🕹️ Meltdowns in Simlish: An Autistic Girl’s Life in The Sims

There are two types of people:
1. People who played The Sims for fun
2. And people like me — who lived The Sims like it was my part-time emotional support job.

As an autistic girl, I didn’t just play The Sims. I immersed. I built entire neighbourhoods. Created multi-generational families. Named every single pet. Made Sims based on TV characters, celebrity crushes, and sometimes just to recreate the Basil Brush cast in suburban chaos.

But with that kind of deep love… came meltdowns.

Because when you’re autistic, emotionally invested, and your comfort game breaks, glitches, or deletes itself?

That’s not just a minor inconvenience.
That’s a full-body, world-ending, meltdown-level event.

💾 1. The Save File That Vanished

I once had the perfect Sim family. Big house. Two kids. A dog named Toastie.
And then one day? The file corrupted.

I restarted the game and… gone.
Everything I built — gone.
My mum: “You can just make a new family.”
Me: cue full-on devastation meltdown

It wasn’t “just a game.” It was mine. And now it was pixels in the void.

🍼 2. The Toddler Got Taken by the Social Worker

I was distracted — building a pool or buying 67 lamps or something.
Suddenly, a van pulls up.
The Sim toddler I’d named after myself?
GONE.

Did I cry for two hours over a digital baby? Yes.
Did I delete the entire save out of shame? Also yes.

🏊‍♀️ 3. I Forgot the Pool Ladder (…yeah, you know.)

Listen. I didn’t know they couldn’t get out. I just thought it looked cleaner without a ladder!
My Sim swam… and swam… and then floated.

The Grim Reaper appeared.
I sobbed.
And my mum had to gently explain that accidental Sim murder wasn’t real.

Tell that to my soul.

🚽 4. Public Bathroom Humiliation

My Sim peed herself at a wedding.
In front of her crush.
Everyone gasped and laughed.

I immediately paused the game, quit without saving, and went for a sulk snack.

🎉 5. Expansion Pack Joy… Crushed

I saved up all my birthday money for The Sims: Hot Date.
The box. The manual. The excitement.
And then?

Game. Wouldn’t. Launch.

Meltdown level: high.
Mum tried to install it. Dad tried rebooting the computer.
Meanwhile, I was rocking and repeating “I just wanted my Sim to go to a restaurant” like it was a personal tragedy.

🧠 Why It Was So Much More Than a Game

For me, The Sims wasn’t just entertainment. It was:

• Predictable — comforting routines and outcomes
• Creative — a world I controlled when real life felt chaotic
• Safe — I could try things, fix things, change things
• Mine

So when it broke?
It felt like I broke.

And those meltdowns weren’t “overreacting.”
They were valid responses to a deep disruption in my joy and regulation.

🎤 Daisy’s Corner: Sim Chaos Edition

Daisy says:
“Babes, if I lost a house I’d built brick-by-brick for four hours because the dog glitched through a wall and froze the game? I’d scream too.

Also, why do they keep peeing on the floor? Like, is the toilet not RIGHT THERE?!”

💬 Final Thoughts

If you’ve ever cried over a deleted Sim, a glitchy wedding, or an expansion pack that refused to install — you are not alone.

Especially if you were a neurodivergent kid just trying to find a little control and joy in a digital world.

We were not being dramatic.
We were processing grief in Simlish.

And honestly?
We deserved better.