“I’m not too good on the phone.” — Leonard Shelby, Memento
If I were braver and more foolish, I’d post my number here and invite you to dial me.
I can already tell you what’s going to happen. It’s going to voicemail, where you’ll hear my recorded snippet cut to the chase: Text me instead.
Conversations are hard for us autistic folk.
Do I want to hear from people? Sure.
Don’t I want to talk to others for important things? Of course.
Am I just being an unreachable jerk? Hardly.
The less I can predict where a conversation could go, the more anxious I get.
Phone conversations have variables, tonal shifts, no body language, and few clear exit points. That’s just “talking” for neurotypical people.
Not for me.
I need a better idea of what I’m getting into. What the conversation’s going to be about. Time to plan. Time to think. Time to get the words in order. Space to process. Drafts to draft. Ways to frame what I want to say with a minimal risk of what I write being taken out of context.
Social navigation in The Life Autistic takes extra work. We can’t drive through all conversational turf the way you’d speed around somewhere where you’re most familiar.
So call me maybe.
I probably won’t answer.
But I’m here.
Help me draw the map of conversation and text instead.