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    Why I’ll Soon Be Writing About Bipolar Disorder on This Autism-Focused Blog

    This blog is not intended to talk only about autism. From the beginning, when the idea for this project emerged, I hoped to provide a rare and in-depth testimony about two of my conditions: autism and bipolar disorder. Why rare? Simply because I noticed how drastically the literature lacks first-person accounts from people living with both conditions, even though this comorbidity is actually quite common — with bipolar disorder being even more frequent among autistic people than allistic individuals. And in-depth, because I intended to share my experience honestly and without filter through a long series of articles detailing what it means to live with both conditions.

    Meltdown: the autistic explosion

    If shutdown is the implosion, meltdown is the explosion. A visible, loud, and often misunderstood crisis. The stereotype of the autistic person banging their head against a wall is common. For many autistic individuals, this is a real experience — but it is not universal. Still, many autistic people experience these crises to varying degrees and frequencies. A meltdown generates an intense emotional discharge that can leave the autistic person completely drained of energy. After discussing autistic crises more broadly, this article focuses specifically on meltdowns.

    Shutdown: the autistic implosion

    Autistic crises are an integral part of life for many autistic people. After discussing them broadly in a previous article, it’s important to describe them in detail, starting with shutdowns, often described as autistic collapse or social withdrawal. A shutdown is also defined as autistic withdrawal, an involuntary response triggered by sensory or emotional overload. Yet the reality goes far beyond simple withdrawal — it is a neurological reaction in autistic individuals, designed to short-circuit an overload the brain perceives as danger.

    My sunglasses against sensory noise

    Recently, I went to the MDPH (French disability support and benefits office) in a region where a cyberattack had wiped out all their electronic files. The waiting room was crowded and loud. Instinctively, I put my sunglasses back on. My caseworker looked surprised, but my mother burst out laughing—she immediately understood what was happening. It was compensation. I needed to be able to hear my number being called and then hear the person at the desk. Noise-canceling headphones weren’t an option. So instead, I used my sunglasses to reduce—not the sound itself—but the overall sensory load my brain was processing.

    My stims and stereotypies (and what they are)

    Stereotypies are those movements or sounds that may look like tics to someone unfamiliar with autism. Yet they are very different — both in how they appear and in what purpose they serve. They are regular, repetitive, rhythmic, and seemingly without purpose. Seemingly is the key word. In reality, they play a role in sensory and emotional regulation. In short, they are essential to the life of an autistic person. In autistic communities, we often use the term stim. It’s the autistic version of the word stereotypy, which is more clinical and carries a negative connotation.

    New: a glossary of autistic jargon

    When talking about autism, we often use terms that don’t usually appear in everyday language. Most of them aren’t even defined in dictionaries. Within the autistic community, these words make communication easier — they give language to experiences that otherwise have no name. However, this vocabulary can seem confusing or obscure to non-autistic people, as well as to autistic individuals who are undiagnosed or newly diagnosed.

    The invisible senses

    I’ve already talked about the five main senses (hearing, sight, touch, smell, taste), but the human body has several others — most notably four: the vestibular system, proprioception, nociception, and thermoception. The last one you know well: it’s the reason you turn into an ice cube in winter and a boiling pot in summer. In autistic people, these senses are often altered in the same way as the five primary ones. Yet these so-called invisible senses shape our everyday experience. When they are atypical — as is often the case in autism — they can turn ordinary situations into a full emotional and sensory rollercoaster.

    My disrupted sensory world: caught between too much and not enough

    One of my oldest memories is watching tiny floating dust particles in the light of my bedroom window. That sight fascinated me. And yet, for most of my life, my sensory sensitivities have been my greatest struggle. They were the main trigger for my autistic meltdowns. When I experienced my first autistic burnout, my sensory hypersensitivities intensified to the point where I described them as “broken.” Things that used to bother me mildly — or things I had adapted to — suddenly became unbearable. Since sensory sensitivities are a core part of the diagnostic criteria and a major aspect of autistic life, it feels important to explain them and share my experience.