≡ Menu



style="display:inline-block;width:728px;height:90px"
data-ad-client="ca-pub-5513538043308987"
data-ad-slot="6518239857">

Asperger’s and the Silent Treatment, aka Trapped in Your Own Head

When I get really upset, I can’t speak. Literally, I can’t speak. I am sure this is immensely frustrating for my husband – God bless him – but I don’t know if I can ever explain just how horrible it is for me, too.

It can start with a stupid argument or minor annoyance that just builds and builds inside me until I’m really upset – it can be either the mad or sad variety of upset. It can start out so logically, where there’s an identifiable trigger. But like an explosive meltdown – which may or may not have an irrational (or even discernible) cause – I can get completely trapped in my own head and unable to speak.

It’s not that I don’t want to say anything. I just can’t. I will have dozens of thoughts running through my head, things I want to say, words that want to pour out of me, but I physically can’t open my mouth. Or if I do manage to get my mouth open, I can’t make my voice work. No sound comes out. It’s sort of terrifying, and so it upsets me further, and so it gets harder and harder to just say something. The tears are often pouring out of me as this is happening. Sometimes I wonder if this is what it’s like to have the nonverbal variety of autism. Do nonverbal people have this burning need to talk, to tell someone what is going on inside their heads, but they are just unable to do so? How incredibly maddening. I can’t bear it when it rears its head for 10 minutes.

Upset But No Words

Perhaps the strangest thing is what breaks me out of it: permission.

The permission isn’t literal. But when I’m stuck in a silence loop, I need Tom to ask me a question that I can answer. It can’t be complex, like, “What’s going on?” or “How are you feeling?” The words won’t come out. I’ve tried. I’ve hurt my throat trying to talk before my brain said, “Go.” But if he can ask me a simple yes or no question, like, “Are you ready to talk?” That’s what I need.

Of course, it doesn’t always work. I can’t be stuck too deep in the loop. If he tries to draw me out before I’m ready, it doesn’t happen. Sometimes, he tries to talk to me, realizes it isn’t going to happen…and then just lies there next to me as I’m curled up in the fetal position in bed for the next 20 or 30 minutes before he tries again. Sometimes, this is exactly what I need. Sometimes, I’m desperate after five minutes for him to say something again, and completely unable to do anything about it.

I’m sure this sounds ridiculous to many people. I mean, how hard can it be to say a few words to your husband, the man you love more than anyone else in the world?

It can be infinitely hard.

Sometimes, as I’m ruminating about whatever set me off in the first place, I have all of those thoughts in my head alongside something like this:

“I just have to get it out, get it out. Say something. Say something, dammit. Oh God. Talk to me, please talk to me. If you talk to me, I can tell you, tell you what’s in my head. I can’t talk, I can’t say anything, please say something to me. I’m going crazy, this is crazy, Oh my God. Oh God. Gotta say something. Gotta talk. Want to scream. I could scream forever, but I can’t even open my mouth. Oh please, say something, let me talk. Talk to me, why won’t you talk to me? Please, just ask me a question. Help me. Please help me…”

I find myself blaming him for not giving me an opening to talk again, but it’s not his fault. When he does try, he’s sometimes “rewarded” with me burying my face in the pillow, covering my head with the blanket, or renewed sobs when I’d started to settle down. How is he to know? It’s not his fault.

How can I be physically unable to do something one moment, but able to do so the next, if and only if my husband talks to me first? I don’t know. I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense. And I hate it.

This is one of the reasons I write so much. Speaking…it doesn’t come easily to me. When I have something I need to talk to Tom about, it’s infinitely easier for me to write it down, although I hope that’s not too impersonal for him…

I don’t know if this is a common Asperger’s trait or if it’s unique to me. I’d love to hear from other Aspies to see if they end up giving people the silent treatment without actually wanting to.

Christina Gleason (864 Posts)

That’s me: Christina Gleason. I’m a professional copywriter, editor, and blogger. My company is called Phenomenal Content. (Hire me!) I’m a relatively high-functioning Aspie who also lives with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS), depression, anxiety, and chronic pain. I am not ashamed to admit that I am in the care of a psychiatrist, who assures me that people in therapy are often better adjusted than “normal” people who are not, because at least we know what our issues are and are working on them. I’m a geek for grammar, fantasy, and select types of gaming, including World of Warcraft and Plants vs Zombies 2. I hate vegetables. I have an intense phone phobia, so I’ll happily conduct business over email or IM instead. I have started writing no fewer than five novels, and I hope to finish one of them...eventually.


