In this post, I want to cover three points: How to understand autistic meltdown, how it can manifest (or not), and why I’ve come to appreciate crying.
Have you ever locked yourself in a bathroom at work just to get a moment of peace? Or to cry or scream? Have you ever been so angry, you felt like throwing the computer in front of you out the window?
Has something like this ever happened to you just because your surroundings were too loud, too bright, or otherwise overstimulating for your senses for too long?
Have you ever been glad you didn’t act on that impulse right away? Do you know the pride of holding back that inner storm of impressions and emotions?
What is an autistic meltdown?
An autistic meltdown, also sometimes referred to as an autonomic storm, is a reaction to feelings of intense overwhelm, distress, or dysregulation. (source)
Put more simply: intense overwhelm.
Seeking out a quiet, enclosed space (like a bathroom) is therefore not a bad idea. Unless fresh air, open space, or wind help you more. Or something else entirely. It’s something you first have to figure out for yourself. And no matter which place or aid works for you, you still have to actually reach it in that moment of intensity.
Some studies (like this one: link) describe autism as being marked by more densely connected synapses. Sounds great: more routes to choose from.
But in the case of overstimulation, it actually makes everything harder. The stimulus travels more easily (I imagine it like an avalanche in my brain). The farther this avalanche spreads, the harder it becomes to find “functional” parts you can use to stabilise yourself in a socially acceptable way.
Because everything in your head is screaming and scratching. Almost always, a mental carousel kicks in too. It’s like a hyperfocus on the most embarrassing day of your life. Thanks, but I really didn’t ask for seconds…
What does it look like for me?
Honestly, I’m a pretty bad example. Why, I’ll explain in a moment, but first, what I exactly mean.
An autistic meltdown is often outwardly quiet for me, but inwardly all the louder. In that moment, something grabs my entire attention. And I don’t just mean my senses. I mean my whole mind.
While I normally have at least three parallel “voices” in my head and can easily choose which idea or topic to focus on, during a meltdown almost nothing works anymore. It’s a compulsion that takes over. Like a tiny needle’s eye that, for a brief stretch, all pathways must pass through.
There’s not much else to do but to push through and ride it out. I often cry while it happens because a whole jumble of emotions is flying around. In that moment, I let my thoughts, feelings, or needs, for example, for a soft sweater (sensory safety) or to change rooms (spatial change), simply happen.
Of course, it’s not that simple, especially outside my own four walls. I understood very early on (before I was five years old) how “inappropriate” these “outbursts” were seen to be. And I learned to avoid them.
I avoided meltdowns by focusing on something else to distract myself from it, or giving my emotions space early on to let off steam.
In the past, I did everything I could to not stand out which meant doing everything to control myself. I became very skilled at noticing early warning signs in myself and moving into prevention mode. But avoiding isn’t a long-term solution. It’s more of a tool to get myself to safety before I make myself vulnerable in front of others.
Today, I say: a meltdown is not a failure. It’s a moment when the system protects itself from collapse. And that’s exactly how it should be understood – by ourselves and by those around us.
Why tears?
For me, crying is one of the fastest ways to process. I’ve come to accept that I never cry for no reason. Instead, I believe there’s purpose in every tear.
It happens just as much when I’m home alone as in intense situations, and has little to do with seeking attention. If anything, I had to learn to let go of my tears in front of others.
Crying is not the same as an autistic meltdown. Still, the two often go hand in hand. If I recognise the early signs in time, crying helps me move through a meltdown faster. And often, after a meltdown, I’ve learned something about myself or a situation.
It may sound strange, but with tears I process not only different emotions but also massive amounts of sensory input.
My face always carries subtitles, but especially when I cry. Perhaps this mirror of my thoughts to the outside is exactly what helps me better understand my inside when I’m crying.
Do I like being observed while crying now?
No, not necessarily… although, it depends! It can create a special kind of closeness. That, I’ve come to appreciate. And I’ve learned to witness myself in those moments or at least to stay fully present with myself.
Do you know those kinds of situations? Do you recognise yourself in this? Have you learned to stand by yourself in such moments?
I’d love to hear how you move through your moments of overwhelm and what helps you stay kind to yourself.
I’m Monika from Flow by Wolff. I work with tech leaders to turn neurodiversity inclusion into innovation. Together, we design structures that support diverse minds, prevent burnout and boreout, and unlock creative potential. My focus: clear processes, inclusive leadership, and environments where ideas have space to form, grow, and thrive.