What Does a PDA Meltdown Feel Like?

PDA meltdowns are distressing for parents—and terrifying for PDA children. How can you help your PDA child?

Have you ever seen Being John Malkovich? The idea of being a helpless passenger in my mind while a puppeteer controlled my actions really spoke to my experience of PDA meltdowns.

Meltdowns are distressing for bystanders and terrifying for a PDA child. Frequent meltdowns are traumatic, leading to a devastating cycle of increasing shame and anxiety.

The constant shame and guilt eat away at a PDAer’s confidence and sense of self-worth. Self-loathing feeds anxiety, which reduces stress tolerance.

A PDA child having a meltdown may:

• look panicked or “wild”

• start sweating

• clench their muscles

• scream, growl, or cry uncontrollably

• stop responding when spoken to

• make threats

• show no concern for their safety

• hit, kick, bite, throw objects, self-injure, or engage in other aggressive/violent behavior

What a PDA Meltdown Feels Like

My insides churn, and it feels like I’ve swallowed a handful of razor blades.

My heartbeat races—I can hear the blood rushing through my head—and my skin feels hot and flushed.

My muscles clench and knot as if there’s an electrical current running through my body. Everything feels tight, twisted, buzzing, burning. All of my nerves are on fire.

It’s too much. It’s like I’m John Hurt in Alien, writhing in pain, fear, and confusion right before the Xenomorph bursts through his chest. Every part of my body is screaming at me that if I don’t release the building tension, I am going to die.

I feel like I’ve been possessed—I can watch my actions through my eyes, but I’ve completely lost control of my body. It’s like an out-of-body experience, but instead of leaving my body entirely, I’m trapped inside—a prisoner in my own mind.

It’s terrifying.

Everything around me seems sharp but also dreamlike. I’m watching a movie that’s just come into focus, and my eyes can’t adjust. The world is under a magnifying glass, hyper-detailed but distorted.

I scream. Capillaries burst. Maybe I’m using the strongest language I can think of in a panic. Sometimes I’m just screaming—guttural screams of rage and despair. I desperately need to express all the pain and fear, and I don’t know how.

I can’t hear my own thoughts through the buzzing-ringing-wooshing cacophony in my head. Other people try to reason with me. I hear them, but their voices are garbled and far away—like I’m hearing them from underwater. I don’t understand. It’s just more noise; the louder it gets, the more it hurts.

My rational self feels so tiny. I’ve fallen down a long, black tunnel. I’m a single point of light in an infinite void. I try to yell at myself—What is wrong with me? Just stop! Get back in control!—but there’s no sound. My body can’t hear me.

I desperately claw at everything, trying to hold on for dear life. No one can throw me a lifeline. No one can reach me. I can’t even reach myself.

After a Meltdown

I’m emotionally and physically exhausted—scratched and bruised. I’ve crashed into a brick wall at light speed, and now I have to try and put myself back together.

Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I get defensive, unable to deal with the disconnect between my rational mind and my actions. Sometimes I can’t remember what happened, or I can only remember bits and pieces.

I’m hurt, confused, and alone. I hate myself, and I know everyone else hates me. No one would behave this way unless they were terrible—even evil.

No one could love me; they’re just stuck with me. They hate being around me. They wish I were someone else.

I wish I were someone else. I wish I were dead.

Support for PDA Meltdowns

Oof. Intense, right?

Parents can face enormous social pressures to “get their child under control,” but you can’t use behaviorism (rewards, punishments, and other techniques based on modifying behavior without recognizing underlying causes) to stop meltdowns. A meltdown is an involuntary neurological response to nervous system overwhelm.

Meltdowns can be prevented but can’t be stopped once in full swing. You can’t reason with a child in the middle of a meltdown. They literally cannot access the part of their brain that governs rational thought.

It doesn’t matter how good your argument or explanation is. You might be the world’s greatest philosopher, but a PDA child in a meltdown can’t process your words. To them, it’s just noise.

How a Meltdown Happens

Meltdowns happen in phases. No child is instantly going from 0 to 100, though it can appear that way from the outside. PDA children are typically high-masking, often masking their distress until their nervous system is so overloaded they can’t maintain the facade.

