I have shared before that when Casey was young, meltdowns were a big part of her life. She started having them at school long before they occurred at home (probably because demands were placed on her at school and home was her “safe” place). While we rarely see those hours-long meltdowns anymore, we do still have mood swings once in a while.
I know many people with autism experience mood swings and I wish I knew why. Anger, tears and happiness all cycle and most of the time, you have no idea why and they can’t tell you. This happened to Casey the other night.
We had supper and she was fine. I was having a rough week, so when she flopped down on the couch, I was happy to just chill out, too. She had her hand over her eyes, so I thought she might have headache. As bath time approached, she keep peeking at me from under her hand (They always think I’ll forget bath time!) and giggling. (I’m not nearly as crazy as they think I am – I do remember baths!)
So I told her to go start her bath water, she said “no” like she always does as she jumped up to get her PJs. I heard her giggle as she ran to her room and back to the bathroom. A few seconds later, the screams started. I mean screams that, unless you have heard, you can’t imagine. I don’t know why it doesn’t hurt her throat to scream like that. She wasn’t having a meltdown – just a scream every few seconds.
I ran to the bathroom with no clue what was happening. Rob came out of his room, so I knew he had nothing to do with whatever set her off, but he wasn’t helping the situation as he yelled “Casey, no FITS!” and set her off again. I told him to go in this room and rip paper and shut the door.
By then, she was crying – tears flowing down her cheeks. I tried to hug her, but hugging is not something she wants unless she initiates it. She leaned on me for a sec, pushed away and screamed in my face. And screamed and screamed. And then she was crying again and leaning on me for a hug.
I kept telling her she was ok and to tell me what was wrong. I try never to ask the kids questions – they have a hard time processing them. I say “Tell me what’s wrong” instead of “What’s wrong?” I told her again as she cried to tell me, but again, she pushed me away and screamed “BATH!”
So I started her water and asked if she wanted Elmo bubble bath. She said yes and started giggling. I was desperate to get her mind off whatever was upsetting her so we talked about going to Grandma Rose’s and Grandpa Mack’s house the next evening and seeing Mandy this weekend. Suddenly – another scream. (do you have any idea how screams echo in a small, tiled bathroom?)
I sat back and let her scream. When she calmed down again, I started talking about needing a Christmas list for her and how she could write that when she got out of the bath, if she wanted to. Yes! She did and she started giggling again and finally, she started talking a little about Elmo and Christmas. I took a deep breath and prayed it was over.
She was drying off when the next screams started. By now, Rob is working himself up to a anxiety attack – humming, pacing, telling her “no fits” (which, by the way, really ticks her off!) I ran into the other room to get him a pile of magazines and pulled his door shut again. And now she is standing in the kitchen sobbing her heart out. I feel so bad – I just can’t figure out what is wrong and I’m almost in tears, too.
We get her pills and orange sherbet. As she ate her snack, I got Rob’s shower going and waited for more screams. He was worked up and I had a bad feeling there would be little sleep that night. He was yelling, even as he took his shower. I got his pills and snacks ready and sat on the kitchen floor. My dog came to lean on me and I cried on her shoulder. Feeling helpless is one of the most terrible feelings in the world. I couldn’t help either of my kids that night and I knew that Casey wasn’t done, yet.
She was laying on the couch again. When I went in, she held her hand out and I went to sit beside her. She asked about her Christmas list and we wrote down several things she wanted. She was giggling and smiling, but I knew the mood swings weren’t over, yet. Soon, she threw back her head and screamed again. She pushed me away and started crying again.
So I sat on the floor about three feet from her and kept begging her to tell me what was wrong or what she needed. Finally, she jumped up and ran to her room. I waited for the screams to start again and when I didn’t hear anything for a few minutes, went to check on her. She was in bed with her blankets over her head and Elmo cuddled against her chest.
I went back downstairs and checked on Rob. He was just finishing his pile of magazines and seemed happy. So I went in my room and had a good cry. Life is just not fair, sometimes. I hate feeling helpless – especially when I can’t help my own child feel better. Sometimes, I hate autism and the pain it causes them. I hate not being able to fix the problem and help them feel happy.
I know you have felt the same way. Parents of “typical” kids have the same issues, at times, but at least those kids can tell their parents what is wrong. Casey and Rob have words, when they aren’t too stressed. When anxiety and stress hit, their words disappear and there isn’t anything I can do but wait it out.
I still don’t know what happened that evening. She woke up the next day like nothing had happened. I thanked God we made it through another autism mood swing and prayed He would keep giving me the strength I need. I guess that’s all any of us can do, isn’t it?