Stimming and sibbing

Stimming is a self-soothing behaviour employed by some people to take their minds off all the other extra stimulation coming in that might otherwise overwhelm them.  Some of these behaviours are obvious to other people – the “classic” hand-flapping, rocking, humming, nodding and other outwardly visible behaviours.  Others are invisible or at such a low level that they are considered by outsiders to be “ordinary” habits or quirks – nail biting / cleaning, hair fiddling, chewing the insides of the cheek.

It might seem ironic to use a particular stimulus to counter other stimuli, but for some it works if it is distracting enough, and the person can focus on just that one stimulus.  For some, the stimulus doesn’t have to be the sole focus of attention, it just needs to take care of the senses that would basically get bored and clamour for attention when conscious attention is required elsewhere.

Sibbing is a subset of stimming.  SIB stands for Self-Injurious Behaviours – things like biting oneself, or banging one’s head on a wall.

Stimming and sibbing are not confined to autistic people, or others with neurological differences.  Therefore, while it may alert you to the fact that someone is autistic, it is not an absolute diagnostic criterion.

A lot of the time, the autist may not even realise that they stim, because they have been doing it for so long and it requires no conscious thought.  It may take the stories of another autistic person, or for someone to ask them why they are doing something, for them to even realise that they do it, or used to do it (stims employed can change with age).

The Temple Grandin quote below reminded me of something I used to do in childhood.  For a time when I was a child, we had ducks and chickens, and grains were part of their diet.  The grain came in large drums that were big enough to allow me to put my head into the grain quite deeply – I loved the feel, the tickle, of the grain through my hair, on my scalp, and around my ears.  At other times I just used to let the grain dribble through my fingers as I examined all the different types – wheat, barley, sorghum, buckwheat, and more - that came in the mix.

As an adult, I have been surprised on occasion by Other Half asking, “What are you thinking?”  When I have responded with, “How do you know I’m thinking?” he has pointed out that I’ve been drumming my fingers, or tapping my feet while pointing them towards the person I’m speaking to.  These are things that I have been completely unaware I am doing, but he as someone who knows and loves me well, has realised it means certain things are going on inside of me.

Sometimes, I employ habits that I am well aware at the time that I am doing, even if the activity itself runs mostly on ‘autopilot’, like fiddling with my hair – curling and twirling it around my fingers – something I picked up from one of my sisters.  And at times these activities appear to require more of my conscious input – doing the dishes and putting them away is an example - but leave the major part of my conscious processes for more important matters like holding deep and meaningful conversations with Other Half or a friend.

These are examples where my eyes or fingers, or both, would clamour for attention just when I need to direct my attention to some other specific task.  So next time you see me sewing when at church, or at a conference, don’t assume I’m not paying attention.  This just may be my way of appeasing some of my senses so that others can do their job more effectively.

“When I did stims such as dribbling sand through my fingers, it calmed me down. When I stimmed, sounds that hurt my ears stopped. Most kids with autism do these repetitive behaviors because it feels good in some way. It may counteract an overwhelming sensory environment . . .”  – Temple Grandin

Meltdowns, Shutdowns, and Tantrums – what’s the difference?

Let’s start with tantrums.

A tantrum is an emotional outburst characterised by actions such as screaming, crying, defiance, stubbornness, and sometimes acts of violence.  They are usually thrown by toddlers - most of us are familiar with the image of a toddler hysterical at not getting a toy or a particular food item in the supermarket.  They may also be thrown by adults - in which case they are often called 'hissy fits'.  They are normally a reaction to frustration with the world, other people, or personal circumstances.

A toddler generally throws tantrums because they haven't yet learnt skills of how to (calmly) verbalise their frustrations, what to do with being told, "No", delay of gratification, and self-regulation.  Generally, they don't know how to verbalise their frustrations because they don't have the vocabulary to express themselves adequately.

An adult normally throws tantrums because they've been taught from childhood that if they throw a fit, someone will give them what they want.  An adult generally doesn’t throw themselves on the floor like a toddler might, instead he or she becomes verbally enraged and / or physically violent towards the person, group, or thing they believe is blocking their way.

A tantrum normally stops when the object of desire is received – the toy, the food item, the undeserved refund on a product or service, subservience from an employee, co-worker, or family member…

So, what are meltdowns?

Meltdowns are a stress reaction to being overwhelmed.  Anyone can have them, but autistic people are more likely to do so.  This is because our senses are often highly receptive to stimulation, particularly from external sources, so they are more likely to be overwhelmed by various stimuli.

