Just yesterday, my daughter Ella experienced a meltdown in a public setting. This isn’t an unusual occurrence for us. When emotions run high and communication falters, meltdowns can arise. Typically, if we can swiftly remove her from the triggering environment, she calms down almost immediately.
However, yesterday’s challenge involved navigating her out of a building with excellent acoustics, which meant tackling two flights of stairs due to a broken escalator and crossing a sky bridge.
Things took an unexpected turn on the sky bridge. I hoped that the fresh air would soothe her; she usually enjoys the views from up high. Instead, Ella paused to sob even louder. At that moment, my partner David wrapped his arm around her waist to help her move forward, even as she continued to wail.
Suddenly, two security guards approached us. “We heard a woman screaming on the sky bridge,” they informed us.
What followed was a quick explanation: “Our daughter has special needs and is having a meltdown. We’re just trying to get her to the car; she’s not being kidnapped.” The guards immediately reassured us, apologizing and offering their assistance. Within minutes, we were back in our car, and Ella had calmed down significantly. Just moments after leaving the parking garage, she was back to her usual self.
What struck me was their initial perception; they referred to Ella as a woman. Standing at 5 feet 3 inches tall, she might appear older than she is, but it throws me off to think of her as an adult.
We’re entering a new phase. Society is generally more accepting of children with disabilities, especially when they are well-dressed, smiling, and embodying an inspirational narrative. However, the acceptance diminishes when it comes to adults with disabilities.
Ella is transitioning into adulthood while still facing cognitive challenges. It’s evident that she doesn’t visibly appear disabled. Just the other night, as I watched her awkwardly return from getting a drink at a local restaurant, I realized she could easily be mistaken for a typical young adult.
When I shared our experience on social media, friends suggested things like getting her an ID or an ID bracelet. While that could help, it doesn’t visually communicate her needs to the public. I could shout, “Excuse us! She has cognitive disabilities and sometimes struggles with transitions!” but let’s be honest—I’m usually too busy managing the situation to be shouting.
Perhaps a Bat-Signal or a flare gun that signals, “This is not ordinary but also not threatening” would do the trick. Unfortunately, there’s no simple solution. The best approach I can think of is raising awareness. By discussing these experiences, we can help others understand what’s happening when Ella struggles in public.
Becoming hermits isn’t an option for us.
This article was originally published on May 24, 2017.
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In summary, as our children grow, the dynamics of handling public meltdowns shift. We must adapt and find ways to communicate their unique needs while fostering understanding in the community.