melt·down
/ˈmeltˌdoun/
noun: meltdown; plural noun: meltdowns
1. a disastrous event, especially a rapid fall in share prices.
“the 1987 stock market meltdown”
2. an outburst of severe emotional distress; a nervous breakdown.
“they wondered what could have triggered his meltdown”
3. an accident in a nuclear reactor in which the fuel overheats and melts the reactor core or shielding.
A meltdown is something that most autism parents know very well. Although definition #3 above seems like a rather fitting one, the correct answer in regards to autism is #2: “an outburst of severe emotional distress; a nervous breakdown.” For my son, who has difficulties with communication and sometimes severe anxiety, meltdowns became more frequent and more severe when he started middle school. Think of it as the perfect storm of puberty and a major transition from the more loving and protective elementary school environment to the dog-eat-dog world that is junior high. Add to this changes in the family dynamic, like divorce, new marriage, new baby, health issues, a change in address, poor school placement, and an inadequate IEP, and it was Meltdown City. I tried a lot of things: new doctors, new therapies, a change in medications, even had him tested for seizure disorder.
As he has gotten older, I realized that my son has two kinds of “meltdowns”. One kind is like an anxiety attack, and could be triggered by sensory overload or other stimuli. Sometimes they seem to come out of nowhere, any place, any time. If you’ve ever experienced an anxiety attack, you know how scary they can be. You feel out of control, out of sorts, your heart is pounding, you just don’t feel right at all, and it can be terrifying. Lucky for us, there are strategies we can use to calm down and regain control, although it isn’t always easy. For a child on the severe end of the autism spectrum like mine, teaching these self-soothing methods proves tricky. As a 12th grader, he is still trying to grasp the concept of learning to calm himself down. We use social stories, added it to his IEP, redirection, breathing, counting, music, and lots of love and understanding.
The other kind of meltdown my son has I believe is his way of communicating a problem. Since he is considered mostly non-verbal and cannot use his words to tell me what’s wrong, he uses his body to do the talking. And boy, is he loud. These meltdowns have been rather destructive. We had to do a lot of home repairs (patch holes he kicked in walls, replaced windows he broke, as well as doors, furniture, TVs and DVD players, dishes, toys, etc.) He also had a tendency to elope, run off, when he’d meltdown. Looking back, I can see that my son was trying to communicate to me that he did not want to go back to school. He’d throw away all of his homework and classwork, he’d start screaming if I packed his lunchbox, refused to get on the bus. When I still made him go to school, the meltdowns became more severe, even violent, because I wasn’t listening to what he was trying to say to me, nonverbally. Due to the severity and frequency of his meltdowns, our whole family lived at high alert/DEFCON-1 for years. His nerves were raw and so were everyone else’s in the house. I was emotionally and physically exhausted and frustrated, and so was he. He knew no other way to communicate, and I just could not understand. It was really taking a toll on the entire family. It was time for a new strategy.
I began to see a correlation between his moods and mine. If he thought I was upset with him because of a meltdown the day before, or if I didn’t smile at him and use my cheery voice first thing in the morning, he was more likely to have a meltdown that day. It wasn’t easy at first, but I had to learn that no matter what my mood was (tired, grumpy, sick, stressed out), I had to start every day with a smile. Every morning I began to greet him with a smile, no matter what happened the day before. He needed to know that he was loved, accepted, and safe. I have done this without fail for about 6 years now, and it’s made a big difference for him and the whole family. Incidents of violent and destructive meltdowns have drastically decreased at home. If you know anything about the Peaceful Parenting philosophy, I guess I was using it before I even knew what it was. I had to learn to regulate my own emotions and not wear them on my face or let them affect my tone. I learned how to better play Sherlock Holmes with my verbally limited son, following the clues to solve the Mystery of the Manic Mood. Did he blow up because he was sick, hungry, tired, toothache, sensory issues, fear of change, anxiety? I started building bridges with him, making a better connection and closer bond, making improvements from the inside out. I’ve had to earn his trust back because I realized that he likely thought I wasn’t listening to him when he was afraid or trying to communicate in his way that something wasn’t right and needed to change. I think Peaceful Parenting is something some of us parents of special needs kids naturally fall into. We learn pretty early on that yelling or having a stressful home environment negatively affects everyone who lives there. Making home a peaceful refuge can make a huge difference for everyone involved. A smile every morning to start the day off right costs us nothing and can give us quite the return. Showing your child unconditional love every single day and making them feel valued and accepted no matter what, is our job as parents. Love works.
