Aisle Be Back: Sensory overload and small victories

This post is in response to a discussion on Facebook, 05.05.2026

Having trouble shopping with an autistic youngster? I understand this problem only too well: from the time my son was a toddler, it was impossible to take him shopping with me.

Anything (and I do mean ANYTHING) could trigger his meltdown. Sometimes I could identify the cause of it (even if it took days after the event) – constantly playing the ‘video’ of the latest ‘catastrophe’ in my head until I found a more or less rational explanation. My boy was bombarded with noises from all directions, drowned in lights, attacked by smells and disoriented by people moving in chaotic patterns. His tinted glasses helped but it was not enough. We can’t adjust all the places to his needs.

For example, I couldn’t enter whatever supermarket we opted to visit beforehand demanding all the lights were switched off, whilst escorting all mothers with young children out and ordering the rest to move one by one in a straight line, keeping their voices down (or even not talking at all while my son was at the premises)?

The solution was to desensitise him to different places and situations. We started with shopping.

Operation ‘Supermarket’ was likely to be long-term and needed a lot of planning and organisation. We decided that every Sunday morning we’d go shopping in a big supermarket (the same supermarket at the first stage of the adventure), equipped with tinted glasses and ear-defenders against the visual and auditory ‘offence’. Starting with small doses of the shopping experience, we hoped to desensitise my boy’s ability to tolerate the stimuli that other people were comfortable with.

The first time was the most successful. However, it was too early to celebrate. Yes, Alyosha did cope with his first visit to the supermarket, but his ‘stay’ there lasted all of 30 seconds. We went in with a trolley (and determination) yet had to leave pretty soon afterwards. Still, it was a start!

The week after, we managed to reach the first aisle and spent nearly two minutes inside. The following weeks, our shopping experience lasted longer and longer and longer and I realised he was finally beginning to get accustomed to the foreign nature of the place and the stimuli.

Fast-forward a year: our shopping trips were no problem (not only in this supermarket but at any other shop). Alyosha happily pushed the trolley, zigzagging along the aisles, correcting ‘the wrongs’ on his way (picking up misplaced things and putting them where they should be, straightening the rows of tins and cans, etc).

From time to time, there were moments when my interference was necessary – for such situations we’d developed a scenario to help him relax and focus on his duties. So, if he heard a baby crying [a very disturbing sound for him] far away from us at the other end of the supermarket, he looked at me and officially announced: ‘A baby is crying,’ expecting me to say my lines of our pre-approved ‘play script’. (This was not the time to develop flexibility). I obliged: ‘Yes, the baby is crying because it’s small and stupid [I’ve always felt awkward saying this, but that's exactly what I said for the first time ☹]. You are big and clever, so you behave like an adult.’ Anyone could see that Alyosha felt much better and was doing his best not to react to the painful sound. But that wasn’t all, as I always added, ‘When you were a baby you also cried but now you’ve grown up.’

‘Alyosha had become comfortable in supermarkets.’

Has it been always ‘happily ever after’? Not quite. For example, to take him pre-Christmas shopping in an unfamiliar supermarket (about 25 years ago) was a big mistake. Our usual shopping adventure turned into a nightmare.

There were HUNDREDS of people in the supermarket; music, sales announcements, babies crying, people talking and moving in all directions, long queues… In 15 minutes, I could see that the overload was setting in. My boy was feeling attacked and I could see he was in pain. The last straw was when a lady tried to reach the shelf from behind while we were standing in a queue. Alyosha lashed out at her. I attempted to get him out as soon as possible but all the aisles were blocked by trolleys and people. Those around us were staring (and it did not help as Alyosha could not tolerate any direct perception). While I was dragging him out of the shop, he was kicking the trolleys, pushing people…

Outside my boy was crying, trying to explain: “It was a panic attack. My eyes hurt. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I won’t do it again. I will fight my panic.” I knew he was doing his best and told him that I understood what had happened, that it was not his fault, that I loved him…

Of course, the people around us had no idea why a handsome teenager was screaming like a baby and being aggressive to others; and his mother, instead of imposing some discipline, was saying how much she loved him… Oh, well…

In this way, I’ve learnt not to push it too far. But on the whole, Operation Supermarket has been a huge success.

Reference

Autism: Becoming a Professional Parent (1)