I received a lot of positive feedback on my first blog post – thanks to all those that read it and people that have given me feedback. I hope it continues to be something interesting and informative.
I have a couple of ideas of topics to cover in my next few posts and the order is probably going to be quite arbitrary and more to do with if I feel up to being able to write about a particular subject at a time. But the topic I’m going to be writing about here is one that is almost the polar opposite to the subject of my first post – and that is NOT talking.
People who know me well (or even those that don’t know me well at all) know I’m a bit of a conversationalist. I’m easily bored and not a huge fan of my own time and having stimulating conversations and debates with others is really important to me. It’s also kind of necessary to do a lot of talking in my job – especially the teaching and training parts. But what people don’t always know when they first meet me (or indeed if they met me many years ago) is that at times I am entirely unable to speak. It’s not something that I tend to open first encounters with – my mutism usually catches people off guard the first time they experience it.
This is not that I don’t want to speak, that I’m shy or have not got anything to say (I ALWAYS have something to say) or that I am being rude – it is that I am physically unable to undertake the process of speaking. For me it is a physical sensation – literally as if my tongue has been glued to the roof of my mouth. I can be doing something totally alone and not happening to be speaking to anyone and I will suddenly realise that I no longer have the power of speech. 9 times out of 10 it will have been preceded by some sort of factor that creates a lot of anxiety for me – usually but not exclusively to do with PTSD – but it can also occur when I’m overly anxious or overwhelmed generally. Sometimes I can’t quite pinpoint the reason for it but I do know that the more anxiety-provoking situations I am in in a day the higher the likelihood of me losing my voice for a significant amount of time.
I am not CHOOSING not to speak – it’s really important people know that. It’s that I CAN’T speak. But I would really like to…it makes my life easier!
Looking back I think I’ve actually had some sort of mutism forming for years – but was something that used to only occur during periods of dissociation (which I didn’t realise until a couple of years ago was what I was experiencing (and indeed claimed I didn’t dissociate for quite a number of years but it’s kind of hard to avoid now as it does affect me on a daily basis)) but has grown in the past couple of years to something that can sometimes last up to a couple of days. The more complicated and traumatic situations I find myself in and the less empowered I feel over my life the more the mutism grows. I don’t know much about mutism in adults – it’s not all that common compared to in children but it is often linked to trauma unless there is a root in some sort of Autistic spectrum disorder. I suspect it may stem back to my general need to be in control – but it doesn’t really make sense because being mute really does mean you have a lot less control on the things around you!
When I lose my speech I feel embarrassed. I feel frustrated. I feel like people must be judging me and thinking I’m rude or disinterested. I am trapped usually with a lot of stuff I need to talk about but no way of getting it out. Yes, most of the time (though not always) I can type or write – but conversations this way are difficult and often taken wrongly not to mention how long they take! I put a lot of pressure on myself to “just man up and speak” but this only makes the situation worse. Sometimes I can be very distressed and mute and may be struggling cognitively to even process what is going on around me. Or sometimes I can go about my day perfectly normally but silently – when I’m like this I can hold conversations, I can joke and laugh and do team activities, I can travel about…but all in absolute silence. Friends have observed how bizarre it is when I find something funny and collapse into silent giggles but equally how weird it is to see someone crying hysterically but totally silently. (Though on certain levels of PTSD-trigger occasions I do make a noise but it’s more like a roar than any noise a human would normally make).
Not speaking gets in the way of a hell of a lot of life things. I often can’t call for help when I’m distress. I quite regularly have to cancel meetings etc. because there is no point me going. Yes, I can be on the edge of social situations though it’s difficult to really get involved without speaking – a lot of my good friends are very good with trying to include me or being patient waiting for me to type a note on my phone to be read out to the group. It makes it really complicated to get out of stressful situations without being able to properly explain. I also find that depending on the situation, people can treat me very differently to how they would treat me if they met me speaking. I regularly have people thinking I’m deaf and going to Oscar-winning lengths to perform whatever it is that they’re trying to communicate with me – which has given me an insight into how it must be like for someone who is actually deaf. People often treat me like a child – talking in a very patronising way to me (to be fair I do look about 16 on a good day and if you add crying and optional roller skates into the picture that brings it right down to at least 12!) The best scenario is when someone treats me just the same as they would if I was talking – just with a little more patience and time to accommodate for the conversation.
My speech can sometimes be gone for a couple of minutes or sometimes it can be gone for a couple of days. Or sometimes it struggles to return fully throughout a day. When I do start getting my speech back often my first words are more like indistinct noises and I can struggle to speak clearly for quite a while. Thinking and forming words is a really brain-heavy process and it takes some effort I can assure you! I can also sometimes experience my voice starting to disappear- I will still be able to speak and people who don’t know me well probably wouldn’t notice the slight drop in fluency and eloquence but people who know me well will often pick up that I’m not at full capacity.
So if you come across me and I don’t acknowledge you. Or I don’t seem my usual self and don’t contribute to conversation or cancel a meeting or a talk or something – don’t take it personally, it’s not me being lazy, unreliable or unfriendly – my voice might have just gone walkabouts and I’m working my hardest to get it to come back! Treat me like you normally would and just give a little more time.