For instance, as well as eye contact and other visual stimuli, many of us are highly attuned to stimulation of our other senses.  For some of us, noise-cancelling headphones are a Godsend in this regard to dampen the level of aural input we receive.  Some autists are highly sensitive to texture, with many opting to cut the sizing and garment care tags off their clothes.

When the autistic mind is bombarded by too much stimulation, it can lead the autist to have a meltdown.  A meltdown can look like a tantrum in that the person can have outbursts of uncontrolled crying, screaming, and sometimes, acts of violence.

It is important to note that meltdowns are not tantrums.  They notably differ in the following respects:

·    Tantrums are directed outwards – the displays of emotion are directed out, towards the perceived road-blocker (parents, service providers, employees, family members).  Meltdowns are directed inwards as the sufferer focuses on sensations they are perceiving and tries to find ways to block them.

·     Individual tantrums stop when they are rewarded with reception of a desired object or goal.  Meltdowns are not pacified with the presentation of a ‘shiny new thing’.  Indeed, this can make things worse as the ‘shiny new thing’ and interactions with people are just more stimulation of an already overloaded system.

We do not all have spectacular noisy meltdowns; some of us just shut down instead.

Autistic shutdown can be as simple as a short-term loss of ability to articulate our needs or what is going on inside us, but I’ve also read accounts from others of their need for complete rest (and perhaps sleep) for several days.  Like autistic meltdowns, they are a stress reaction to being overwhelmed, generally by too much external stimulation.

For me, I shut down when everything just gets to be Too Much.  My shutdowns take the form of inability to articulate as a first step, and graduate to being curled up with arms around my knees, hands over ears, and gently rocking.  I know, I know – verbose me ends up unable to talk; literally unable to articulate what I need or don’t need.  Other Half will at times say things like, “Use your words,” and it’s all I can do to say, “I can’t.”

What can you as a non-autistic (or even not-over-stimulated autistic) person do for someone in these circumstances?

·    Give the person experiencing the meltdown or shutdown space, time, and peace.

·    Do not punish them – this is not bad behaviour; it’s a stress reaction.

·     Let them know that you are there for them if or when they need it.  One way you might do this is by silent care-giving.  For example, you might make them a cup of tea, leave it in front of them, and walk away, all without saying anything other than perhaps, “I’ll be in the …. room.”  This shows that you care for the person, and you do so enough to let them emerge at their own pace, not yours.

·     Stop talking.  Seriously.  Stop talking at them.  Talking is your attempt to minimize your feelings of awkwardness.  It is really unhelpful because (a) it’s more stimulation; and (b) the person having the meltdown or shutdown will just be more stressed by the idea that they are being made responsible for making you feel better…or at least getting you to shut up.  If you keep jabbering away at me, I will walk away.  So, learn to live with your feelings of awkwardness as much as the world expects us to live with ours.

Verbosity

You have a friend / family member / colleague whom you love dearly, or at least like, who is articulate, doesn’t repeat themselves endlessly, and has a reasonably expressive face or voice.

But oh man, can they talk the hind leg off a donkey.  You wish that they would cut to the chase in the drama they’re telling you about, rather than giving you the history of every character, and a blow-by-blow account of every little thing everyone said and did.  And you also wish that they wouldn’t stop-start in their telling of the story to give you the back story to the event in question.

What’s going on here?

Autists tend to like clarity.  We like it for ourselves and we like to give it to you.  The way we think it's easiest to give you clarity is to give you context.  Lots of context.

Because we have already hyper-analysed the event we’re telling you about, we have decided that these things are important for context and clarity.  Part of the problem is that we can forget that our audience does not already know certain things, so partway through we will feel the need to ‘get you up to speed’ by filling you in on the back story.

Assuming this habit grates on you enough, if you have a good enough relationship with the storyteller, tell them how you would have told the story.  Let them know which things you needed to know and which you either didn’t need to know or would have been happy to ask for more info about.  This will (a) help the storyteller not to lose their audience due to verbosity; and (b) you won’t be grinding your teeth as you politely wait for them to finish.

If you thought (b) was bad, chances are that if (a) happens then, when you return to the storyteller later, you are likely to find that they remember where their story was cut short and Will Continue It from that point.  If you don’t want that to happen, don’t avoid them, just let them know how to tell the story more succinctly.