Tags:

{ 6 comments… add one }

  • TechyDad February 11, 2013, 10:14 am

    When I get upset, I get quiet too. It’s not so much a “can’t talk” with me as it is a “don’t want to talk.” I too feel a ton of thoughts rushing through my head, but I feel like I can’t assemble them into a coherent argument while I’m so upset.

    When I’m upset it’s like my brain won’t stay on task to make sense of the feeling. I’ll be upset about X and my brain will bring up Y, Z, and a few more items that I was upset about years ago but that I thought were resolved. Except now it will all seem like a string of malice aimed at me. I know this isn’t the case, but it’s like there’s two voices inside me. One telling me that everyone is against me and/or that I’m not good enough for anyone, the other telling me not to listen to the first. My brain jumps from topic to topic keeping me from organizing my thoughts in any manner.

    To prevent my simple “why can’t you do X?” from turning into a rambling, accusatory rant about Y, Z, A, B, and C, I’ll just keep quiet. I know it doesn’t resolve anything, but it seems like the better course of action over either making no sense or (even worse) saying something that I don’t really mean because my brain’s filters are disorganized at the moment.

  • Nancy Bobbert February 11, 2013, 3:36 pm

    You have no idea how helpful this post really is. Thank you so much for writing about this. I deal with 2 Aspie family members who without a doubt suffer from something similar. In the heat of the moment, it can be hard for the non-aspie to understand why they won’t respond. Hopefully this post will help others to be a little more understanding.

    • Christina February 11, 2013, 4:38 pm

      I’m glad this is helpful to you, Nancy. I wrote this not only for myself, but for my husband to hopefully better explain what’s going on in my head when this happens, and for anyone else who deals with it first- or secondhand. My husband is the non-Aspie in our family, like you…outnumbered!

  • Billy February 11, 2013, 11:39 pm

    Explained very well I think. How my life partner tolerated this so long must be based in him having the patience (and love) of Job. What I came to learn though, is that “silent loop” (great term to a programmer!) stems from the innate (illogical) self-loathing we have. Explaining this in a time of lesser anxiety to your “better half” helps in his/her being more prepared for it. Now forgive me getting geeky, but its like you can create a sub-routine in your grey-matter machine. Cognitively store the fact that you are really upset with yourself at what we cannot at times help. Your mate knows this. That in itself can relax those the misfire(s) “upstairs”. A keyword that you and s/he both know can trigger that implanted process: “I am mad at myself for having a bit of a melty time and I now forgive myself for it.” Sort of an IF {silent loop mode} THEN {go to subroutine: “self-forgive”=”relieve anxiety”} CANCEL {silent-loop}

    Our companions know how our brains work (and love us anyway!) Instead of curled up in the fetal position, lay back, breathe in through nose and out through mouth with eyes closed, arms at side and the damned tight shoes off ;-) We all CAN rule our brains, when they start to take over. Peace Love Understanding Respect

    • TechyDad February 12, 2013, 10:13 am

      It’s very interesting that you put it like that. One book I read stated that people with Asperger’s typically think in If-Then format. I recognized this in myself and furthermore realized why I do so well in computer programming: All computer programming is, when you boil it down, is a series of If-Then statements. I think like a computer!

      My brain and the computer are perfectly compatible so it is easy for me to envision just what needs to be done for the computer to give me the result I want. Many neurotypicals seem to get highly confused by how I can juggle all these “If-Thens” in my head to come to the correct conclusion, but it’s easy for me.

      It’s also interesting that you mentioned ruling our brains. Back when I was in high school, I felt like my brain was its own entity that did what it wanted to do, whether I wanted it to or not. Through college, I worked very hard to get my brain under my control. It was hard, and I still have moments when my brain slips out of control, but I was very successful. Now, I need to figure out how to teach my son the same thing: How to control his brain and channel its energies into something useful instead of behaviors that wind up hurting him socially and emotionally.

  • Jill September 6, 2013, 9:49 pm

    This happens to me quite alot. I open my mouth and nothing comes out because I’m too sad and would cry or what I would say would sound silly. Generally I’m hurt and embarrassed for the melt down. But I grab my cell phone and can text to his cell phone everything I want to say :)

Leave a Comment

CommentLuv badge