Part 5: What is Stimming in Autism? 

Krishna has always expressed excitement and happiness in a very particular way—by tensing his entire body and vigorously shaking his head.

When he was a baby, people smiled and said it was adorable. When he was a toddler, they still found it endearing. But after his diagnosis, something shifted—not in him, but in how people saw him.

Now, when he does the same thing, people look at him first, and then at me.

I meet their eyes and smile, just long enough for them to grow uncomfortable and look away.

Today, when Krishna feels overwhelmed—so long as it isn’t caused by pain—he still expresses himself through movement. He may tense his body, shake his hands or head, clap rhythmically, or bow repeatedly, almost like a Kung Fu master caught in fast forward.

This repetitive behaviour is called stimming.

What does stimming look like?

Children and adults on the autism spectrum stim in many different ways. It may be physical—hand flapping, rocking, jumping, spinning. It may be verbal—repeating words, sounds, or phrases. It may be sensory—mouthing objects or playing with saliva. Or it may involve objects—twirling threads, spinning coins, arranging things in patterns.

And here’s something worth pausing over.

Stimming is not unique to autism.

We all do it.

When you jiggle your leg unconsciously during a meeting, when you drum your fingers on a table while thinking, when you twirl your hair absentmindedly or chew your nails during stress—these are all forms of stimming.

The difference is not in the behaviour itself.

The difference is in how visible it is, how repetitive it becomes, and how uncomfortable it makes others feel.

Then why is autistic stimming treated as a problem?

Part of the answer may lie deep in our evolutionary past.

Thousands of years ago, survival depended on blending in with the group. Anyone who behaved unpredictably could draw attention, create risk, or disrupt coordination. That instinct—to notice difference and correct it—still exists, even if the world around us has changed.

So when a child flaps, rocks, or claps in a way that stands out, the response is almost automatic:

“Stop that.”
“Good hands.”
“Sit properly.”
“Don’t pamper him.”

But rarely do we pause to ask the more important question.

Why is the child doing this in the first place?

What stimming really does

For an autistic individual, stimming is not random or meaningless behaviour. It is a way of regulating an internal state that feels overwhelming, unpredictable, and often distressing.

When the world becomes too loud, too bright, too chaotic, or too intense, stimming provides something steady, familiar, and controllable. It helps them anchor themselves.

It reduces overload.
It restores focus.
It calms the nervous system.

If you were placed in an environment where every sound was amplified, every light was harsh, every touch was jarring, and every moment demanded more than your system could handle, wouldn’t you also reach for something—anything—that helped you cope?

When we force a child to stop harmless stimming, we are not correcting behaviour.

We are taking away the very tool they are using to survive that moment.

And when that tool is removed, the pressure doesn’t disappear. It builds.

Sometimes quietly. Sometimes rapidly.

Until it spills over—into meltdowns, aggression, or complete shutdown.

When should stimming be managed?

This does not mean that all stimming should be left unchecked.

There are situations where guidance is necessary, not to enforce conformity, but to ensure safety and well-being.

When the behaviour is physically unsafe—such as running into traffic, balancing on dangerous heights, or hurting oneself or others—it must be redirected.

When it is indirectly harmful—like chewing on clothes to the point of illness or engaging in behaviours that may lead to infection—it needs to be gently steered toward safer alternatives.

And when it is socially inappropriate—such as removing clothes in public or engaging in private behaviours in shared spaces—it becomes important to teach context and boundaries.

But even in these situations, the goal is not suppression.

It is understanding first, and then redirection.

The hidden layer: pain

Over time, I have learnt something critical about Krishna.

He does not hurt himself unless he is in pain.

But he cannot always identify that pain or communicate it in ways that we instinctively understand.

So instead, he may hit his head or body—not because he wants to hurt himself, but because he is trying to distract himself from something deeper and far more uncomfortable.

An autistic adult once shared something with me that has stayed with me ever since.

She suffered from severe migraines as a child and was nonspeaking for many years. When the migraines struck, she had no way to describe what she was feeling, nor any framework to understand it. So she would bang her head against the wall, over and over again, in an attempt to “hit the pain away.”

When I heard that, my eyes blurred.

Because that is exactly what Krishna does.

And in that moment, the responsibility became very clear.

Not to stop the behaviour.
But to understand what lies beneath it.

What this looks like in our daily life

Krishna jumps, claps, and twirls thread. He chews on his clothes and plays with his saliva.

I actively try to redirect the last two, because they affect his health. Soggy clothes make him prone to catching a cold, and saliva play can lead to infections.

The rest?

They help him.

So I let them be—even when well-meaning people tell me I am being too lenient, that I am “spoiling” him, that I should make him behave “properly.”

A note to parents and caregivers

Allowing your child to stim—especially in public—is not always easy.

You will be judged.
You will be advised.
You will be corrected.

But it helps to remember this:

Your child is not trying to misbehave.

Your child is trying to cope.

What I hope you take away

Stimming is not a problem to be eliminated. It is a response to an overwhelming world.

Preventing harmless stimming in the name of social conformity does not help the child—it increases their distress.

Harmful stims should be understood and redirected.
Harmless ones should be accepted.

Because sometimes, what looks unusual to us…
is exactly what allows them to stay regulated, present, and safe.