As someone who is constantly misunderstood, I have been informally studying misunderstandings my entire life. Given how strange I find Neurotypicals to be, I am fascinated by misunderstandings when I observe them in the wild. It’s only when I’m a participant in them that I find them maddening.
I imagine thought processes as something that happen in the steampunk factories within people’s minds. The information they take in (your question or request) is the materials they need to produce their product (their answer or solution). One of the points where things often jump the tracks is that strange place where the factory tries to start manufacturing the product before it has received all the materials. (Meaning, they think they know what you’re trying to ask or what you’re trying to obtain, but they’ve stopped listening or made incorrect assumptions or have jumped to conclusions). The loading dock therefore stops unloading materials because they figure they have everything they need. It’s like these doors slam shut in their ears, and they formulate a widget that doesn’t even come out looking anything like a solution.
For example, there are the thousands of times I suggest ways that software could be improved, and I get a response along the lines of, “Why on earth would we do that? No one needs to do xyz.” I want to pull my hair out at that point, because I’ve never even come close to saying that I want to do xyz with their software. In fact, I’ve stated quite clearly that I’m hoping to do abc, and I know a lot of their users would like to be able to do abc since I hear a lot of complaints about it in internet forums. Providing this option would in fact benefit their company and increase user satisfaction. Quite often the change is a simple one, too. But in one ear, out the other.
The listener can’t seem to get past the false assumption that I’m asking to do xyz, and that would be a weird thing to do, and therefore I’m making a weird request. And in truth, I agree. It would be. At that point, they’ve dismissed me. (Shown me the factory door.) But I don’t want to do xyz. They have just settled into their outlandish assumption about my motivation and they aren’t willing to hear anything else.
Other times I see someone getting really agitated, and rather than the other person saying, whoa, let’s take a breath, step back, and find out what this is really about (in other words, de-escalate), instead they ramp things up until it gets to the point where things get so bad that there’s no turning back. Things are said that can never be unsaid, or, worse yet, it gets violent. And nine times out of ten it started with the first person just desperately wanting to be heard, because they were hurt, afraid, triggered, or needing comfort or support, and it didn’t have to end that way.
In cases like those, the listener assumes the agitated person’s motivation is to be aggressive and hostile and violent, and they need to be crushed underfoot and stopped at all costs, when in fact they are crying for help and to be heard, and de-escalation is called for. Sometimes, in the brain factory, if a catastrophic breakdown looks imminent, the instinct is to simply demolish that whole section of the factory. It would be better to just calm down and see what can be done to make repairs.
And I wish writers for TV and Movies could come up with something different than what they constantly force feed us in terms of communication, because 999 times out of a thousand, the big conflict could easily be avoided if someone just spoke up about something. Plain and simple. Say it. Provide the right materials so you get the right end product. I’d like there to be a little more creative conflict in screenplays. This tension-via-not-speaking-up trope is getting tedious. I spend a lot of time shouting at my television. “Just tell her you love her!” “Tell him you lost the lottery ticket!” “Tell her you are lost and too embarrassed to ask for directions!”
In this case, writers seem to think that humans have one motivation: to eff up their lives entirely by not communicating at all, ever, under any circumstances. If we all did this, the world would grind to a halt. Yes, it makes for some easy dramatic tension, but it’s getting boring.
If a factory owner sees that a minor problem is causing employees to work harder, but things are still moving along, they may just opt for status quo. But people might be getting burned out and resentful with having to deal with this lazy approach. How about showing them some respect by trying something different?
And the silent treatment thing? It loses its power if it doesn’t go both ways. This is a game that has been played in my family for generations. In fact, my sister hasn’t spoken to me for years. So I made it perfectly clear that I was more than willing to speak to her any time. We can provide materials and produce goods any time she wants to do business. Yes, seeing her factory doors shuttered feels like a red-hot poker to my gut, but I can’t control what she chooses to do or not do. I fully expect she’ll never speak to me again.
Every day I wake up and my heart breaks a little more, because I’m receiving the silent message that I’m so contemptable that I’m not even worth being spoken to. But this wasn’t my choice. I’ve left my door open. I can’t drag her through it. I hope it’s not as lonely on her side of the door as I think it is. That’s sad to think about, especially if her husband passes away before she does. At this point, all I can do is occasionally check from a distance to make sure the factory hasn’t caved in, and wonder what goes on in there.
