Four Phrases It’s Frustrating to Hear — Understanding Autism/ADHD
You might be thinking: ‘Matt. A numbered list? Not even the top 4, just 4?Have you run out of motivation and original ideas?’
Honestly? Yep.
Look, have you been to Iceland in January?
It gets light at 11am. It’s dark before 5pm. There’s currently a thick layer of ice over the entire country, which means that every time you go outside there is not an insignificant risk of serious injury or death. It is currently -8°C (that’s 17°F for those who measure their temperatures incorrectly). The air is so dry that my skin is aching. The wind is so bracing, it literally feels like you’re being attacked by someone you’ve wronged. It suuuuuucks.
So, excuse me for half-assing this one but, honestly, I just needed to smash out an easy one to get back in the saddle. We’ve all been there.*
Right, preamble over. What are we talking about today?
I don’t think neurotypical people know how or what neurodivergent people feel.** Which totally makes sense. We see the world in a completely different way. That’s the whole thing, really. And, for what it’s worth, I genuinely think the world is (slowly) becoming increasingly cognisant of that fact. Which is awesomesauce. Buuuuuut… I don’t think our general use of language has caught up.
Let me explain what I mean with some relevant examples from my life. When I was a youth, back in the before times, if I thought something wasn’t cool then I would say that that thing was gay. Acccordingly, homework was gay. Rainy break-times were gay. Doing the dishes was gay. As a bisexual adult, I look back at this use of language and it makes me quite sad. Because even though I no longer use that word in that way, I am conscious that that particular use of language was alienating to anyone queer. It made or could have made some people feel bad. So I stopped. There are multiple other relevant example (many of which I don’t feel 100% comfortable typing) but words with similar effects might include ‘retarded’ (the most unlistenable Black Eyed Peas song), ‘spastic’ (spasticity is a serious medical condition***), ‘ladies and gentlemen’ (erasing those who don’t identify that way), ‘man up’ (unhelpful gender dynamics) and I could go on. You get the idea.
What I’m saying is that commonly used, ‘normal’ language can upset other folks. And part of society’s job, in this humble writer’s opinion, is to continually evolve our use of language to be ever more accurate, inclusive and friendly. Or to put it another way: some phrases that don’t upset most people can really upset some people. And, if you aim or want to use language inclusively and kindly, it’s good to be conscious of that.
So, to that end, I thought I would add 4 phrases that frustrate or upset me as a neurodivergent person, whether or not the speaker means for them to at all.
Now, before I (finally) start this list, there’s one additional thing I’d like to say as preamble. We have all said these phrases. Myself included. This is not a witch hunt or designed to make anyone feel bad. I deliberately led with examples of myself using old-fashioned, non-inclusive language to show that this is something everybody does. It’s part of the natural process of linguistic evolution. So when you read this and go, ‘Oh no! I’ve said this to Matt directly!’, please don’t stress. Matt has said this directly to manyfolks too.
This is just a list of 4 phrases that I, as a neurodivergent person, find really frustrating. And maybe, just maybe, we could stop saying. Fair enough? Cool.
Ok, let’s go!
Frustrating Phase the First: “Just read the room”
Common variants include: ‘you’ll get a sense of the vibe as we go’, ‘go with the flow’, ‘feel it out’, ‘you’ll get it, don’t worry’.
I’m good at many things. I can remember numbers I read once 10 years ago. I can give an impromptu speech on any topic at any moment.**** I am always calm in a crisis. But having AuDHD*****, there are also many, many things that I am not good at. And one of them is reading a room. In fact, ‘reading a room’ is functionally an impossibility.
The best way I can explain this to someone is to compare it to visiting a foreign culture whose language you do not speak. Perhaps even an alien culture. I’m English, so for me, a good example might be going to a Taiwanese funeral (more strippers than you might expect), a Kenyan wedding (where Dad spits on the bride) or an Icelandic Christmas (ready to silently read books in pyjamas?).
If you can’t speak the language, it is not at all obvious what’s going on. And it’s incredibly hard to work out. Which in turn makes social anxiety go whoosh! Which makes it even harder to understand what’s going on! Unusual things that you can’t parse are happening all over the place. And the advice you’re given: ‘read the room’.
That’s kind of what it’s like to be socially autistic in my experience. Everyone else seems to know (or not care about) the rules. And they’re all speaking a different language.****** Not only that but social interactions are already a struggle. The noise, the masking, the lack of control or plan, guessing how people feel. It’s already really hard. And the idea that I’m magically going to work out how to speak another language and decipher its customs in a loud, social setting is, to put it kindly, somewhat massively overly ambitious.
