Well…

I just had a proper meltdown.

As in an ADHD/Autistic meltdown.

What does that look like? You might ask. You might not ask… I’m going to tell you anyway, because they’re kind of interesting, and I think people don’t really understand them.

They’re not amazing, let me tell you. I mean, if you were to ask me what I want for Christmas, a meltdown wouldn’t be on my Top 10 Gifts list… not even my Top 50!

I don’t think I’ve had a proper meltdown since a couple of years ago when I’d broken my spine skiing and I was literally unable to move.

Until recently, I didn’t really relate when autistic people talked about meltdowns. The whole concept of exploding uncontrollably in a public place didn’t relate to me (for some reason, a restaurant is where my brain pictures the stereotypical autistic meltdown). I feel like I’ve always been pretty well controlled.

It turns out that I’m more prone to “shutdowns”, which is a comparable mechanism where I suddenly find it almost impossible to speak, I retreat into my own head, and my social abilities fall to almost zero. I reckon I’ve had a lot of minor to medium shutdowns in social situations over the years… I actually had a minor one last night in the pub.

But now that I’ve learned how to recognize meltdowns… and I just had a meltdown… I can also identify them happening every so often in my past.

If you haven’t experienced a neurodivergent meltdown yourself, let me paint the picture for you of what it feels like inside (at least for me)…

Imagine you are driving down an open road in a turbo-speed HGV lorry.

Most of the time in life, you are pretty good at driving your lorry. It’s more complicated to drive than all the Vauxhall Corsas that most other people get to drive, but you have become an expert lorry driver over the years.

But, sometimes your just HGV doesn’t behave as it is supposed to…

When you touch the accelerator pedal, the lorry either immediately speeds ahead at 100 mph or crawls along sluggishly. With no warning, it can switch between the two states.

And the brakes just stop working.

Actually, my ADHD means that I never have working brakes anyway. The only ways to slow down are: run out of fuel, crash, or steer the vehicle onto a long, deep sandpit (which is my favourite metaphor for meditation on ADHD but exercise can also serve as a sandpit).

The more your HGV misbehaves, the harder it is to control. It doesn’t matter how skilled you are at driving it in the rest of your life.

And a meltdown?

In the moment of meltdown, the HGV suddenly roars forwards at 200 mph…

The brakes are totally broken. You try pushing down the brake pedal but it just flaps around uselessly.

You try to lift your foot from the accelerator pedal… but the pedal is stuck down pressing fully into the floor…

The only thing you can do is desperately try to steer this powerful vehicle so it weaves around the other cars and obstacles on the road.

But you’re an awesome driver…

Even in the midst of this chaotic, uncontrolled power, you have developed driving skills that equal those of a top military fighter pilot flying in a warzone.

Stopping the lorry is impossible.

Telling the lorry to “calm down” would be ridiculous.

With no brakes and a stuck-down accelerator pedal, you have only two options…

Keep steering this careening hell machine until it runs out of fuel…

Or strategically crash.

Maybe both.

This is a bit like the internal experience I’ve felt on the occasions when I have meltdowns.

I’ve had a meditation practice for almost 13 years, which I think helps me clearly watch this happening inside my mind during a meltdown… but there is basically nothing that I can do to stop it when it happens.

However, there are still things you can control in that moment.

My grandma (who we think was almost certainly neurodivergent), apparently used to say that when she was angry at our grandad, she would make sure to “only throw the bad plates at him, not the fancy plates.”

This can sound quite shocking. Surely throwing any plates is entirely unacceptable?

Well… it’s not ideal, of course.

But as she was someone with undiagnosed neurodivergence and a bunch of other mental health issues — that I think were probably partly caused by the neurodivergence, knowing what I know now — I think we have to be compassionate to my grandma.

If you can’t stop your out of control nervous system from throwing plates… at least make sure it’s not the fancy plates.

Even with my over a decade of meditation experience and years of self-development… the energy of my “meltdown HGV” is far too much for me to contain fully.

I have trained myself to do things that would only hurt me rather than people or objects, like slapping my hands into the walls.

I also shout loudly. Which, as a voice coach, I do in a way that is healthy for my voice.

I know it can be shocking to see… and can be shocking to hear me shouting, given that I have a very loud voice.

But actually it’s me being the best HGV driver that I can in those moments.

It’s me strategically letting some energy out of my out-of-control HGV so I can safely crash it into into a grassy verge.

How can we avoid meltdowns?

I’m not sure. Maybe it’s not possible. And maybe we shouldn’t want to avoid them completely.

I know that part of the strategy is building a life that supports us and allows us to thrive. So we don’t get to the point where our nervous system can’t take it any more.

I experienced such a supportive environment when I was in clown school last year. Despite the fact that I had a stressful time a few times at school, the combination of daily performance work, loving community, and intense physical exercise were ideal for helping me keep my nervous system in a balanced, happy place.

Thankfully, I don’t experience meltdowns very often. Maybe once every few years.

And it probably makes sense that I would have one right now, before Christmas.

Christmas (and being around family) are often tough for anyone, neurodivergent or not.

Right now, I know I need to be compassionate to myself in this moment… especially as the fallout of a meltdown is often Shame.

So… instead of being ashamed of the meltdown I just had, I’ve turned the experience into something a bit creative… this blog post.

If it was helpful for you, do let me know.

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