The motivation of the silent treatment is to force the other person to respond in kind, thus giving you the opportunity to justify your crappy behavior by pointing at theirs. A cease-fire, without communication, without any effort toward a détente, produces nothing of value. Don’t play that game. But you can’t control other people’s factories. You can only control your own.
Then there’s the cognitive dissonance thing. That’s becoming increasingly prevalent in society these days. While I can spot it, I’m just as incapable of figuring out a way around it as you are, Dear Reader. I just think that some people are so desperate to believe certain things that they are willing to ignore logic if it doesn’t comply with what they feel the need to believe, and there’s nothing that is going to change that.
Recently I saw a video of someone interviewing a MAGA woman, and he told her there was a recording of Joe Biden bragging that he had walked into the dressing rooms of naked young women. What should be done to him? She of course said that was despicable! Horrible! He should be thrown in jail immediately. Then the guy goes, “Well, actually, I lied. It was Trump who said that.” Then he plays her the tape, and asks her if she thinks he should be thrown in jail, and she says, well, no, boys will be boys, and it really wasn’t all that bad, and blah, blah, blah… That, right there, means she’s in a cult.
In that instance, the cognitively dissonant woman at first thought the interviewer’s motivation was to provide her with more fuel to support her dissonance. She was all for that. Sure, I’ll take your shipment of fuel! Unload it right here! But when it turned out that he was instead providing her with facts that challenged her desperately held beliefs, she had to backpedal for all she was worth. “Red alert! Hazardous Materials! Never mind the fact that we’re desperate for fuel! Get it off our loading dock NOW!” It was really sad to witness.
Don’t buy what this factory is selling. It’s toxic. And it won’t stand the test of time.
Go on over to a blog post I wrote years ago entitled, A Scary Story for Halloween, or Charleston’s Dark History. Look at the comment someone left for me there the other day. Apparently, they took exception to the fact that I mentioned Charleston’s extremely common historical practice of renting out slaves to people who otherwise couldn’t afford them. They didn’t like the fact that I portrayed Charleston in a bad light, despite a mountain of evidence.
The way they tried to improve that admittedly beautiful city’s reputation was by saying, “There are many stories of slaves using the money they earned from being “rented out”, as you say, to purchase their freedom.” As if it was common practice for their owners to let slaves keep all the proceeds, and then, after all was said and done, their owners were willing to give up such lucrative income sources (I considered using the term “cash cows” but that was a bridge too far, even for me), out of the goodness of their hearts, after having exploited them in this fashion for so long. And without citing these “many stories” this person seemed to think that this supposed ability to purchase one’s freedom from slavery somehow made the system less horrific and more justifiable.
Some factories produce unicorns that fart rainbows. But let’s move on, because we don’t want rainbow stains all over us. That wouldn’t do.
It’s been my experience that when misunderstandings occur between neurodivergent people and neurotypical people it has to do with subtext. The world would be a much better place, in my opinion, if subtext did not exist, and it would certainly be a lot less confusing if neurotypical people understood that many neurodivergent people mean what they say and say what they mean—they’re not being subtle. They’re not asking you to infer anything, or read between the lines. And when you respond, they’re not going to pick up on your subtlety. Neurodivergent people also might give you what you think is more detail than you may require, but if you’d just listen until the end, you’d save yourself a lot of time. Here’s an example.
Me: I need your advice in handling this situation. I understand how to handle it under normal circumstances, but this case is atypical because xyz.
My Neurotypical Supervisor (who apparently lost interest in listening to me after my first sentence): Here’s where to find that information.
Me: I know where to find the information in a typical situation, but this is not a normal situation because xyz. (And if I wanted to be snarky, I could also add that I know where to find the information because I am the one who keeps the information updated, as he knows quite well, because he can’t be bothered to do so, even though it’s his job. But I keep that to myself.)
Supervisor: So what does that information say?
Me (Sighing inwardly): It says abc, but in this case it won’t work because xyz, so I need to know how to handle it.