Now to be clear, I’m not saying us AuDHDers can’t learn social languages. We absolutely can. I tell my Mum her new haircut looks nice every single time (whether I notice or not. She tells me before she goes.). If I make myself a hot drink, I offer everyone in the immediate vicinity one. I don’t walk directly behind women when it’s dark. Anyone, including my neurodivergent homies, can learn these things. But, doing it on the fly in a social situation? That’s like learning to land a plane for the first time while it’s already crashing. Without instructions. In a language you don’t speak. As I said, to put it kindly, it’s somewhat massively overly ambitious.
So, in effect, if you tell me to ‘read the room’ you might as well be saying ‘use the force, Luke’. That’s not practical advice. It’s literally science fiction.
What I’d say instead: ‘Do you have any questions about this social interaction?’, ‘Is there anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable?’, ‘Can I give you a rundown of what to expect here?’
Frustrating Phrase the Second: ‘Yeah, but you had a tone’
Common variants include: ‘You know how you said it’, ‘That was passive aggressive and you know it’, ‘You know how you talk to people’.
So one of the many fun things that comes with my autism is that I have, and I cannot stress this enough, literally no idea how I am talking. Like, I have no idea what you hear when I talk. The volume, the tone, the timbre (thank you, GCSE music!). Nope, none of that. I have no idea.
Ira Kraemer, an autistic writer and advocate, says it best. She writes in an excellent article on autistic tone of voice that:
“I do not know what my “tone of voice” is doing when I talk.
I do not know how quiet I am talking (for other autistic people, how loud).
I do not know what signal I am sending with my “tone.”
I do not know what my “tone of voice” represents to neurotypical people.
I do not know what emotion or intention neurotypical people think I am sending to them.”
Damn right, Ira. I’ll give you some examples from my life:
When I’m passionate and not feeling heard, I start to shout (apparently). I’m slowly starting to recognise this as it’s happening but I generally have no idea that I’m doing it. Whilst recently working for an arts organisation, I was literally asked why I kept shouting at my colleagues. I honestly hadn’t even noticed. I just remember feeling like I wasn’t being heard. To be clear, I was definitely shouting (which I shouldn’t have been). I just hadn’t noticed.
Or, and this is a classic example, I have lost count of the times that I have asked someone I care about a genuine question to be told that I’m being critical, upsetting them and to stop. I honestly still haven’t fully worked this one out to be brutally honest. I often ask ‘why are you doing things like that?’ because I’m genuinely interested in why they’re choosing that course of action. No matter what my attempted tone is, it’s perceived as criticism. Even if I lead with something like ‘This is a genuine question’. And then when trying to repair the subsequent ruptures, I’m met with the aforementioned frustrating phrase.
“You must know how it sounded”
Being told I know what I’m doing with my tone is a little bit like telling a deaf person that they must know how they sound (I imagine. Feel free to correct me). Actually, by definition, they really don’t.
What I’d say instead: ‘Hey, you might not realise but your tone is pretty XXXXX right now, is that what you mean to be doing?’, ‘You’re shouting right now, you realise that, right?’, ‘Do you mean to be so passive aggressive right now?’, ‘Out of curiosity, what tone are you aiming for?’.
Frustrating Phrase The Third: ‘Why are you making that face?’
Common variants include: ‘don’t give me that look’, ‘what is that face meant to mean?’
Admittedly, we’re treading on familiar ground here.
I think the best way to explain my experience of this is to go right back to the beginning of my acting career. When I was 14, I was cast in my first theatrical production: my school’s attempt at Romeo and Juliet. I was cast as Paris, the wussy prince who doesn’t get the girl (a role I’d come to be cast as with startling regularity). I was quite nervous as rehearsals began.
I remember that one particular rehearsal early in the process was just me, Romeo, Juliet and the drama teacher, Miss Crosswell. The scene we were rehearsing was my ‘big scene’. I had to confront Romeo and fight him with a sword before dying dramatically. I took to the stage-fighting with aplomb (or whatever the prepubescent version of aplomb is — unearned confidence?). I died convincingly enough. I was happy. But, Miss Crosswell had notes. Lots of notes. And all of these notes were about my face. And that it didn’t seem to be doing anything.
After quickly realising my lack of skills in this area, for the rest of the rehearsal, Miss Crosswell literally told me exactly what faces to make for each expression or emotion. Like, in excruciating detail. Muscle by muscle. Eyebrows up. More smile. Angrier eyes. And to be clear, that was incredibly helpful. I wasn’t going to get it without that level of help.
At the end of this rehearsal, Miss Crosswell bequeathed me the nickname ‘Keanu’ due to my limited range of facial acting.*******
I was and remain a thoroughly mediocre actor. But that’s not the point. The point is that I don’t have a lot of control over my face. At all. And, the limited control that I do have is exclusively learned.
For those who know me in life, I want to be clear that I think that I literally have two deliberate or conscious faces. Smiling and as much eye contact as I can stomach (to show I’m actively listening) and the Dreamworks character with the raised eyebrow (because people seem to like it). That’s it. If I’m doing anything else then it’s most likely unintentional, or I’m copying something I saw on TV. Or Miss Crosswell told me that’s a face people make and I continue to trust her 20 years later.
