mute

chapter 12

Chapter: When Joy Turns to Overwhelm

The day after Billie’s dance celebration, her family decided to continue the festivities with a special lunch out at a restaurant. It was rare for Billie to go out to eat, but she was excited. After her huge success in dance, it seemed like the perfect way to mark the occasion.

Maggie, Patrick, Finneas, and Billie all dressed up and made their way to a cozy family restaurant, a place they used to visit when Billie was younger. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, with soft lighting and chatter filling the air. Billie walked in with her family, her heart still buzzing from the excitement of the previous day. But the moment they stepped inside, the familiar sensory overload began to creep in.

The clatter of dishes, the hum of conversations, the smell of food—it was all too much, too fast. Billie’s body started to tense, and she felt the first signs of her tics emerging. At first, they were small—her head jerking to the side slightly, and her shoulder twitching in quick movements. She tried to control them, but her tics had a mind of their own. As her family sat down, Billie’s arm jerked suddenly, knocking against the edge of the table.

Maggie noticed right away. “Billie, are you okay?” she asked softly, trying not to draw attention but clearly concerned.

Billie nodded, but she knew what was coming. The overwhelming sounds and lights in the restaurant were triggering her tics, and it was getting harder and harder to keep them under control. She tried to steady her breathing, but her body wasn’t listening.

As the server came over to take their orders, Billie’s tics intensified. Her head snapped back and forth rapidly, her hand hitting the table in a sharp, repetitive motion. She let out a few involuntary sounds—short, loud squeaks that drew the attention of the people sitting nearby. Her leg kicked out beneath the table, and she could feel the stares of other diners pressing down on her.

Finneas, sitting beside her, gently placed his hand on her arm, trying to ground her. “It’s okay, Billie. Just breathe,” he whispered.

But the tics wouldn’t stop. Billie’s body jerked violently now, her head shaking uncontrollably, and her arms flailing in unpredictable directions. Her family watched helplessly as Billie’s tic attack took over, knowing there was nothing they could do to stop it.

The server, sensing the tension, quickly took their orders and left. But by then, Billie was fully in the grip of her tics. Her arm hit her glass, spilling water across the table. Her face twitched in rapid spasms, and her hands slapped the table repeatedly. Each movement was beyond her control, and it felt like her body was working against her.

As the tic attack raged on, the overwhelm became too much. Billie’s body was exhausted, and her mind was fraying at the edges. The sensory overload, the loss of control—it all built up until Billie felt herself slipping into an autistic meltdown.

Without warning, she let out a loud, distressed sound and started pulling at her hair, yanking at it in frustration. Her fingers tangled in the strands, pulling harder and harder as the meltdown took over. She slammed her fists on the table, her breathing ragged and shallow. The more she tried to calm down, the more the frustration built, spiraling out of control.

Maggie and Patrick were quick to react, moving to her side to try and help. “Billie, sweetheart, we’re here,” Maggie said softly, her voice filled with worry. She tried to gently move Billie’s hands away from her hair, but Billie resisted, too caught up in the meltdown to process what was happening.

Tears welled up in Billie’s eyes as she yanked at her hair again, pulling out several strands in the process. Her hands shook, and she rocked back and forth in her seat, overwhelmed by the intensity of the meltdown. The restaurant’s noise felt like it was closing in on her, every sound amplified, every light too bright.

Patrick quickly made the decision. “We need to go,” he said quietly to Maggie and Finneas. “This is too much for her.”

Finneas nodded in agreement, standing up to help guide Billie out of her chair. “Billie, we’re going to leave, okay? Let’s get you somewhere quieter.”

But Billie wasn’t ready to leave. She felt trapped in her own mind, her body rebelling against her, and the idea of changing her environment—of moving—only made her anxiety spike further. She shook her head, pulling at her hair again, her body trembling with the effort of trying to manage the emotions flooding her system.

Despite their gentle coaxing, Billie’s meltdown continued as they led her out of the restaurant. Her legs kicked out as she walked, and she let out small, pained sounds. Every movement felt like a battle between what she wanted to do and what her body was forcing her to do.

When they finally made it outside, the cooler air hit Billie’s face, but it did little to calm her. She collapsed into a heap on the sidewalk, her body shaking as she sobbed into her hands. Her family crouched beside her, their hearts breaking at the sight of Billie’s distress.

“I’m so sorry,” Billie signed with shaking hands through her tears, looking up at them. The meltdown had passed, but the shame and guilt lingered. She had wanted the day to be a celebration—a continuation of her dance success. But instead, she felt like she had ruined everything.

“Hey, no, don’t be sorry,” Finneas signed back, his face soft and understanding. “It’s okay, Billie. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Maggie placed a hand on Billie’s back, rubbing soothing circles as Patrick stood nearby, trying to keep the moment calm. “We know this was overwhelming,” Maggie said gently. “You don’t need to apologize. We’re proud of you no matter what.”

But Billie couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment in herself. She had been doing so well lately—so proud of her progress in dance, so happy with the steps she had been taking. But here she was, once again trapped in the unpredictable nature of her tics and meltdowns, unable to stop it when everything got too overwhelming.

They helped Billie to her feet, and she leaned heavily on Finneas as they made their way to the car. The ride home was quiet, the only sound being Billie’s soft sniffles as she tried to pull herself back together. Her family didn’t push her to talk—they knew she needed time to process what had happened.

When they arrived home, Billie immediately retreated to her room. She sat on the edge of her bed, running her fingers through her hair, feeling the spots where she had yanked too hard. The guilt still lingered, heavy in her chest. She didn’t want her family to think she had ruined the celebration, but deep down, that’s exactly how she felt.

A soft knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. It was Finneas. He walked in slowly, sitting down beside her on the bed. “I know you’re upset,” he said quietly, “but today wasn’t a failure, Billie. You didn’t ruin anything.”

Billie looked at him, her eyes still red from crying. “I wanted today to be good,” she signed slowly. “But I messed it up.”

Finneas shook his head. “You didn’t mess anything up. You had a rough time, but that doesn’t take away from everything you’ve accomplished. We’re still so proud of you, Billie. Nothing that happened today changes that.”

Billie stared at her hands, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. She didn’t feel proud of herself in that moment, but seeing the love and understanding in Finneas’ eyes made the guilt ease, if only just a little.

Finneas smiled softly, reaching out to take her hand. “You’re doing great, Billie. Don’t forget that.”

Billie squeezed his hand in return, grateful for his reassurance. And though the weight of the day still hung heavy on her, she knew that, with her family by her side, she could find a way to keep moving forward. Even when things didn’t go as planned, they were there to remind her of her strength, and that was all she needed.