J had his first major breakdown since camp today. He took the green outside trashcan to the end of the driveway since the garbage is collected Wednesday mornings. He somehow tipped the can over and half the trash bags spilled out, amongst other items.
The first thing he did was start to cry, which honestly neither surprised me or bothered me. I knew it would be a painful process getting all the trash back into the bin, so I went upstairs to put Tiny down for a nap before coming back outside. Stormtrooper had righted the can so that it was standing again, which was great. The can was still full of trash and would have been difficult for J to put back upright, especially while crying.
Stormy and Iron Man went to fix the ramp up to our shed while I stayed at the end of the driveway to deal with the trash. We live on a cul-de-sac so at least while J had his tantrum we didn't have to worry about cars or any passersby.
I told him he would not be able to go inside until all the trash was picked up. He didn't want to do it. There were flies around the garbage, and J's biggest fear is anything regarding bugs and insects. He was hysterical, tears and snotty nose, screaming and flailing. I kept my calm and did just what the therapist said - to have him complete the task through to the end without giving into the tantrum.
I mentally divided up everything on the ground and pulled out my cell phone. I set the timer for one minute and told J which pieces to pick up and gave him one minute to do it. At first he refused, he kept his feet firmly planted on the ground, and screamed. The first thing he picked up was a small box, which he tried to throw into the trash can, but he missed and it fell back on the ground. At that point a fly flew right by his ear and he took off running around the cul-de-sac, screaming. Not crying or yelling. But screaming in fear, a sound you would expect to hear from someone in agony.
Two of our neighbors came out of their respective houses and watched. I ignored them and waited for J to stop running. Then I made him come stand back next to me. I put him in a time-out outside, which was more to stop the overstimulation and calm him down. He faced the side of the house, hands by his sides, eyes closed, and I told him to breathe. He stood there for a few minutes, and once he stopped shaking and crying, we went back down to the bottom of the driveway to continue to pick up the trash.
We were down at the cul-de-sac for about an hour. There were four kitchen-sized trash bags, one small box, three Starbucks cups, and a couple of envelopes from discarded mail. That's all that fell out and yet it still took that long.
I tried to find the words to convey how this meltdown was, but words cannot describe the extent of tho particular tantrum. Crying and screaming, of course, but if you were not there, screaming is not an adequate word. I stayed calm and talked him through picking up all the pieces off the ground, held him next to me as protection when he was flailing his arm, trying to shoo away phantom flies. Time sort of stopped in my brain when it was all happening. I knew our neighbors were probably wondering what on earth was happening at our house, but it was more important to help J through this.
Afterwards, my husband and I joked that one day our neighbors may call the police if they hear another meltdown like that. It's no telling what they think is going on. Unfortunately, it wasn't much of a joke and is actually a small fear in the back of my mind. When people first see J, they see someone who looks normal and perhaps even speaks normally. They don't see the autism until later, which in this case may be more of a curse than a blessing.
Also afterwards, I didn't allow myself to calm down, I just refocused on the family chores that we were doing when the meltdown began. Once all three boys were in bed, Stormy and I watched television and then went up to bed. I kept thinking about it and playing the image of J running around the cul-de-sac while screaming as though on repeat. Sometimes these things are have huge effects on me, sometimes it takes its toll on me mentally. It's so hard to stay strong all the time because autism isn't something that goes away. When J has a good day, it doesn't mean he had a day without autism symptoms, it just means he had a day where those symptoms weren't overwhelming, a day without tantrums. But even the good days have small bouts of stress. It's a never-ending thing.
While J had his meltdown, Stormtrooper took the opportunity to have a conversation with Iron Man about autism. He pointed out that J's meltdown and tears were directly linked to his autism.
"Does that look like fun? Does that look normal?"
Of course he said no, and Stormtrooper explained that just because J got to go to summer camp for kids with autism doesn't mean that autism is fun. J wasn't having fun, he was scared and upset and sad and angry. He was such a mix bag of emotions that he was nearly impossible to calm down. Iron Man forgets about those times when he says things like, "I wish I had autism." Stormy said it seemed to click a little more with him that having autism isn't something to want, isn't something to be jealous of. For a little kid, I can understand the frustration where your brother gets a lot of attention because of his antics, where he gets to go to summer camp, and gets to get special line-jumper passes at Universal Studios and Disney World. However, I do find it disappointing that he has difficulty separation the so-called "perks" from the obvious hardships and downsides to having autism. I think the understanding will grow the older he gets, but it will be something we continue to work on with him.
We were supposed to go to our autism group get-together, but we had to cancel because of the meltdown. I'm sure that they understood since all of their children also have autism, however it is still one of those realities that not all parents understand. I've had friends who don't understand, friends who hear the phrase, "We're going to be late because J is having a tantrum," and wonder why I let my nine-year-old be such a brat. God forbid we have to cancel something. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen. Thankfully we do have a close-knit group of friends and family who understand about J and don't question his bad days, they accept them as a part of our reality.
Maybe one day I will find the correct words to fully describe how terrible this particular meltdown was, but I am glad that it's over. Hopefully our next tantrum will wait a while. I don't know if I can handle any more tears.
