Welcome back to Part 3 of Frances's story. Catch up with [Part 1] and [Part 2] if you're just joining us.
This week I want to talk about something Melissa described that might feel very familiar for some of you. Maybe not at first, but when you see what happens at the end... you might be nodding along.
Frances wakes up.
Then she cuddles with Melissa in the rocking chair.
Then she goes potty.
Next, she brings her lovey to the kitchen where she waits for her morning juice cup (in the Jasmine cup) and water (in the Moana cup).
Anything deviates from the sequence at all? Cue the meltdown.
And then there are the lines. Toys, animals, trains, whatever she can find. She builds them carefully, places them in long lines, and if anyone bumps one accidentally, or if a breeze comes or unsteady object teeters off balance, the response is immediate and intense. As you can imagine, this causes some friction in a 900 sqft apartment with a mobile baby brother crawling around.
Melissa felt like she was on edge every minute of the routine hoping it went “just right” so there would be no meltdown.
How many of you are nodding along?
Why the routine matters so much
Frances's brain doesn't experience a disrupted routine the way a neurotypical brain does. For many, a switched-up morning is annoying at worst. Maybe we're a little grumpy. But we figure it out and move through it.
For Frances, a deviation isn’t just "things are slightly off today." It’s more like, "something is wrong and I don't know what comes next."
