Being able to avert meltdowns but paying for it later.

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I do not have the kind of violent meltdowns that some people on this forums describe. Instead, I will somtimes break down and collapse into a fit of crying when too many things pile up on me. On some occasions, I can prevent this from happening. Here is an example of such an occasion.

The other night, my best friend and I went to a concert. (G3- the first time they've played in Australia!). We caught the train into the city. She is very extroverted and likes to talk, so I try to make conversation. It is difficult, because I am naturally inclined to sit in silence and because the rhythm of the train's sound and movement hypnotise me. I finally give up when I make a comment that Queensland Rail has been testing new trains and she says that she doesn't care. She has always been very blunt like that.

When we get into South Bank, it turns out that she doesn't know where to go. I do not understand why people don't check a map before we go out. We are given directions. They are bad ones. We walk at high speed through all of South Bank and half of West End. My feet are blistered from a night out in high heels a few nights ago, and my legs are cramping. It HURTS to walk. Despite this, my friend will not stop as we are late to check in to our hotel.

We finally arrive at our hotel. It turns out that if we had gone in the right direction, it would only have been a 10-minute walk from the train station. We settle down. She sits on the bed and turns the TV on. I collapse on the couch and hide behind the visitor information book. She complains because I'm not talking. We have a drink each (I have a Lemon Russki, she has vodka and Red Bull) and the conversation starts flowing- i.e, I am now saying more than one word per hour.

We walk into the city to have dinner. My legs and feet have rested enough by now that it only hurts to walk uphill. We go to Subway for dinner, then we walk back to the Convention Centre in South Bank for the concert.

The Convention Centre is filled with people. They appear to be friendly and just there for a good time. My friend sees someone in a Dream Theater shirt and goes to talk to him. He says that my friend and I should go out for pancakes with him and his friend afterwards. My friend asks what I think of this idea. I am not particularly interested in socialising but I do like pancakes so I say that that sounds good.

The concert is very good but very loud. The music hits me in the centre of the chest. By the beginning of the third set I am so overloaded with sound and lights that I've stopped being able to process speech (I hear the occasional word, so the sentence "The cat sat on the mat" would sound something like "Aaa cat *static*.... .... m at". I deal with it by nodding at what I hope are appropriate moments.) or movement- everything looks like a series of jerky stills, and I am very dissociated and disoriented. On the way to our seats, I manage to walk smack bang into a security guard. She accepts my apology. I laugh at myself, thinking that I must look drunk or stoned.

About half an hour before the end of the concert, I have had enough. My ears are clogged up with sound, I can't see straight, my chest hurts, my head is beginning to thump and bright lights are flashing in my eyes constantly. I have stopped being able to enjoy the music. For my friend's sake, I manage to make a half-smile-half-grimace every time she looks my way.

After the concert, we go back to the hotel room so that she can drop her stuff off and put some Deep Heat on her shoulders (she has whiplash from a recent car accident). Then we head back to the city. I force myself to enjoy the night out. Part of me just wants to wish that we could stop for a while, to give into my need for solitude, but I overrule it and have fun. I am renewed with energy. When we are in the city, she decides that she doesn't feel like pancakes and instead we look for something to take home for breakfast the next day. I am thrown off balance because this is not what I'd expected that we'd be doing.

We get back to the hotel at about 1:30am and watch some TV. Then we go to bed. There is only a double bed. She had been intending to go to this concert with her boyfriend but they broke up and he wouldn't accept his birthday present, which was the concert ticket, so she invited me instead.

I try to sleep, but I have a thumping headache and my chest feels like it is being crushed whenever I lie down. It is also burning. It stops hurting when I sit up. I don't want to disturb my friend by tossing and turning, so I move to the small couch and try to sleep. Every time I lie down, my chest begins hurting and my head is squeezed in a vice. I have maybe an hour and a half's sleep for the whole night because I am having to get up and walk around all the time. I nearly throw up once. All this seems to be a direct result of me putting off a lot of stress from being overloaded etc and having it hit me all at once.

Despite being stressful, it was a fun night out.

Has anyone else experienced anything similar?

Nah, I love concerts.

Forget it, I'll be serious. But can I ask what does the conclusion or at least the story itself have to do with the subject made in the introduction to the thread?

I'm not a great reader I can read well, it's just....

The story is an example of a stressful event that could have led to a meltdown. I managed not to melt down, but paid for it later by having a headache and sore chest and feeling sick and being unable to sleep.

The meltdown itself, when supressed for me, doesn't transform into anything else... instead, it stays at its current symptoms, but just rises in intensity.

What I mean by this:

If I have a lot of stress in a day, and my feelings are hurt repeatedly, I often feel like crying. But I'm obviously not going to cry when dozens of people are standing around, or out in public. So I supress it.

Several weeks of this leads to one thing:

Finally breaking down when it is time to go to bed, and instead of sleeping, I start crying. All the tears and weeping I supressed has to eventually come to the surface all at once. And when that happens, it is an intense show of anguish and rage.

I'm not great at gigs. Which is a bit sick because I'm such a huge music fan. I can just about cope if I have a seat. If I'm standing for the gig I am always in terrible pain in my whole body by the end. Also I don't like crowds. I usually get too hot and then dehydrated and that leads to a headache which leads to nausea and sometimes vomiting.