How Do I Human? And Other Questions I Can't Answer

If you’ve ever wondered whether you might be autistic but dismissed the idea because you “don’t have meltdowns,” I get it. That was me, too.

Until a couple of years ago, I thought autistic meltdowns were exactly what you see in the media—screaming, headbanging, total loss of control. I assumed they happened only to autistic people with higher support needs.

But the truth? I was having meltdowns multiple times a day without realising it. They just didn’t look like the stereotype I imagined.

Even when I worked in a school supporting autistic children through challenging moments, I didn’t make the connection. I related to their frustration deeply but chalked it up to being empathetic. In hindsight, maybe the fact I instinctively knew how to help should’ve been a clue—I was recognising my own internal experience in theirs.

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What Meltdowns Looks in My Family

My 5-year-old: Overwhelm hits him fast—tears, refusal to talk, collapse on the floor—and he’s back to normal in minutes.

My 3-year-old: He tries to self-regulate first, often by bouncing or headbutting me, but once he tips over, it’s hours of inconsolable crying.

Me: My meltdowns start with a strange pressure behind my eyes, like I’m slightly drunk and my vision can’t keep up. If I ignore it, irritability takes over. I’ll snap, rant, and eventually shut down completely.

For years, I thought this was just me being “difficult.” But my husband noticed the pattern long before I did—especially in supermarkets.

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My Supermarket Meltdown Clue

Supermarkets were my hidden meltdown trigger. I didn’t feel overwhelmed as such—I just got inexplicably angry about everything. Bright lights, noise, endless decisions… by the bread aisle, I’d demand we leave immediately.

One day, I wore my kids’ noise-cancelling ear defenders as an experiment. For the first time ever, I got through the shop without losing it. That was my lightbulb moment: I wasn’t an arsehole—I just couldn’t cope with the sensory load.

Read more: Inside the Meltdown: What It Really Feels Like (From an Autistic Adult)

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The Invisible Side of Overwhelm

Not all reactions look the same. Mine often look like:

• Rubbing my eyes and sighing as tension builds
• Feeling like everything is “unfair”
• Snapping over tiny inconveniences

For others, it might be going silent, crying, or withdrawing completely. Every autistic person’s reaction to overwhelm is valid—whether it’s loud or quiet.

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What’s Helped Me

• Noise reduction: Ear defenders and noise-cancelling headphones
• Exit strategies: Giving myself permission to leave early
• Sensory tools: Sunglasses, fidgets, comfortable textures
• Acceptance: Understanding this isn’t bad behaviour—it’s my brain asking for a break

For decades, I didn’t know what overwhelm felt like because I never had the chance to reach a calm baseline. Now that I do, I can spot the shift and step in before things escalate.

Read more: I’m Not Being Difficult — I’m Autistic: Learning to Honour My Needs Without Guilt

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Why This Matters

Believing that only “some” autistic people have meltdowns stops many of us from recognising ourselves. The reality is: overwhelm can be subtle, internal, and easily dismissed—by others and by ourselves.

If you’re questioning whether you might be autistic, don’t rule it out just because you don’t fit the stereotype. Your meltdown might not look like screaming—it might look like supermarket rage, silent withdrawal, or a simmering internal pressure that finally boils over into tears.

And whatever it looks like, it’s valid.