Understanding Autism: Why Clear Communication is Key

Though I have no memory of my birth, I am reminded of how difficult it was every day. It was the late 1960s, and medical science was behind what is normal today. I was my mother’s first child, and, as I understand is common with first babies, I was proving difficult to extract from the safe, comfy space I was in. This was a pattern I would follow for the rest of my life, but that’s another story!

The answer to my tardiness was the use of forceps. Unfortunately, it seems that whoever was wielding this somewhat blunt instrument did not know their own strength and, in encouraging my exit from the womb, squeezed my head a little too hard. My brain was deprived of oxygen for a short period, leaving me with issues down the whole of the right side of my body.

I have had trouble with my right eye, my right ear, and my right hand. My inability to write neatly was a significant issue at school. My right eye has always been considerably weaker than my left, and I am “lazy”—the muscles that move my eyeball are underdeveloped, and I often cannot be bothered to line my right eye up with my left. These issues impact me every day, albeit usually in very small ways. I know how much luckier I am than many, and I do not in any way share this in search of pity or sympathy.

However, one instance where there was a pronounced impact was when I was required to take a sight test soon after starting full-time work. Computers on every desk were a new innovation, and so all staff had their vision tested to see if they should be provided with glasses for working at a screen all day.

I sat peering into a machine and was asked to read out all the words I could see, which I did. My suspicions started when I was asked if I was sure that I had read all that I could see several times. Eventually, I twigged and consciously engaged my right eye, as well as my left, to immediately see many other words. The machine showed separate images to each eye, which most people would combine into a single list without realising. I had missed half of the information.

I share this rather lengthy story as it is the perfect illustration of how I usually feel when communicating verbally as an autistic person. I am hearing the words, but I know that I am missing at least half of what is being communicated, and often more. This is very common in autistic people. Many of us struggle hugely with nonverbal communication, like tone of voice and body language. It is this that is at the heart of the oversimplification that autistic people take everything literally.

But think of it this way. If all you have to go on is the words, how else would you interpret them? I suspect that most neurotypical people have just naturally interpreted body language and tone all of their lives so that they do not even realise that they are doing it. But for me, hearing somebody say something usually gives me no more information than reading the words. In fact, it gives me less, and I struggle to process auditory inputs as well.

I spend much of my life just as I was in that eye test, missing half the information. Knowing that this is the case is of little help. People tend to communicate non-verbally because, for whatever reason, they do not want to say what they really mean in words. There is apparently less shame or embarrassment is saying that everything is fine while showing with your body language and tone of voice that this is absolutely not the case than in just saying so. This is a big problem for me.

I have a dilemma when I suspect that someone is saying one thing while meaning another. My understanding of nonverbal communication is at about the same level as my understanding of Chinese—I often know that communication in another language is happening, but I have absolutely no idea what is being said.

If I ask someone what they are really saying, there are three possible outcomes. Two are very bad, and the other is not brilliant either. The first possibility is that they understand my difficulty and explain what they really mean. This helps me greatly, but it may well cause embarrassment in the other person and cause them to think that I am stupid. But that is the best outcome! The alternatives are that they deny that they mean anything different to the words they are saying when this is clearly not the case, or even say something like, “If you don’t know, I am not going to tell you”, leaving me worried and bewildered. Or they might not be non-verbally communicating anything different at all, leaving us both embarrassed.

This means that I very seldom ask for further explanation unless I view the situation as absolutely critical or the other person knows me well enough to understand why I need clarification. But a lot of the time, I am back to that eye test, completely missing the fact that there is other communication going on at all.

The solution is that we are all much clearer in what we say and communicate and recognise that we all receive information differently. When someone is learning our language, we do not think less of them when they ask for clarification about an unfamiliar word. However, struggling with non-verbal communication is generally seen as just a sign of low intelligence. This is wrong and just needs to stop.

Finally, what I would love others to understand better is that my lack of understanding of non-verbal communication also extends to my own. I am frequently admonished for my body language or tone of voice when I have no idea about what it is that I am apparently conveying, and it is certainly not deliberate or a reflection of my real thoughts. It is like being in an unfamiliar culture and wary of eating with the wrong hand or offending someone by pointing. How can you follow the rules if you do not understand them?

I know that I often come across as blunt. But my words are my only conscious and controllable method of communication. I cannot leave important information to channels that I do not understand and are therefore liable to massive misinterpretation. I ask for clear communication simply because it is the only one I can understand.

Non-verbal communication has reached such an extreme level in our society that some estimates are that it makes up well over half of what people express. I am missing all of that, and I am not the only one. If you want to be clear about something, especially to an autistic person, please just say it!