Do you remember those hearing tests in elementary school? 

A test administrator would plunk bulky headphones over your ears and ask you to raise your hand every time you heard a sound. I always expected to fail those things but never did. 

Once my mother asked my doctor to do the test. She was certain I had hearing problems because I was always asking people to repeat what they said. My teacher had also complained about the number of times she had to say my name before I’d respond. 

But, alas, I passed the hearing test…again. 

My doctor gave my mother some excuse about not paying attention and needing to focus more, blah, blah, blah. 

What no one realized and, as a child I was unable to articulate it, I could hear just fine. The issue had nothing to do with a refusal to pay attention in class nor with my hearing, it had everything to do with the way I process sound.

Even in adulthood, I struggle to process what others are saying, have extreme sensitivity to sounds, and can’t filter out background noises. I’ve found ways to excuse these issues like, in groups, mirroring everyone else’s responses. If they nod their heads, I nod my head. In one-on-one situations, I’ll say I have poor hearing even though it’s a lie to explain why I’ve asked them to repeat themselves a few times. 

It wasn’t until I was diagnosed with Autism at the age of 39 that I figured out why this was happening. Following my diagnosis, I put in a lot of time researching autism. So many ‘wrong’ things about me were finally explained. 

Now I understand that, like many autistics, I have auditory processing disorder.

What is auditory processing disorder?

Auditory processing disorder is a condition where you can hear sounds normally, but your brain has trouble understanding and making sense of those sounds. It can make it difficult to understand speech, follow directions, or distinguish between similar sounds.

Although anyone can have auditory processing disorder, approximately 5% of children have it, experts have estimated that up to 80% of autistic people have some level of auditory processing issues.

While researchers and doctors don’t know the exact cause for auditory processing disorder in autistics but some research suggests it’s an issue with autistic brains’ limited ability to store information into long-term memory. 

What we do know is anxiety, stress, and fatigue can exacerbate it.

Like all autistic traits, auditory processing issues can present differently from individual to individual. 

Hypersensitivity: 

Some sounds can be overwhelming or too loud. This one is more noticeable in individuals because a common response is to cover our ears. 

I covered my ears often in childhood but, unfortunately, was ridiculed by those around me about it. “It wasn’t THAT loud,” they’d say. 

For a long time, I purposely avoided covering my ears to avoid being picked on. It was painful to hear the sound. But now that I know why I’m sensitive to sounds, I now allow myself to cover my ears. I’ve also purchased Loops ear plugs which I carry in my purse.

Our hypersensitivity can also cause of to have a physical reaction to common sounds that may not bother most people. 

For me, hearing people smack, even small smacking sounds, sends my anxiety level through the roof. There are specific words that make me cringe when I hear them. I’m not sure why but it sounds like nails scratching a chalkboard. That’s the reaction I have. 

Filtering sounds: 

For those of us that experience this one, it can be difficult — often impossible — to filter out background noises and focus on one sound. 

Having a conversation in a restaurant is an exhausting experience for me — I can’t filter out other conversations, the clanging of utensils, and doors opening and closing. 

This can also contribute to most autistics’ need for quiet areas to work instead of open-concept office spaces. To listen to conversations with coworkers or on the phone, we have to fight against other sounds like fingers typing keyboards, mouse clicks, elevators moving, heavy footsteps down the walk ways, the air conditioner running, and coffee pots brewing. 

Mental Processing Speed: 

This one is a rough one to live with, at least, from my personal experience. My brain processes information at a slower pace than neurotypicals. I can hear what someone is saying — I hear the words — but understanding their meaning takes some time. I’ll understand a joke a minute or two after everyone else laughs. 

Those of us that experience this often miss steps in verbally delivered instructions and ask people to repeat what they’ve said. 

Prosody: 

Prosody is the rhythm, intonation, and emotional tone in speech. Some autistic people can have difficulty interpreting these cues, which interferes with our ability to understand the emotional context of conversations. 

My daughter, who is eight, loves to joke about how much I ruin sarcasm. She will say, “I hated my dinner. I can’t believe you fed that to me.” I can never tell if she is being sarcastic or really hated her dinner. I’ve since learned to look at her plate before I respond. If she ate everything, then she’s being sarcastic. If she’s hardly touched it, then she probably didn’t like it. 

For people I know well, I try to decide if what they said is something they’d normally say — does it fit a pattern of previous behavior, beliefs, or conversations, —  or look for eye rolls and other dramatic facial moments that might indicate if it’s sarcasm. 

And this goes for other emotions as well. I can’t tell if something is bothering someone by what they say unless it’s really dramatic. Instead, I focus on changes in their behavior or facial expressions, etc. Are they crying (or not smiling)? Are their eyes red? Are they fidgeting with something? 

Be patient and deliver information in multiple ways

I was a teacher in a past life. One of the things we were taught was to ensure our lessons covered all the learning styles. Offer notes, give verbal instructions, provide visuals, and get hands-on if possible. Don’t just read Shakespeare, give the kids pool noodles and have them act out fight scenes! The more senses that are involved, the more people will remember the information. 

Whether you are in the office or in a classroom, there is no reason you can’t provide information in multiple forms. Relying on verbally delivered information is risky even for neurotypicals. (Ever heard of the telephone game?) Providing information and instructions in written form and with visuals ensures everyone understands the concept or problem being discussed. 

