Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Code, Dew, and Death Threats

Well, just about an hour ago, I was busy pounding away on some code for my Coding III course (JavaScript, gag!).  I was getting pretty frustrated, as is typical when I go to work on this stuff. HTML and CSS made perfect sense to me, but JS is from another world.

At the same time, my mom was trying to clean the windows on the opposite end of my room (I sleep in the former attic of the house, so it's one big room, my space divided only by furniture.  She was turning on the vacuum cleaner intermittently. One minute of hypersensitivity inducing noise, then she would turn it off, go downstairs, come back up, and do it again. After a few rotations of this, and struggling to figure out the code while still maintaining a chat room, well...

I told her that it would be nice if she warned me before turning on the cleaner, which would give me enough time to get out my earbud headphones and protect myself from the meltdown-triggering noise.  She remembered my issue in that area, and agreed to remind me. Cool :).

Well, as time wore on, I got more and more uncomfortable, more stressed out, and more sensory defensive. Pretty soon, I was feeling myself starting to shut down; I wasn't able to move as well and could feel myself starting to turn snappy (mentally, don't know if anyone would have been able to see this).  Eventually, my mom asked me if I could help her with something, and I really wanted to do it, but my system was now officially fried. Poor mom, I just snapped at her and yelled out "WHAT?!?"

Well, I tried to calm back down and apologize, but she started talking, asking me when I was going to get out of her house.  The voice cut right through me though, I was pretty darn gone by now. I tried to get up to help her, walking across the ground, unable to even master the physical act of putting on my pants at that moment. I went over to help with her telling me now not to. When I made it there, she was done, so I headed back to my bed to try to relax myself desperately. 

Well, as I went to lay down, I (of course, dyspraxic as I am), I knocked over a glass of Mountain Dew that had been sitting by my bed. Well, not a glass, but a plastic cup, because I know better than to trust myself with glass, lol. Since the glass had been about half full (must be optimistic, eh? :-P), it managed to make quite the puddle at the base of my bed, spraying onto my bedsheets and a bunch of stuff I had on the floor.

Well, now I had had it. It was a mild meltdown, but became much larger after that. I quickly picked up the cup, and grabbed my heating pad off the floor where it had fallen. I took my heating pad and chucked it across the room (plug and all) into a fan that was sitting by my TV. I went over to the fan, picked it up, and then threw that down to the floor, in the good ole' search for proprioceptive input.

Then came the verbal effluence. I started swearing randomly and issuing death threats. No, I don't say I'm going to kill any 'body,' but I do say I'm going to kill some 'thing.'  Apparently, my cup was alive, and had children, because I was determined to kill them all. :-P
Damn cup! How dare he be where my arm was! I'll show him!

Anyhow, I grabbed some rags downstairs and headed back up to my room to soak up the Dew.  In route, I slammed into whatever walls I could. I tried to do things the right way that I recommend to others, and push myself off of the wall or give myself joint compressions, but lost it instead and nearly broke a couple doors and busted the rag drawer. 

When I got back to finally lay down, my sheet and blanket (which are very friendly to me tactile was, were now wet from the pop and needed to be removed. I felt my ears burning, and when I was able to make it back downstairs again, I noticed my left ear was so overloaded it was turning a dark red. I dampened a washcloth and used that on my ears while I laid back down, and the meltdown slowly subsided.

Ah, just felt the need to post this, if only to show some of my friends that I have my moments, for sure, lol. :P


  1. I think ( brace yourself, because moments of thinking for me are few and far between).... this means you're just like everyone else! I'm a door slammer, myself. Now you know a secret about ME. ;) The daddy is FOREVER fixing broken door frames at the monster house.

  2. Oh Dan, meltdowns are the worst, and they start at the most inopportune times . . . and with the smallest stuff. Capturing this on your blog was great and helpful, because I know I go through one of these puppies a week, at least. It's hard in the moment to see what small detail leads up to the big kaboom moment (like you, I throw stuff in anger, bite things, smash into things, cry), but you found yours, and we were able to follow it like a trail of breadcrumbs.

    Damn the Dew! :-) I'm glad you were able to bring the Category-5 hurricane down (my therapist calls my meltdowns Cat 5 hah). Sending you big hugs, my dear!

  3. Reading your blog, dude, whoa...

    To be frank, that was encouraging. My parents glare at me. They tell me I need to act my age. My meltdowns are a lot less frequent than they used to be, but it makes me feel a bit better knowing I'm not the only one out there who has their moments.

    Did you hear that, world? I'm not the only one?

    Dan. You made me grin. Not grin at your misfortune (bad word choice, but at 10:40 PM, it's what is coming to me) but the connection to it.


  4. Thanks for sharing your life with us, Dan! I'm a Mom of 3 and my youngest, almost 6, has SPD. He sounds a bit like you!


  5. Wow, thanks guys for the responses here. *Hugs*

    Your words mean a lot to me, and I'm glad I'm able to help those of you who I have with my own words. I just hope I realize that comments are being made a bit sooner next time. :P

    Wishing everyone a great New Year!