So, this is all a long way of saying that being told I must know what my face is doing is like being told I know what temperature I’m currently exuding. I’m occassionally aware of it but it’s not really something I’m consciously controlling. Maybe don’t read too much into or what about what my face is doing all that much? You know… like Keanu.********
What I’d say instead: ‘Your face is showing XXXX, is that deliberate?’, ‘What are you feeling right now, I can’t read your face’, ‘What do you think your face is giving off right now? Because I’m getting XXXX’, ‘What’s this face?’
Frustrating Phrase The Fourth: ‘Don’t overthink it’
Common variants include: ‘You don’t have to go into every detail about everything’, ‘Why do you take everything so seriously?’, ‘Wouldn’t life be easier if you just let this go?’
Last one. We’re getting there… Actually, this one really irritates me, so let’s unpack it a bit.
The first thing to say on this is that neurodivergent people usually don’t ‘overthink’ by choice. The person with OCD doesn’t choose to obsess over the details of their life. The person with ADHD doesn’t choose to get lost down the garden path of random thoughts (look forward to more on this in subsequent articles!). The anxious person doesn’t choose to focus or obsess on all the things that may be dangerous or scary to them. The autistic person doesn’t necessarily intend to hyper-analytical (and therefore usually critical). It’s not a choice.
We’re not overthinking. This is how our brains work.*********
There’s not much more to say on this point. A helpful way to think about this is telling a neurodivergent person not to ‘overthink’ is effectively the saying ‘don’t be sad’ to a depressed person. Or, ‘don’t do drugs/alcohol’ to an addict. It’s so reductive to the point it’s basically insulting. Oh, ‘don’t overthink’? Oh, now you mention it, I’ll just turn it off! Thanks so much!
Right! Next issue with this frustrating phrase: I don’t think it’s what people are actually trying to say.
To be clear, the phrase ‘don’t overthink it’ doesn’t necessarily have to be frustrating. There are plenty of times where it could be helpful to point out that I’m overthinking. Did I need to spend 30 minutes this morning deciding if I wanted to use bold, italics or both on the ‘common variants include’ sections of this article? Did I really need to do a gram by gram price comparison of all the pasta in Bonus yesterday? (No. I wasn’t there to buy pasta and didn’t). Was it helpful to spend a literal evening wondering whether I really meant affect or effect in a conversation already long over? Do I need to worry about what all the people on the street think about me individually? Probably not. So, clearly, there are times when I overthink and it is helpful to point that out.
But that’s not when people say it, is it? We know when people say it. People say it when you’re thinking or saying more about something than they want to or have the energy for. Rapid fire examples, I choose you!
- When my boss at a tour company told me I was ‘overthinking’ safety**********, what they really meant was that they didn’t want to talk about it any more.
- When a colleague on the board of an arts foundation told me I was ‘overthinking’ governance issues, what they really meant was that they didn’t care about it or see it as important.
- When my family tell me I’m ‘overthinking’ being a Dad, they just don’t want to talk about it any more.
And to be clear, it is possible I was overthinking in any/all of these situations. But, to be even clearer, that’s not really what they were getting at, I don’t think.
The reason that this is a frustrating phrase (to me) is because, in my experiene, it’s almost exclusively used to shout down conversation. The person saying it’s overthinking doesn’t want to talk about this any more. Right? It’s not like people say ‘Stop overthinking because it’s all been taken care of and here is how that concern has already been dealt with and here’s all the information to stop you worrying’. Or ‘I think you’re overthinking this. What can I say to help reassure you?’. They usually don’t address why you’re thinking on the subject. They don’t check what or why you’re thinking what you’re thinking. They don’t check if your ‘overthinking’ is an expression of your own comfort, anxiety, needs etc. It’s a conversation ender. It’s a full stop. It’s closing down the conversation to your concerns.
To be blunt, most uses of this particular frustrating phrase actually feel like someone saying ‘This doesn’t affect me. This affects you. And I don’t care about that, to be honest. I’m done talking about this because I’ve gotten what I need from this interaction/conversation.’ And that’s really frustrating.
I can hear a few of you thinking that you say it to comfort people. I know that many people do. But think of it this way. We’ve all been told ‘don’t be sad’ or ‘cheer up’ when we’re sad. Was it literally ever worked? No, right? If ‘don’t overthink it’ was meant to comfort, it would invite comment from the person overthinking; it wouldn’t shut it down.
Oof. Got a bit real there, eh? OK, I’m now going to retreat into somewhat less controversial waters. The third and final reason that this is a frustrating phrase is that the concept of ‘overthinking’ is broad and generally doesn’t make sense. Hear me out:
So there’s a phenomenon that a lot of neurodivergent folks are very familiar with that I’d wager that most neurotypical folks don’t experience. I call it ‘complimentary criticism’.
