Oh wow. Already, this thread has grown into something truly special.
Selective Mutism is a condition I’ve struggled with my entire life. Ive always wanted to express what it’s like to live with this experience and how it affects the true me from being perceived. I hope sharing this will be freeing.
SM is defined by being unable to speak in certain situations. The desire to speak is there. Sometimes the words mentally appear, but will not make the trip to the mouth, and then into the air. They remain suspended internally where they’ll never be heard—but not by choice.
Trying to speak in these circumstances feels like your voice has been nastily snatched away from you. Think, the little mermaid without her voice. So, you might nod, shrug, try to internally will the words to come out but they just cannot be expressed. So with SM, the cope is to just remain silent.
As a child to young adult years, I remained silent in every situation. I could speak, but would not, save for a select few open-minded, non-judgmental individuals.
Ironically, as an adult, I love speaking to a crowd, sharing my feelings or intuition, and coaching. I have no issues with those situations. Sometimes I have a few random blips here and there in certain categories, but I mostly experience SM in casual social settings.
This has lead people to perceive me as quiet, shy, rude, stuck up, strange, out of touch, not having much to say, when I am anything but, and have an entire volcano of words and expressions beneath the surface.
In reality, I am bold and kind, expressive, engaging and interested, with a desire to do improv, sing loudly, and be seen. I desire to be silly in social settings and make jokes. I am an extrovert who loves making new, aligned connections. I would love regular dinner gatherings and make life about having real, enriched social connections.
Blurred by the lens of selective mutism, to the world I am withdrawn, a lone wolf, the friendly neighbor who you won’t know beyond a daily wave and smile, silent, gentle, and therefore sometimes a target.
Sitting with the energy of what’s happening when SM arises leads to a heaviness in the social communication part of the brain. A locked door, or maybe even just a wall. I’ve sat in front of it to see if it changes. Its haughty, and refuses to budge.
It’s troublesome. When carefully learned coping responses do not accurately suit the situations, I am outed. I have learned to force myself out of the quiet and silence—a rare experience with SM. My poor nervous system—and follow a script when I cannot for the life of me, talk. I stay polite to keep the conversation “going” and deflect questions. I am a great asker of questions. But that gets old. It stays formal. And a true, desired connection does not make. I remain unknown.
Sometimes, a person manages to sneak past this impervious wall and somehow receives momentary access to a place secret to others. Cue the, “you have a really silly, funny side to you. You should show more people that.”
As encouraging as those words are, it’s gut wrenching to receive.
For now, remains the desire to socially connect, and also the fear of knowing social connection eventually leads to a loss of words, which leads to losing face in front of people who don’t understand, and won’t know why. Often, this is where projections begin.
Sometimes it feels impossible to approach groups. How does one advocate and speak for an elusive sometimes-there condition that removes the words from which to express?
A life with SM is a lonely existence, one that I no longer accept, and fight to dissolve. But, it’s a difficult battle.
What is something you always wanted to say to someone, but never did? And why didn’t you say it?
