Autism and the Dreaded Public Meltdown

A mother openly shares her feelings about public meltdowns.

This past weekend with my four-year-old daughter was a total success—not one tantrum or meltdown. No public displays of anger, no taking swats at other children. I am cautiously optimistic that perhaps this behavior is behind us; or so I’ve said many times before, only to have reality take a swing at my face.

You see, my daughter is on the autism spectrum. Tantrums and meltdowns, along with sleep, potty training, and delayed speech issues, have been a part of my existence since the day she was born.

I have slowly adjusted to the sleep deprivation, the necessity of planning everything in advance, the limitations to my social life—but for some reason, I cannot, will not, ever be okay with the public meltdowns.

While I can’t speak for all parents of children with autism, for me, public meltdowns are soul-crushing, humiliating, and mentally exhausting. No matter how much I plan in advance to try and prevent it, some minor, unforeseen circumstance becomes a trigger, and, once the public meltdown starts, there is almost nothing that can stop it.

The last major tantrum happened at a new bouncy castle place that had just opened a couple of weeks before. We had gone a few times; I had had a chance to scope out all of the potential triggers—or so I thought.

They decided to put down new mats at the bottom of my daughter’s favorite bouncy castle slide, as kids were coming down a little too fast. Well, that didn’t fly with my daughter, who started picking them up and taking them apart.

I used everything in my bag of tricks, but nothing could distract her from tearing up those mats. Again, another potential fun outing ended with us making a public spectacle and leaving in a hurry.

Why does this aspect of parenting a child on the autism spectrum rattle me the most? I guess mainly because it’s a very public shaming of my failures as a parent (or at least that’s how I perceive it).

I always feel like I should have done more to prevent it. Each time we add one more place to the long list of places we have to avoid, at least for a little while.

It also forces me to parent in a way that goes against my very nature. I am spontaneous, adventurous, and hate planning of any sort.

When you have a child on the autism spectrum, your life consists of routines, rituals, and things planned out way in advance. There is very little room for adventure. On the rare occasions when I allow myself to parent in a way that feels more like the real me, it usually blows up in my face.

So I try to save my “adventurous parenting” escapades for times and places where public meltdowns will not be a worry. Free play in our backyard where she can draw anywhere she wants to with chalk. Early morning jaunts to the park when no one is around so she doesn’t have to wait in line for the swing.

Because as much as she needs to be put in situations where she will learn the “proper” way to behave, I feel she also deserves to experience, on occasion, a freer and less structured way of life. Where she can just be herself, without judgment.