Him: So, what’s the question?
Me: So, I’m guessing we need to either do def, ghi, or jkl, because xyz makes this unique. What do you want us to do?
Him: Do what you always do.
Me: We can’t do what we always do, because xyz. So are you saying to do def, ghi, or jkl?
Him: do ghi.
Me: Thank you.
FOR GOD’S SAKE!!!! I made it clear I know how to do it under normal circumstances, and he seemed to get stuck on normal circumstances. I made it clear this was not a normal circumstance and I was coming to him to find out what to do in this abnormal circumstance. Why could he not just answer the question?
I have long since decided that he thinks my motivation is to be a thorn in his side. He thinks I’m annoying. He often cuts me off, doesn’t respond to my emails, or if he does, gives me an answer like the above, that only produces more questions. I would not be asking a question if I didn’t need an answer, and I’m not an idiot. I know where to find typical answers. And he knows that. But since he thinks I’m just here to make his life difficult, he anticipates difficulty from me, and therefore he finds it wherever he can. It makes things 1000 times harder than they have to be.
If a factory is biased against your materials, and therefore rejects half of them before they even get in the factory door, they’re never going to produce the product you need, no matter how hard you try. If it adjusts the speed of its conveyor belts based on which product brand it sees coming, it will produce inconsistent products, and you won’t be able to trust their reliability. And it also show’s a lack of care.
Another day, another person. I’m at the pharmacy. It’s June 29th. I go to pick up a prescription. It’s not there. The clerk has no record of it. I show her the text message I got from them telling me that it was ready for pick up. Granted, I got the text on June 19th, but due to a variety of situations, I couldn’t come before the 29th. It shouldn’t have disappeared off her system entirely.
Clerk: Ma’am, If you don’t pick it up within 10 days, we pull it off the shelf.
Me: That’s understandable, and I apologize, but I still need the medication, so can you please fill it again?
Clerk: If you’re going to be that late, you need to call us…
Me: Thank you. I know. That’s beside the point at the moment. Can you fill it again, please?
Clerk: I can fill it for one month.
Me: But the text says I was going to pick up my full 90-day prescription.
Clerk: But we don’t have it on record.
Me: But you sent me this text. And if you don’t have it on record at all, how can you even give me one month’s worth?
Clerk: Well, we have the prescription on record, we just don’t have that you get 90 day’s worth on record.
Me: I’ve always gotten 90 day’s worth. You have record of me picking up 90 day’s worth for years. It’s the only way my insurance company will pay for it. And see? Your text says it was 90 day’s worth.
Clerk: Well, we can only give you 30 day’s worth.
Me: So you’re telling me, if I had shown up one day ago, I would have been able to pick up this order mentioned in the text, which was 90 day’s worth, but since I showed up today, I can only get one month’s supply, and my insurance will refuse to pay for it?
Clerk: Yes.
Me: Why?
Clerk: Because the request was placed way back in June.
Me: But it’s still June.
Clerk: But it was placed way back in June.
Me: But it’s still June. See? (Showing her the calendar, and starting to feel like I’m losing my mind.)
Clerk: But that was way back in June.
Me: So what’s today’s date?
Clerk: June 29th.
Me: So then, why can’t I pick up my 90 day supply?
Clerk: Because it was placed way back in June.
Finally I give up and walk out.
In this case, my motivation was to pick up my prescription and have it paid for by my insurance. For some reason, she wasn’t going to let that happen, and she apparently knew I wouldn’t like the reason why, so she hit upon the “way back in June” reason, and got stuck on it, like a broken record, despite the fact that it defied logic. I could see at that point that her steampunk brain had completely shut down and nothing I did or said would get it to start working again, so it was time to walk away.
Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t make someone understand. Sometimes, their brain factory simply will not produce a functional product, even if you provide it with the proper materials. It’s rather scary. Sometimes you need to enter the factory from another door, or go to another factory entirely, or have someone else approach the factory for you. One thing that’s certain is that trying to reason with a machine that keeps crashing into a wall, then backing up and crashing into the same wall over and over again is a colossal waste of time.
Maybe next time I’ll bring a can of WD-40.
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