Hey there, lovely gentle readers! Stephenie here—your friendly neurodivergent advocate—ready to dive into a topic that hit me during one of my classic "dryer thoughts" at work. You know, those deep revelations that come to you while you're drying a particularly fluffy poodle mix? Yeah, those.
Today, let’s talk about something that many neurodivergent folks experience: selective mutism. You know those moments when, out of nowhere, words just… disappear? When you want to speak but physically can’t?
For the longest time, I didn’t understand what was happening when this happened to me. I just felt weird—maybe rude, shy, or like my brain had short-circuited. Sometimes, I even wondered if aliens had hijacked my vocal cords. Can you relate?
Selective Mutism and the Fight-or-Flight Response
After a lot of reflection and research, I’ve come to realize that my selective mutism is actually a fight-or-flight response. My brain perceives certain situations—whether from sensory overload, emotional overwhelm, or past trauma triggers—as a threat. Instead of gearing up to fight or run, my response is to freeze and lose my ability to speak.
The tricky part? I don’t always recognize it in the moment. Sometimes, it happens so fast that I don’t have time to process what’s going on until much later. Other times, I know I’m struggling but can’t seem to pull myself out of it.
Learning to Recognize the Signs
A big part of managing this has been learning to identify my triggers. Crowded, overstimulating environments (like restaurants or trade shows) are big ones for me. So is meeting people I admire or interacting with people who remind me of difficult relationships from my past.
Since I can’t always predict when I’ll hit that freeze response, I’ve had to shift my focus to recognizing when I’m in it and working on self-regulation techniques.
One tool that’s helped me is the Visible app. Since I also deal with chronic illness, the app tracks my heart rate and other autonomic responses. It gives me a visual representation of what’s happening in my body. If my heart rate suddenly spikes, I know I’m in a fight-or-flight state and need to step back, breathe, and regulate myself. Other times, my body reacts differently—I dissociate, and my heart rate stays steady, making it look like nothing is wrong when, in reality, I’m completely checked out. Having that external data helps me validate what I’m feeling and decide on the best way to manage it.
Coping Strategies for Selective Mutism
While I can’t prevent these moments entirely, I can find ways to navigate them more smoothly. Some things that help include:
Alternative Communication Tools: Having a backup method to express myself—like a phone, tablet, notebook, or pre-made cards—makes a big difference. (Honestly, I’m tempted to try a puppet at this point!)
Recognizing the Shift: If I feel my heart rate climbing or notice I’m detaching, I know I need to pause, breathe, and self-regulate before I shut down completely.
Support Systems: Having someone who understands and can step in when words fail—whether it’s my husband, a friend, or a trusted colleague—helps so much.
Self-Kindness: Instead of beating myself up for struggling, I remind myself that this is just how my nervous system responds. And let’s be real—sometimes, a little chocolate helps too.
Embracing Neurodivergence
I’m still figuring out the best system for me, but just having a name for what I experience has been a huge relief. Selective mutism doesn’t define me—it’s just one part of my neurodivergent experience, and I embrace it wholeheartedly. (Plus, let’s be honest—it does lead to some hilarious moments now and then.)
So, whether you’ve had similar experiences or just want to understand your neurodivergent friends a little better, I hope this gives you some insight into what it’s like when words escape us. And hey, maybe one day we’ll all master a whole new way to communicate without words. Until then, be kind to yourself, embrace what makes you unique, and keep finding humor where you can.
Sending you all the love and support, Stephenie
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