Kiya’s Meltdown, A Children’s Story

Story by Stacey and Wren (8 years old). Drawing by Wren. Shared with consent.

Right now, Kiya is at first recess, lifting single drops of dew oC the grey metal monkey bars with her index finger before sucking them into her mouth. The playground is a loud cacophony of too much noise and too many kids, but here, counting dew drops, Kiya can quiet the world a little. She doesn’t always mind being alone.

Kiya looks over to where her best-friend Bea is swinging with another girl, and a sharp poke of jealousy stabs her chest. Kiya loves the swings. Swinging is one of her very favorite sensations (right up there with bouncing and spinning). But in this moment hiding feels more important to Kiya than swinging.

Kiya was playing with her friends when first recess started, but they didn’t listen to her ideas, and she got mad. Like swinging, Kiya loves inventing games, but she hates when the people she’s playing with change the rules she’s created, and they almost always change the rules. When Kiya tried telling Bea how she felt, Bea got mad at Kiya for being mad at Bea—which Kiya still can’t understand—and she fled to the monkey bars.

As Kiya sucks her finger into her mouth again, her stomach twists and lurches, and Kiya feels a slight breeze stir inside her chest. Sometimes, Kiya hates being alone.

In line to go back into class, two boys behind her start to argue about which Pokemon is best and Kiya puts her hands over her ears. Back in the classroom she puts her big headphones on and goes to the quiet corner, but Kiya can still hear everything like the volume is turned up to 10. Kiya’s head starts to hurt and the wind inside her gets louder, kicking up leaves.

During math, Kiya raises her hand to answer a question, but gets confused and loses her words. Her teacher is patient, but Kiya feels shame, and when she puts her head down on her desk, squeezing her eyes as tight as she can and wishing her whole body was small, rain starts to fall inside her.

Kiya asks her teacher if she can go to the nurse hoping she’ll get sent home, but the nurse sends her back to class. Kiya’s stomach hurts and the wind inside her has started to howl.

Illustration by Wren.

Kiya’s mom is smiling when Kiya walks out of school and hugs Kiya, asking, “How was your day, sweet girl?” Kiya mumbles, “Good,” but then she cries three times on the ten-minute walk home and she can tell by the time they get there that she’s making her mom mad. Kiya hates making her mom mad, but she doesn’t know how to stop it, and that makes her madder, the wind and rain inside Kiya starting to spin into a baby tornado.

They’ve barely been home five minutes, her mom in the kitchen washing dishes and making a snack, when Kiya accidentally pulls too hard on their dog Stella’s fur. Hearing their dog cry out, Kiya’s mom snaps at her from the kitchen, “Kiya! Leave Stella alone!” And that’s when the storm breaks.

Kiya runs upstairs to her mom’s bed, the mad and sad feelings so big and charged, Kiya’s body becomes a small cloud trying to hold back a raging thunderstorm. Lightening cracks. Kiya screams at the top of her lungs while swinging her fists down to hammer on her legs, “I hate myself! I hate myself! I hate myself!”

Thunder booms and Kiya bursts into sobs. She pulls at her hair hard enough to rip out strands of it and then moaning, scratches at her face and neck with her fingernails. Kiya screams, cries, hits, kicks, and claws as the storm bursts from her like a cyclone ready to destroy a city. Kiya thrashes on the bed, head, fists and feet bashing the quilts and pillows beneath her, her whole body arching up and down like a small boat on enormous waves.

Kiya is barely aware that her mom followed her upstairs and now lays quietly on the bed beside her. Kiya doesn’t hear her mom’s slow, long breaths as if she’s hoping her calm body will help Kiya’s body know that she’s safe. Kiya can only hear the sounds the storm makes as it rips from her body, Kiya at once the wild storm and the lone little girl in the middle of it.

All storms, even the most terrible and destructive ones, stop eventually.

Kiya’s sobs and screams become quieter tears and sniCles. She takes one long shaky breath. “I know you don’t like to be held or hugged when you’re upset, but can I put my hand on your back?” her mom asks. Kiya nods wordlessly from where she is, face down in the pillows. They lay like that for a few minutes, Kiya still catching her breath.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kiya’s mom asks. From within the pillows comes Kiya’s muCled, “Yes.”

“Do you really hate yourself?” Kiya’s mom asks her, voice soft and gentle. Kiya rolls her face and body towards her mom, who softly brushes hair away from her face, asking if the touch is okay. It is.

Kiya hesitates before responding, “I don’t know. It’s just...I don’t like being Autistic.” “What is it about being Autistic you don’t like?” her mom asks.

Kiya takes a deep breath, holds it, then lets it out. “I feel like I do things wrong all the time. Sometimes I make a mistake, try to fix it, and feel like I can’t. I don’t know how to do things, and I feel like I should know how to do things. Sometimes when I’m upset it makes other people upset which makes me feel like being upset isn’t okay. I always feel like I’m doing something wrong. When I cry people tell me what I’m crying about isn’t a big deal, and I feel bad for crying. Sometimes, people get mad at me for my feelings and it makes me feel like a bad person.” She pauses. And, I don’t have any friends.”

“Wow,” says her mom after a pause. “That’s a lot. That all sounds very hard. I can see how being Autistic can feel badly sometimes. I wonder though...” her mom trails oC, staring up at the ceiling. Kiya puts her head on her mom’s shoulder, something she almost never does, and her mom kisses her forehead.

“I wonder how much of what makes being Autistic hard is because the world around you makes it hard. I wonder how much of what makes it feel bad is because the people around you, even me sometimes, don’t understand you, think you should be diCerent, and make you feel bad.”

All day long the elements for a storm gather inside Kiya’s brain and body: the loud noises, too many bodies, the unwanted smells, tastes and touches, the social expectations needing Kiya to be diCerent, Kiya’s constant confusion, and the never-ending messages that Kiya is diCerent, other, and bad. The storm can only stay inside her for so long, and Kiya can’t control when it breaks loose or what she does when it consumes her.

“Is this okay?” Kiya’s mom asks as she runs her fingers through Kiya’s hair. Kiya nods, not meeting her mom’s gaze. They are quiet together for a long time, lying beside each other, nestled safe and sweet.

“I’m sorry, honey,” her mom finally says. “I hope you know that none of this is your fault. You are doing the very best you can, and most days what’s asked of you is way too much. It isn’t fair, and it isn’t right. The problem is the world you were born into, never you my sweet girl. You’re told in so many ways every day that you are wrong, so of course you feel wrong, but I promise it’s not true. There is nothing wrong with you. I don’t know how we’ll make it better, but we’re going to try.”

Kiya’s body has relaxed, and her brain has reset. Nothing is too big inside her and she can easily think again. “I do like that I’m Autistic a lot of the time. Just not all the time,” Kiya says into the calm surrounding her. “Good,” her mom answers. “I like that you’re Autistic too.“ Kiya’s mom squeezes Kiya tightly to her side once and lets go.

“I farted,” Kiya whispers and loud bursts of laughter break the quiet in the room. “Ewwwww!” her mom shrieks. “You’ll have to call an ambulance when I pass out from the fumes!” her mom teases as Kiya lets her tongue loll out, pretending that she’s dead. Her mom grabs her in a sudden, fierce hug. “I love you exactly as you are and more than you could ever possibly imagine,” she declares. “I know, Mom,” Kiya answers with an eye roll. “Can you tickle me now?”

And as her mom tickles her, Kiya squealing in delight, the sun comes through the fading clouds and beams in the bright blue clear sky. The air is still and the world inside Kiya is calm. For now.