Sometimes I feel like I’m being carried along by the current of a turbulent cataract – now drowning, now gasping for breath as my head broaches the surface – overwhelmed by the relentless surge of my own thoughts and the sights, sounds, smells crashing in on my senses – unable to block any of it out, I am dragged down into a maelstrom of fretful anxiety – frozen and locked into a tense immobility as I fight against myself to regain some measure of conscious control over my body – unable to move as my muscles oppose their own motion, unable to speak as the words log-jam in my throat – caught on the cusp between shutdown and meltdown, trying to restrain myself from exploding into the irrational red mist of berserk rage – too agitated to withdraw into the soft oblivion of shutdown.
After some time has passed I either succumb to exhaustion and gratefully sink into restful shutdown or I expend my last energy erupting in a paroxysm of violent, undirected anger before quickly subsiding. Whichever route I take I end up drained and need time to rest and recuperate, to regain some strength. But at least there is usually calm once the storm has passed.
My Autistic Dance 
You really do know how to capture these moments in words that paint a very true picture to what is happening inside you. I, too, can relate to this, but I usually careen toward the meltdown side of things… though there are those blessed moments of entering shutdown that I have come to appreciate so much.I really like blog and what you write here. Thank you.
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Much appreciated, Bird. You're very welcome.I try to capture my inner state as best I can with my words; try to reflect either chaos or calm with the vocabulary, structure and rhythm, although I don't really know how well that comes across when somebody else reads it. I guess from what you say that I'm succeeding to a degree.
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