’t around to cue me at mealtime, I might entirely forget to eat. This was a challenge in my first full-time job. I learned to put lunch on my calendar with an alarm, or else risk going most of the day without eating anything.
Since then, I’ve realized two things. First, if this becomes a regular occurrence, something big needs to change (5 years ago, it was my entire career). Second, if it is starting to happen on a one-off basis, like during a stressful week, then it’s time to deescalate. I’ll get into strategies in another post, but if I’m having trouble eating, I’m prioritizing more alone time, cancelling some plans, and reaching for my sensory supports.
Trouble Sleeping and Resting
Racing thoughts and a general “buzzing” feeling in my body can really interfere with rest and sleep when I’m nearing a meltdown. I might lie in bed for hours unable to sleep, looking with dread at the clock (which I no longer keep in my bedroom for that very reason). Even the lovely feeling of wanting a nap is spoiled by a restlessness I associate with sensory overload. I can’t nap, but I’m also too tired to engage in anything that actually interests me.
I still find that I can enjoy certain activities if they are more passive or repetitive. I can also get relief sometimes through exercise, a hot shower, or pressure, such as a weighted blanket. This input seems to even me out. But if I’m observing this feeling alongside any of the other signs, I might need to take more steps to walk it back.
Migraine Attacks
Some autistic folks, myself included, also have migraine attacks. And it’s way more than a headache. It’s a neurological disorder, and attacks can involve nausea, dizziness, visual auras, head pain, and much more.
For me, it’s a clear sign that I am headed for overwhelm when I get severe attacks. In the past, these could last weeks. I’d rally to teach a class or attend an event, then collapse back into bed with an ice pack and an eye mask. Until I rested, I wouldn’t be able to shake the symptoms. The worst was the vertigo. I’d feel like I was on a boat rocking back and forth (which also caused nausea).
I still sometimes get attacks for which I can’t identify a trigger. These might go away with some simple interventions. But recurring or extended attacks now stand out to me as overwhelm-related, and there’s some initial research along those lines.
I’ve realized that, while I can sometimes push through the pain and discomfort, it comes at a high cost. Pay now at one price, or pay later with interest.
Difficulty Masking
When I reach the limits of overwhelm while in public, I feel like I can’t control my face anymore. My smile muscles are tired. My eyes sometimes start to fill with tears. Occasionally, I might even feel the urge to laugh at an inappropriate time.
These feelings of stress and strain are signs of autistic meltdown impending. And the awareness of it can sometimes exacerbate things. I feel anxious. What if I cry in front of all my students/colleagues/fellow travelers on the airplane?
All I want at this point is to hide. If I have a hat or sunglasses, I now use those both to feel safer and to reduce sensory input.
Managing Signs of Autistic Meltdown
Now that I have more awareness of triggers and signs, I’m able to try different supports for myself before I hit a meltdown. It’s a relief to understand what was happening to me in those moments. I used to judge myself, and fear what others might think if they saw me when I was reaching that point. Around my chosen safe people I can let go of that embarrassment and prioritize well-being over appearances. With support and more knowledge, I can now see these signs as important information from my body about what I need.
What signs of autistic meltdown have you observed? Let me know in the comments!
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