Many PDAers also have co-occurring alexithymia, an emotional processing disability that makes identifying or describing your feelings difficult. PDAers with alexithymia may not know they’re anxious or distressed until it’s at an extreme stage. Meltdowns may seem sudden and shocking to them, just as they do to outside observers.

Signs of an impending meltdown can be subtle, like:

• nail biting

• muscle tension

• increased stimming

• difficulty focusing

• talking louder or faster than normal

• decreased sensory tolerance—turning down lights, covering ears

• irritability—having a “bad attitude” or being “short” with people

During a Meltdown

In the early stages of a meltdown, you may be able to disrupt the stress response cycle by “shocking” the nervous system with things like:

• very sour candy

• frozen berries or ice cubes

• ice or a cold shower

• acupressure mats and pillows

• strong vibrations

Don’t force these techniques — you can offer them as an option to your child in the beginning stages of a meltdown or discuss them with your child when everyone is calm.

If your child successfully disrupts a meltdown, I strongly recommend immediately engaging in an activity that can complete the stress cycle like:

• physical activity

• social connection

• deep breathing

• laughter

• creative projects

Also, feel free to experiment! Ask your child if they have any ideas about what might help during the early stages of a meltdown. I can sometimes disrupt my six-year-old child’s meltdown by inviting her to look at toys online and add things to her wish list. I have no idea why this works, but it does!

If your child is already having a full-blown meltdown, the top priority is safety. Your safety, your PDA child’s safety, and the safety of any other people in the area. Depending on your situation, this may mean things like:

• using couch cushions as a shield or buying a foam martial arts shield

• physically getting in between your PDA child and siblings

• packing up knick-nacks and breakables

• adding locks to drawers that store knives and sharp objects

• installing door and window alarms

• pulling the car over until a meltdown subsides

Second priority? Damage control. The goal is to lower your child’s distress as much as possible while waiting for the meltdown to run its course.

Do your best to stay calm—easier said than done, I know. Arguing, criticizing, threatening, or even reasoning with a child in meltdown can add to their distress. Some children find touch comforting during a meltdown, but many find it agitating.

Reducing sensory stimuli helps some PDAers during a meltdown. Our nervous system is already overloaded, so lowering the lights, reducing ambient noise, etc., can help remove some of the “weight.”

Do not restrain or isolate your child unless you have no other option. This is hugely traumatic and should never be done unless there is no other way to mitigate a severe safety risk.

After a Meltdown

Meltdowns end when your child runs out of steam. They’re likely exhausted and may need a calm, dim, quiet space to recover. Encourage anything your child finds soothing, such as:

• stimming (especially whole-body stims like rocking, bouncing, etc.)

• comfort shows or movies

• comfort foods

• comfortable clothes/favorite pajamas

• fidget toys

• weighted blankets

When your child is okay with talking, reassure them they’re safe and loved. Talk about how meltdowns can happen to anyone—even neurotypical adults can have meltdowns—and how other PDA people experience meltdowns similar to your child.

If you’ve ever had a meltdown or panic attack, feel free to share your experience with your child in an age-appropriate way. Let them know you understand how scary feeling entirely out of control is. Neurodivergent people often communicate understanding through sharing mutual experiences.

Whatever you do, do not punish your child for having a meltdown. This is traumatic and pushes your child further into shame, guilt, and isolation.

Recovery times can vary wildly. Some people only need a few minutes to recover from a meltdown, while others take days. Allow your child to recover as long as necessary, and offer additional support, attention, time, and gentle care.

Is your PDA child struggling with frequent meltdowns? Leave a comment or reach out to me at arielgrucza@gmail.com if there’s an issue you’d like me to dig into from the PDA perspective.

About PDA Perspectives:

I’m an AuDHD/PDA adult, freelance writer, wife to an autistic (but not PDA) partner, and homeschooling mom of three neurodivergent kids. I created PDA Perspectives to encourage a dialogue between PDA adults and parents of PDA children—or anyone looking for a deeper understanding of PDA. Have questions, comments, or topics you’d like to see addressed? Drop me a line at arielgrucza@gmail.com.

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