Today, I fucking lost it. A guy came into the store asking about a 400 small block Chevy. I looked up a '70 Impala with one. I asked a simple, necessary question: was it a 2-barrel or 4-barrel carb? Because it matters. It changes the head gaskets. It’s not just some minor detail—it changes the part entirely. He didn’t like me asking. He started puffing up, saying he’s been building engines for 30 years, and that all 400s are the same. But they’re not. They are not the same. I tried to show him on the screen, tried to walk him through the difference, but then he started yelling. And that’s when everything shut down. My body. My brain. Too loud. Too close. Too fast. I blacked out. I don’t remember what happened next. Mikey told me I screamed at the guy. Told him to fucking leave. Told him to get out of the store. I don’t remember that part. I don’t even remember being able to speak. But I guess I did, because apparently I stormed off, punched a radiator, and shoved a tool cart into t...

After my last post about the whole speech block situation with Miranda and Mikey, I kept asking myself something I’ve wondered for years: Was that a meltdown… or a shutdown? It’s something I’ve never really been sure how to categorize. So I finally sat down and unraveled it—and I want to share what I found, because I know I’m not the only autistic person who’s been stuck in this grey zone. --- 💥 Meltdown vs. 🧊 Shutdown — What’s the Difference? Here’s the short version: A meltdown is an external overload explosion. Think crying, yelling, pacing, lashing out, or sensory stimming that looks big. It’s loud. It’s visible. It’s energy spilling outward because your system’s fried. A shutdown is an internal collapse. Think going quiet, freezing, losing the ability to speak or move, or feeling emotionally numb. It’s your brain hitting the brakes to avoid further damage. The energy goes inward—and it can be just as intense, just… silent. --- So What Happened to Me? That moment where I couldn’t...