Neuro-Diverse Communication:

Speaking as an Autistic

Strengths and challenges associated with being on the spectrum vary hugely. But generally speaking it all boils down to sensitivity - sensitivity can manifest in a lot of different ways and in a lot of different areas; Like sensitivity to physical sensations or emotions; Environmental sensitivity to spaces, light, or atmosphere; Mental sensitivity to patterns, numbers, descriptors, or other kinds of information. This means that us neuro-diverse people tend to be the first ones to notice when something isn’t working optimally - sometimes before there are words to describe, or spaces to explore, new ways of doing things. What I’ve been noticing, pretty much my whole life, is the way we speak: the words we choose, the tones we use, the way body language influences our meaning, the attention and effort to apply to being understood or understanding each other. I can often recognize immediately and simultaneously what is said, what is received, and what is intended by a single statement. My conclusion? There is something seriously wrong with our communication.

I notice shame or guilt or self-deprecation embedded in almost everything we say - the jokes we make, the ways we distract ourselves or others from moments of vulnerability, the implications we layer and layer on until the true meaning is disguised or buried but communicated nonetheless.

Realizing I’m on the spectrum has forced me to ask questions about how I communicate, as well. It has forced me to be intentional and mindful in a way most people don’t need to. Being a therapist, I was already paying close attention, but this awareness has only continued to grow. And so I’ve noticed that there are real differences in the way people communicate depending on whether I’m speaking with someone neuro-diverse or neuro-typical. Or even depending on the kinds of neuro-diversity I’m working with.

Client’s are always asking me how they can better navigate social conversations: How they can be better understood, how they can avoid these terrible but brief moments of embarrassment or self-consciousness. And while there are, of course, ways we can practice better communication: learn the scripts, accept the risks, remind ourselves that no one is noticing so much about us as we notice about ourselves. Most of the time I find myself responding to these stories of miscommunication with questions of my own: Why is it always the neuro-diverse people’s responsibility to make communication easier while already doing so much of the hard work? When someone is learning a new language, do we expect them to take on the blame for every miscommunication? Isn’t it more respectful to acknowledge and appreciate that they have already done the difficult thing? Why are neuro-typicals allowed to change the topic when they get bored, but autistics aren’t? 

And my most pressing question: Why have we all assumed that neuro-typical ways of communicating are better than neuro-diverse ones? I specialized in relationships and communication before I specialized in ADHD or Autism. I don’t give different advice to people based on diagnoses or identifiers. I always work by the same rules: avoid assumptions (like mind-reading or predicting the future or projection), direct is always better, and don’t assume that understanding and connection will come easily or quickly. These things take work and time and we are all deserving of that investment. 

What Autistics Do Better

Autism was originally described as a deficit in social communication. These days, non-pathologizing ways of speaking about Autism refer to it as different - neutral. I’m going to take a rather daring step forward and argue, now, that in some ways, autistic ways of speaking are actually superior.

I have a theory that neuro-typcials make many more mistakes in communication then people on the spectrum do, and they notice much fewer of them. After all, difficulty to communicate goes both ways between autistics and allistics. But autistics communicating with autistics? Easy as cake. I think this is because, while there are mistakes autistics are more likely to make, there are also things neuro-typicals do that those of us on the spectrum are simply less prone to:

• Forgetting what they said or what is said to them, repeating themselves often.

• More inconsistency, changing their mind from one conversation to the next without acknowledging or explaining it.

• Exaggerating or minimizing, making it difficult to get an accurate perception of the thing they are describing.

• Rushing through topics of conversation without taking time to reflect on what it is they want to portray.

• Paying more attention to the immediate gratification of the conversation rather than the long-term consequences of it.

• Relying on non-verbal cues, which are easier to misinterpret.

• Investing more in their own participation in a conversation rather than in hearing from the other person.

• Relying on implication to say important things (compliments or gratitude or apologies) instead of speaking directly.

• Relying on routine forms of communicating rather then branching out into new scripts or avenues (ie. using text messages or phone calls to help manage overwhelm).

• Using scripts that carry implications that may no longer be relevant or appropriate. (‘How are you?’ is a maddeningly broad question and trips me up every time. It is often asked out of politeness rather than genuine interest.)

• Where neuro-diverse people’s might default more to honesty and vulnerability, neuro-typicals tend to default to a more neural or deceptive way of communicating.

Flow

Flow is a state of heightened engagement, motivation, and enjoyment. Research shows that flow is experienced more often, and in different ways, by people on the spectrum. It happens a lot when we participate in our special interests, when we feel safe and free to behave how we want, and when we are participating in rewarding conversation. It happens more when we’re speaking with people who think and speak like us. In fact, according to the article linked below by Heasement and colleagues, flow might account for many neuro-diverse characteristics like hyperfixation, time-blindness, issues with task-management, and reliance on routine. Historically, flow has been sometimes categorized as a failing or a symptom (like an inability to participate ‘normally’ in work or social life). But flow is one of my favorite things.

In flow we aren’t worrying about how we’re being perceived, about how much time or space we’re taking up, and we are less likely to be self-conscious. In flow interruptions are expressions of excitement and understanding, rather than rudeness or arrogance. In flow I am not trying to communicate in a neuro-typical way, I’m not trying to do anything at all - I just am. In flow I experience an almost spiritual connection with other people. Flow is one-on-one conversation with my closest friends, it’s almost every session I participate in as a therapist. Flow is one of my greatest joys and powerful tools. And it’s true that flow can be problematic - it disconnects us from our own bodies, it often brings an energy-crash immediately after it ends, it can take up too much time and attention. But it is nonetheless exhilarating. It is one of the things that Autistics get to benefit from regularly and often. And isn’t that king of joy what we’re all really working so hard towards? 

Our value or devaluation of flow reflects, to me, our priorities as a culture. What is it that we really want? That we’re willing to fight for? Protecting the status quo? Or exploring and experimenting with new ways of making connection? To me, autistic ways of being and speaking represent the next step in our social evolution. One that could potentially bring us together in healing or in joy. Connect us in ways we haven’t yet been able to imagine.

Supporting links:

Monotropism by Arefaine - explaining the different ways Autistics take in information during social conversations

Autistic speech & nonverbal communication differences by Bercovici

Towards autistic flow theory: A non-pathologizing conceptual approach by Heasemen, Williams, Charura, Hamilton, Milton, and Murray