I've been asked to do a follow-on from my previous post on telling the whole story. As I touched on in that post, I am often prone to the exact opposite and telling nothing at all. Why?
I don't know that (or what) you want to know. Unless I am specifically told otherwise (eg. by being asked specific questions or instructed to inform a if x happens), I assume that what I might say will not be of interest.
It doesn't occur to me that it's something people would want to know. The previous point could be specific to person - I might say things on a certain topic to one person because they have specifically told me they are interested. But I will not extend this to the general population, because I have no information that anybody other than the person who said "please tell me" is interested. If nobody happens to have told me it's a topic I should tell people about, then I may just not tell anybody about it! I don't want to bore people and I don't want to get conversation wrong.
I don't want attention. Attention is a kind of demand to perform, which brings a risk of failure to which I am very sensitive. Speaking in a group of people, no thank you. Unless I am there for the actual purpose of sharing information on something I am well-informed about, but that is different - then I know what people want to know and I'm not relying on my personal performance; rather the factual content of what I am delivering. I have too many experiences of getting conversation wrong to want to invite attention.
I don't want you to know. I'm actually pretty open when people want to understand things, so it's relatively rare that this will be the reason I'm not telling someone something. If it is, it's probably because the thing makes me feel very vulnerable and I'm not ready to share it with them yet. Perhaps I fear I will be judged or misunderstood, or perhaps I am still judging myself about the thing and feeling intense shame. Sometimes I can also feel the need to be in control of information, especially if it is information that is valuable to me and I fear it losing its essence or it being mistreated if I let it get away from me. But more often than either of these, when I think I don't want you to know, it is actually exposure anxiety or demand avoidance being triggered.
Demand Avoidance. I wouldn't say I fit the whole profile of PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance), but I certainly experience some of its traits at times. An anxiety-driven need for control and drive to avoid everyday demands can strike at varying intervals or in varying contexts, making it difficult to do what is expected of me (by myself or others). For example, for as long as I can remember, way back in childhood, being asked how my day was has made me inexplicably feel angry. This has never changed. Even if I want to, I feel utterly unable to give that information when it is requested of me. I can't express the anger that rises when the question is asked, because it is not reasonable. I feel bad because it seems like I don't want to interact with people and am shut off from them. Basically asking that question is a recipe for disaster! Sometimes I want to tell the person about my day, but if they ask, I can't. Sometimes I want to be able to do it so much that I am rehearsing on the way home what I will tell them, telling myself it will be OK, but I make it into such a demand of myself that I still can't. Or they ask before I have said it that ruins everything. If nobody asks and I don't plan it, sometimes it can slip out sneakily later and fool my brain. Because I didn't have to, I could.
Exposure Anxiety. Perhaps even more pertinent than demand avoidance for me is exposure anxiety. I wrote a little on this here. It's basically a sensitivity to the awareness of your own existence. When attention is drawn to the fact that I am here, existing, I can find it hard to bear, resorting to avoidance, diversion or eventually retaliation responses. Things that may trigger that sensitivity include making decisions, making changes that might betray a personal choice, realising people are listening to you, your name being used, having a noticeable effect on the world, and many more. So obviously anything that invites attention, such as just talking can sometimes be difficult, never mind talking about something that matters to me and might betray the "me" that wants to stay safe in anonymity.
It doesn't occur to me that other people might not already know whatever it is that's in my head. I can't count the number of times I sat in my psychiatrist's office and had to be reminded that nobody can know what is in my head if I don't tell them... I mean logically I know that, but functionally I forget it quite often. Because things seem so obvious to me, I can't see how someone else could possibly not see them. I mean, I blinked for a split second longer than usual, how can they not know that I'm overwhelmed by emotions or memories and trying not to melt down?! I know that I'm worried about x, y, and z, they know about x, y, and z so they must know how worried I am. I have seen two pieces of information and come to a conclusion, so it would only be natural that everyone else has come to the same one, right?! I'm not quite sure how I manage to maintain this belief that I'm the same as everyone else when I know darned well I definitely am not!! I think I am getting better at this one in recent months though - certainly working hard on saying how I feel and what I need people to know (this is really hard, see exposure anxiety below) and checking whether I'm on the same page as other people rather than assuming.
I've already told somebody. This was a big one in the past and still pops up from time to time. Once I've told one person, I forget that not everybody knows. In my head, I have done "telling," I am past the "nobody knows what's in your head" stage, and so "knowing" is now the status quo. Except that of course "knowing" is only the status quo for the person I've told. If they remember me telling them. You can see the flaws in this brain glitch!
I forget that I could say things just because I want to say them. It's not only worth saying things that are so interesting somebody asked about them. There are many reasons someone might not ask,* but it doesn't necessarily mean they don't want to hear, and in the grand scheme of things, it usually wouldn't actually matter even if I said it and they weren't interested. But sometimes I forget all this!
*They might not know what I could tell them, so they don't ask. They might not want to be nosy. Many reasons, all of which affect me very strongly on the other side - I rarely ask questions because it doesn't occur to me that I can - I don't want to pry and I assume that people would tell me if they wanted me to know. I realise the complete incongruity of my approaches to sharing and receiving information!
I can't think of any things to say. Alternatively, I genuinely have nothing to say. This is my general state of being in everyday conversation. How do people think of stuff to say all the time?! I need a topic, specific pointers, questions, a thing to talk about. Even then I can struggle sometimes.
I struggle to say things purely because I want somebody to know. This is slightly different from saying things because I want to say them - it goes slightly deeper. It is hard for me to overcome the feeling that if I am saying something purely to help myself, uninvited by somebody else and to benefit myself in some way rather than at random, then I am greedy for taking up time and space and effectively asking something of them (listening). This ties in a bit with exposure anxiety too.
I don't know how to say it. I know there is a thing that I want to say, but I don't know the words to make somebody else understand it. It can seem such a monumental task to work out how to say it that I don't even know where to start. If it's a precious thing, saying it wrong is worse than not saying it at all. Being misunderstood brings us full circle to the previous post and the importance of truth and accuracy. I find wrongness hard to tolerate, and if it is wrongness in someone's perception of my inner life, it is devastating. Sometimes I can't quite even work out what it is that I want to say or put it into words for myself. I may have to do a whole mind map to figure it out, or write for an hour or two. So it's no wonder really that things don't always pop out in conversation!
Gosh, twelve reasons I haven't told you! No wonder I get told off for not being communicative. And then start telling someone else the Whole Story and get told off for that. So start not telling the story again... And to think that I once questioned whether the whole "social communication" aspect of autism really applied to me!
Do tell me if you can think of any more reasons, or if you have great tips for working around them. Hm, maybe I should do another follow-on about methods I use to try and get past these obstacles...
Having just spoken to Mr Peggy I have realised that this post is a perfect illustration of telling the Whole Story and am laughing a lot that I am doing the very thing I just wrote about. And I realised that I could have answered with much more succinctness (definitely a word) his question about how the truth/everything being known being important interplays with telling nothing at other times: it's binary. Like so much in an autism brain. I'm either telling, or not telling. If I'm telling, you'll have to deal with the Whole Story; if I'm not, you'll just be guessing.
I even worked out the parameters I would ideally work in for what gets told: things that people need to know, things they want to know, and things I want them to know. Trouble is, I still have very few ways of knowing how to allocate Brain Things into those categories! Ideas on a postcard again please!
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