The tendency to leap to the worst possible conclusion—the “everything will be ruined” option—is known as catastrophizing. Like perfectionism, it’s a common trait of ASD and closely tied to black and white thinking… Autistic individuals are supposed to be bad at generalizing but when it comes to catastrophizing, we’re experts… Thinking, thinking, thinking. That’s what catastrophizing is, right? A bunch of thoughts, one worse than the next, feeding off each other… I don’t understand why, but catastrophizing has a self-soothing effect, even as it makes me feel terrible… I can look at all the logical reasons that I’ve listed to justify how detrimental and unproductive catastrophizing is, but then I get to the last point and I’m right back where I started.   (Cynthia Kim – Nerdy, Shy and Socially Inappropriate: A User Guide to an Asperger Life [UK Kindle Edition])

I could have written all of the above myself… I honestly thought that something was wrong with me because I am so fucking guilty of doing this on an almost daily basis; it’s how I function (or not actually function at all?).  This was quite possibly the most difficult chapter to read so far in this book because it was like being faced with hard truths, but at the same time, I was being validated that the way that I think is actually more associated with Asperger’s than just on its own.  If anything, I feel like the more I read, the more I’m just writing my own diagnosis.  I would feel so much better if I could get this actual assessment started sooner rather than later, but I just cannot afford to pay to go privately to get this done, so I have to wait for the NHS to be able to see me.

Having lost my temper a few times recently with all the mortgage nonsense and having to put up with the daily annoyances of living with a chronically-untidy individual who takes no notice of the impact on their seemingly harmless foibles on someone with suspected AS, when I read the following excerpt from the book, I felt like Cynthia had written my own User Guide to a Meltdown.  If only I’d had this when I was a child, as a stroppy teenager, and as an adult having to deal with more than she expected to… it would have made the resultant flipouts/tantrums/meltdowns less traumatic for all involved.  I suppose knowing now is better than not knowing at all, but my god, this is in the simplest language possible and is just a perfect explanation of what it feels like and what I want from those around me trying to provide comfort and calmness.

What I don’t want to hear:

• “It’s okay.” [It’s not.]
• “You need to pull yourself together.” [I will, when I’m ready.]
• “Everything will be fine.” [I know.]

What I need:

• space
• time
• absence of judgment.

Please don’t ask me if I want to talk about it, because:

• there’s nothing to talk about
• I don’t have the resources necessary for talking.

“Will comforting me help?” [No.]
“Do I want the meltdown to be over?” [Yes, but not prematurely.]
“Would I like a hug?” [No.]
“Am I in danger?” [No. I’m conscious of the boundary between stimming and serious self-harm.]
“Do I want company?” [If you’re okay with sitting silently beside me.]
“Can you do anything to make me feel better?” [Probably not. But you can avoid doing the things that will make it worse.]

Meltdowns are embarrassing. They are a total loss of control. They are humiliating. They make me feel like a child. They are raw, unfiltered exposure.

What I need when I’m winding down:

• deep pressure
• quiet
• understanding
• to pretend it never happened.

(Cynthia Kim – Nerdy, Shy and Socially Inappropriate: A User Guide to an Asperger Life [UK Kindle Edition])