Inside a neurodivergent meltdown...

...They help me live a better life. Really.

Dear Friends,

I wrote recently on both my blog and my Psychology Today column about the benefits of neurodivergent meltdowns. (Benefits? Yes.)

Here’s how I define a neurodivergent meltdown:

A strong emotional response to sensory or emotional overload, caused by either the build-up of small events or one large event, that releases the emotional overload and allows the person to regulate their emotions.

Although meltdowns benefit neurodivergent people, they are rarely acceptable under our society’s norms.

We can’t just sit down on a park bench and have a cry when we get overwhelmed without freaking out the neighbors.

That’s why, in the story I wrote to give readers a peek inside a meltdown, the meltdown occurred in a bathroom, not out in the open.

Here’s an excerpt from the story:

I’m squatting on the floor, squeezed between the antique toilet and the textured wallpaper in the tiny water closet of the Congressional Country Club in Washington, D.C. My evening gown is scattered on the floor around me, and my face is pressed to my knees, which stifle my sobs.

My arms wrap around my legs, and I’m grateful I’m wearing sneakers under the dress, as they can grip the old tiles and hold me steady while I shake. My husband leans back against the tiny vanity, ready to help me when I ask for it.

I told him I just needed to melt down for a moment. Then I ran up the stairs, through a door into what was clearly a staff-only area, and dove into the tiny bathroom, tucking myself into the space to shake and sob.

Below my feet, I could feel the loud music from a wedding reception banging on the ceiling. The loud noise is part of what sent me away. The party is not the one we’re attending—no, tonight the country club is booked full. Our quieter party is in the room next door, our simpler music clanging against theirs. Too much.

Too many thoughts swirl in my head.

[To read the rest, go to my website.]

How about you? Have you ever had a neurodivergent meltdown?

Can you tell the difference between a meltdown (after which you usually feel better) and an anxiety or panic attack (after which you usually feel a whole lot worse)?

If you have meltdowns, do you feel ashamed after? I used to feel ashamed before I was diagnosed with autism in my early forties and learned to accept myself.

Accepting how our minds interact with the world can be truly eye-opening, but also difficult.

I’m here to tell you that you’re not alone.

-Katie