StrypeyEver since I read Wild of Brain, I've been thinking about the concept of "situational mutism". Anissa's preferred term for what's often called "selective mutism", and definitely mine now I'm aware of it.
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The more I ponder on it, the more I remember times in my life where I couldn't speak.
It wasn't that I didn't know what to say, which is something that can happen to everyone in stressful times. I remember having a clear idea of exactly what I wanted or needed to express. But somewhere between my thoughtstream and my mouth, I experienced a mysterious and immovable blockage.
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A classic example of this is in memories from my early teens of trying to talk to girls. Sure I was shy, and nervous, and everything else any heterosexual teenage boy experiences. But it was more than that.
I remember planning out exactly what I was going to say to a girl I fancied, plucking up the courage to walk up to her and start a conversation, and then shutting down. Like a possum in the headlights.
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It's like inside my head I was screaming the words. But on the outside I was just staring blankly, my mouth hanging open. Just unable to make the words in my mind come out of my mouth.
I remember being haunted by dreams like this too. Where I tried to scream for help, at the top of my lungs, but my voice came out as hoarse whisper, or just ... silence.
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Another example of situational mutism is in dealings with authority figures; parents, teachers, etc. Especially when they were angrily scolding me. I remember getting to the part of the conversation where they'd stop, look piercingly at me, and say 'what do you have to say for yourself young man'?
I'd have a clear idea of what I wanted to explain, but I was too overwhelmed by the volume of their verbiage. Gasping for breath in the flood of words, and totally unable to say any of my own.
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I'm feeling quite emotional thinking about all this. Triggered I think by some reflections on my last serious romantic relationship, and how I seem unable to finish moving on from it.
Then triggered further by a meeting in which I had to focus and absorb a lot of information about a new area of work. The stress amplified, by the usual arm wrestling with various bits voice conferencing tech.
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I'm just so glad I was lucky enough to stumble into autistic community, where I was welcomed and identified as "one of us". Lucky enough to have a generous friend with the means to fund a diagnostic appointment - initially for my ADHD - that they booked for me. Lucky enough that the same friend knows Anissa and lent me a copy of Wild of Brain.
My heart breaks for pre-2020 Strypey, who had no idea just how deep his neurodivergent wormhole really goes 😥
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