I’m not a talker, but when I do talk, it’s always conversation about someone’s special interests that are closely connected with my own special interests. If I do talk with others, I’m inquisitive because I’m always wanting to know more about others on a deeper level. When I do talk, I have a lot to say, and when I say what I desire to say, I often feel the need to rattle off everything within me as if I will not have another opportunity to say it.
Of course, talking isn’t without its challenges. I have selective mutism, and depending upon the context of the situation or the people I’m around and my level of comfort with them, I often have a difficult time getting words out. Perhaps, this is the effect of narcissistic abuse – having a voice that has been chained and silenced so much that when there is opportunity to speak, speaking becomes a force.
Nevertheless, I often find that with speaking comes the incredulous stares of others regarding some of the things I may share. It’s not very often that I vocally give anyone a glimpse of my life. From past experiences, I’ve learned the hard way that sharing even the smallest details about myself can often be used against me. Yet, sometimes, I can’t help myself, and many times, I share because I want to help others.
Old habits die hard, if they die at all. When the need for me to share arises, I share, but I often find there are failed completions to my thoughts because some people who hear me react as if they are meeting me for the first time even though I’ve been within their presence for quite some time. Let me explain …
During a conversation among some coworkers, one coworker shared that someone in their family had been diagnosed with selective mutism. My ears, of course, perked up. I am selectively mute, and anything that deals with topics of my interests becomes a focal point for listening. It’s also an opportunity for me to chime into the discussion if I can. Since no one responded to the coworker’s disclosure, the coworker spoke out again and asked if anyone had heard of it [selective mutism]. I shared that I had heard of it, and before I realized it, I rattled off that I am selectively mute.
Before the coworker had time to react, I gave a brief definition of selective mutism as a way to show my knowledge, but I could tell by the look on this coworker’s face that they were incredulous to my claims. In other words, I was not readily believed by this coworker. The coworker was, in fact, astonished and said, “I find that hard to believe! You don’t look like you have selective mutism.”
As soon as this coworker responded in this way, I could feel a slight twinge that I was being gaslighted, but I knew it wasn’t necessarily with the purpose of being mean. In fact, as soon as that feeling of being slighted by gaslighting within me arose, I provided a counter response to this coworker’s disbelief.
“Selective mutism doesn’t have a look, per se. It’s more about a person’s experience with anxiety in social situations. For me, I don’t like being in large groups, and I don’t like feeling the pressure to speak in such settings. When my anxiety levels are high, sometimes I can’t speak. It’s like something within me shuts down. If I feel comfortable with the people I’m around, I will speak, but no one has any idea how much effort it takes me to actually talk to people. It’s like constantly going outside of my comfort zone to talk when talking is seemingly a normal activity for everyone else. If conversation is focused on topics about things I like, then I might chime in, but that depends on how easy it feels for me to do so. To top it off, I’m introverted as well. So, I have the tendency to spend a lot of time alone. One on one conversations are easier for me, but that also depends on the type of person I’m around too.”
As a reaction to my response, all the coworker could do was stare at me and say, “I would have never known this about you. You seem like a very confident person” to which I laughed and replied,
“My confidence has little to do with the anxiety I have about talking in social settings. People just assume a lot about me but have no idea about my experiences. I can tell you all about selective mutism based on my experience. Why don’t you ask your relative what it’s like for them? It’s very possible they experience selective mutism in a similar way. Unless you’re selectively mute, then you don’t know the experience.”
With that, the coworker took a step back and seemed to reflect, but I could still see the look of suspicion and curiosity on their face. Inside of myself, I was a little annoyed even having the need to explain my experience, but at the same time, if a person doesn’t know, they don’t know. This coworker was likely not aware that selective mutism is on a continuum. Anyone with this condition won’t necessarily experience it the same as someone else. In fact, outside of taking anti-anxiety medications for generalized anxiety in the past, I was never prescribed anything for selective mutism. I simply learned to cope and compensate.
“You don’t seem as if your life has any debilitations,” said the coworker. To that, I simply shook my head within myself thinking this coworker couldn’t be serious, but I said out loud, “[it’s] Not what it looks like … if you haven’t lived the experience.” The irony in this is that mainly everyone at work says I hardly ever talk. Go figure.
My Voice Unchained 