What is ‘complimentary criticism’ you ask? It is when someone (usually neurotypical) attempts to insult or criticise you, (or uses a phrase that is commonly understood to negative) but, when you really think about it, the contents are not negative or insulting at all. Some examples:
- When a former boss called me ‘horny for safety’, he meant it as an insult. But being passionate that none of my clients get hurt doesn’t feel like an insult to me.
- When people say ‘I’m never wrong’, they mean it as an insult. But all I hear is that I’m well researched. I tend not to talk about things I don’t know and thoroughly research the things I do talk about. Still not an insult.
- When people say that I dress loudly or garishly, I’m pretty sure they mean it as an insult. But my clothes are rad. The bright colours and perfect textures feel amazing and I love the way I dress. It’s quintessential dopamine dressing (watch this space for more on this). It’s not an insult. It’s a complimentary criticism.
And I think ‘overthinking’ is the same thing. Because overthinking seems to me to be a really weird criticism. Because thinking is a good thing, right? Like, fundamentally, thinking is something we encourage as a society. Stops us dying; helps us solve our problem; makes us creative. All that jazz. In the same way we encourage folks to be kind, considerate or patient, thinking is something we’re all pretty sure is a societal good. Right? Right. I can feel you nodding. Excellent work. We’re so close to being done. We’re all gonna make it.
It follows, then, that ‘overthinking’ is an over-abundance of a good thing, which, traditionally speaking, isn’t usually considered a problem. In fact, ‘thinking too much’ strikes me as similar to being too handsome, being too kind or being too considerate. Sure, technically you are doing more of the postitive attribute than is socially usual or strictly necessary. But, even if you don’t have to be maximally kind, hot or thoughtful (and you really don’t), it really isn’t an issue if you are. You could even argue it’s a good thing (It definitely is). Would you rather people put in the ‘normal’ amount of thinking? Or less? It’s nonsense.
So, in summary, ‘don’t overthink it’ is frustrating because
- People who overthink often can’t help it.
- People use the phrase to shut down conversations in the guise of offering comfort.
- The idea of ‘overthinking’ is stupid because too much of a good thing is rarely bad.
What I’d say instead: ‘You look worried. Is there any way I can reassure you?’, ‘It looks like your mind is racing. Is everything OK?’, ‘Is there any information you’d like about our plan that would help you enjoy it?’
So, what did we learn here?
As usual, that I lack the capacity for brevity. But, seriously, if there’s one takeaway from this piece I’d like to stick with you, it is that declaring how someone else feels or thinks based on external identifiers is rarely a good idea. In fact, it is often foolish.
We don’t all think the same. In fact, my pet theory is that literally none of us experience the world the same way. So, before you say something that assumes the thoughts, feelings or intentions of another human, maybe just don’t? Maybe just ask them what they mean or intend instead. Then believe them. I promise they’ll appreciate it, neurodivergent or not.
Oh! And it’s fucking cold and dark in Iceland in January and it is sapping my writing force. Remember that too.
Thanks for reading lovelies. Until next time!
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You’re the best. And very attractive. Yep, all of you.
*I have no idea what you’re laughing at.
** I can literally hear my neurodivergent readers going ‘No shit!’. I know, I know. But it’s not an obvious to the neurotypicals, OK? (But I agree it maybe should be! Shit… they’re reading this. Um, how about that local sports team?)
*** I will always be grateful to Amy Hawkins who really pushed back on my usage of this word. I’ll always remember the patience and passion of her explaining how my words made people feel. Thanks Amy; you’re rad.
**** I’m fully aware that that’s a talent that needs to used sparingly. Regardless of whether I actually do that in practice.
***** I’ve seen influencers write this as a shorthand for autism and ADHD. i apologise if I’m using it wrong. As covered, I am no youth.
****** There is increasingly exciting work about framing autism as speaking a different language. I encourage you to peruse that at your own leisure. Start here.
******* I know this might upset some folks, but this was 2003. Keanu’s reputation wasn’t what it is today. We’re talking the era of terrible Matrix sequels and mediocre rom-coms.
******** Mum, I understand you’re mad. I’m not saying he’s bad or that he’s not made multiple classics. Point Break is timeless, The Matrix changed movies and I happen to love the Johns Wick. But I don’t think it’s controversial to say that his success is not really down to his facial acting. He’s a movie star, not an actor. Right? I think sensible people can disagree about this.
********* This actually represents a huge and recent change of heart for me, so I would like to thank Jessie LoMonaco for painstakingly breaking this down for me.
********** The actual thing they said was that, and I quote, I was too ‘horny for safety’. Which is a truly spectacular description I hope is in my eulogy.
