Sense of Justice and Meltdowns/Shutdowns

You may have heard the phrase, “autistic sense of justice.”

If you have, maybe you took it to mean that autistic people always follow the rules.

Maybe you’ve heard that autistic people can’t lie.¹

Here’s what “autistic sense of justice” means to me.

I have a history of getting absolutely irate over rules being applied unevenly. From dress codes that are only enforced when the clothes in question are on a girl, especially a girl with big boobs, to rules about returns that are thrown out the window for the loudest complaining customers, to laws being twisted in favour of those with the most money and power, I cannot let seem to just “let it go.”

I am deeply uncomfortable in many circumstances where rules are not followed, especially if I either understand the rule and think it’s a worthwhile one, or don’t understand the reasoning behind the rule and suspect there might be something I’m missing. 

This has not always served me well. More than once,² I’ve gotten deeply involved in a community, had a falling out with the people in charge, and ended up leaving the community altogether because I couldn’t bear to be there anymore. Each time, the things I got upset about didn’t seem to make sense or matter to the rest of the group.

Another thing that’s not actually in the diagnostic criteria but is a pretty well-known (if perhaps not well-understood by the neurotypical public) feature of autism is meltdowns. I’ve experienced more than a few meltdowns, as well the internalized equivalent, shutdowns, in my life.

For me, a meltdown usually looks like uncontrollable tears and sometimes an attempt to physically escape from whatever the most immediate and apparent cause is. I have run crying from a house and hopped out of a car at a stop sign³ without remotely understanding why… until recently.

In a shutdown, on the other hand, it feels like I can’t hold my thoughts inside my head. I can’t make sense of what’s going on around me and things said to me, especially questions, feel like heavy shoves against my brain.  I may struggle to speak. Overall, it’s a little like being so tired you can’t stay awake any longer, if that feeling also felt exceptionally loud. When I was young, it happened frequently enough that I had a name for it: “dream mode.” I later relabelled it as dissociation. Now I have another name for it.⁴

But whether the manifestation is internal or external, it comes about as a result of overwhelm. It’s not the result of any one problem – one bit of sensory input, one moment of social discomfort, or one thing out of place. It’s the culmination of a series of instances or periods of distress, building on each other until I just can’t anymore.

Let’s break down an example.

That campground meltdown I mentioned? Well, the trip began with preexisting anxiety. We were waiting for an email about whether or not we would get our dog, Echo, and cell service at the campground was extremely spotty (only in some places and only some of the time.)

When we arrived, the people we were camping with started out by flouting the campground’s rules about number of cars allowed on a single site. Camp staff came by and asked that one of the cars be moved to the parking lot down the street, to which someone responded that they were just unloading and they’d move afterwards. (This was a lie.)⁵

Next up: caterpillars. They were everywhere that year. Dropping out of trees, crawling up our legs, covering our chairs and tents. It seemed like every few seconds another one would appear.

Added complication: heavy social interaction. My safe limit is about one and a half to two hours⁶ and we were camping with a group for the weekend.

Final straw: getting into a car to go to the beach. As I may or may not have mentioned in another post,⁷ if I’m already stressed, being in a moving vehicle can be just too much for me.

I had to escape. The next time the car stopped, I got out. Adam followed me and we walked the short distance back to the campsite. I had a cry and then a nap.

At the time, neither of us knew why I reacted like this. The people we were camping with still don’t know.⁸ But this is one of many reasons I am grateful to have this diagnosis. Now that I know more about myself, I am less likely to end up melting (or shutting) down. I have at least a chance of identifying these feelings before they pile up to the point of no return. It doesn’t mean I live a life without meltdowns and shutdowns, but they are certainly less frequent.

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¹ Which is, of course, a lie. Personally, I just don’t like them very much.

² I can think of at least three times without even trying very hard.

³ It was at a campground, so it was the only car around and going very, very slow.

⁴ Shutdown, that is.

⁵ See the aforementioned “sense of justice” for why this was distressing to me.

⁶ For people that I’m comfortable with!

⁷ I thought I had, but I can’t find it now.

⁸ They just think I’m crazy. I think I am okay with that?

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1. AUTISM IN MY LIFE
2. SOCIAL-EMOTIONAL RECIPROCITY
3. NONVERBAL COMMUNICATIVE BEHAVIOURS
4. RELATIONSHIPS
5. STIMMING
6. SAMENESS AND ROUTINES 
7. SPECIAL INTERESTS 
8. SENSORY SENSITIVITIES
9. SENSE OF JUSTICE AND MELTDOWNS/SHUTDOWNS ← you are here!