Most importantly, be patient. It doesn’t matter if the person you are interacting with is autistic, ADHD, or neurotypical. Auditory processing issues can affect anyone. Give people a moment to process new information and go a step further by giving them license to take as much time as they need.

A simple, “You don’t have to answer that (provide feedback, etc.) right now. You can take some time to think about it and get back to me,” can be a relief to someone dealing with auditory issues. 

I always seem to miss the obvious.

I miss a vital piece of non-verbal communication needed to lead me to an obvious conclusion. Or miss making a connection between two concepts at work, and someone must explain it to me. Or I don’t take an action I “should have known to take because it was obvious.” (Yep, I’ve heard this one before – from my boss!)

I heard some variation of, “but it was obvious” so much growing up (and as an adult) that I started to believe something was wrong with my brain. I’m missing some little electrical pathways in my head or something.

My grades in school were always excellent and coming up with out-of-the-box solutions isn’t unusual for me either. But catching what neurotypicals consider obvious? Not so much.

It wasn’t until my diagnosis that I started to pay a little more attention to this and there’s a little less deficiency and more a difference. Let’s look at what I mean.

But first, let’s address this question:  why do autistics miss the obvious?

Swimming in the Details

Autistics process information from the details up to the bigger picture. Sometimes we are so caught up in processing the details that we take longer to think our way through to the bigger concept.

When neurotypicals can process the bigger concept quicker, they can recognize more ‘obvious’ connections before us. It doesn’t mean we always miss the obvious connections or concepts, but the delay in our thought processing – because of our cognitive need to connect all the details – can make it appear that we don’t see it.

Often, a light bulb will go off after a conversation has ended. It takes that long to process all the details and come to the same conclusion that neurotypicals may think through quicker. It’s like that saying, “Unable to see the forest for the trees.”

A neurotypical can see a few of the trees and jump to the forest. Autistics need to see each tree individually before we can build out the forest in our thinking processes.

A Little Too Subtle for Me

And then there are all the subtleties of communication. Neurotypicals can instinctively pick up on subtle non-verbal cues like facial expressions, body language, and vocal tone. But my autistic brain doesn’t operate this way because we tend to take things literally.

If you say, “I’m fine,” I believe what you say. Reading your tone isn’t instinctual, especially if it isn’t an over-the-top shift. So, it isn’t a reach that we may miss that you aren’t actually “fine.”

What neurotypicals may view as obvious based on non-verbal communication and social cues isn’t always so apparent for autistic people.

It explains all the interactions I’ve had like this: 

Friend: “Well, obviously, she’s upset.”

Me: “She is?”

Non-verbal communication and social cues can be too subtle for me to pick up on which leads me to miss the obvious.

Can I have a minute to think, please?

Auditory processing is how the brain perceives and interprets sounds. Not all autistic individuals experience auditory processing challenges, but many do, including me!

How we process sound can delay or prevent us from catching cues or key information needed to make obvious connections. For example, I can’t filter out background noise and other conversations. If two conversations are going on at the dinner table, I can’t distinguish between the conversation I’m involved in and the other one. After a while, I go silent and just sit and pretend to listen. People get tired of me asked for them to repeat themselves.

Background noises don’t float into white noise for me. If the air conditioner is pumping in the background, I hear it. The elevator climbing up the shaft? Yep, I hear that too. It can overwhelm my ability to process verbal information.

Even in a perfect environment – no background noise, no other conversations – processing auditory information can be delayed. It takes me longer to understand what others are saying. I hear the words but don’t grasp what is said and takes me a while to think through it. This can explain why I can make obvious connections as I’m walking away from a conversation. My brain finally finishes processing what was said!

Flipping the Script

I may be oblivious to the things neurotypicals may perceive as obvious; but I’ve often found myself standing on the other side. There are times I’ve made a connection or acted based on what I perceived to be obvious but the neurotypicals around me didn’t see or catch.

It’s a weird feeling really when it happens at work. My coworkers start praising me for figuring out something because it was an out-there concept and everyone else missed it.  

But to me, it was easy. It was obvious.

These experiences prove autistics aren’t deficient; we’re just different.

Although my tendency for detail-oriented thinking and the need to find patterns can make it difficult to catch things neurotypicals view as obvious, it does help me make connections where others don’t normally look for them. This may contribute to neurotypicals’ perception that we can pick up on complex skills and concepts but struggle with the most simplistic things. Because we think differently, we make different observations. Our ability to think through the details can help us point out gaps and missing pieces of information others miss.

This ability is a strength.

The world can benefit from us. We bring valuable strengths such as attention to detail, pattern recognition, and unique perspectives. These strengths may be barriers in some areas but it’s important that we realize how valuable they are in other areas – they can complement common neurotypical strengths.

It’s why so many companies are putting more emphasis on the importance in the diversity of thought.

When I was a child, my parents encouraged – well, more like forced – me to make eye contact.

“Look me in the eyes when I speak to you,” they’d bark.

They didn’t understand how painful making eye contact can be for me. It feels like I’m forcing myself to hold my hand over an open flame. My body is screaming at me. My brain is triggering every muscle to move, and it takes every ounce of energy to restrain myself.

I always wondered why it wasn’t easy for me. And why it never seemed to bother anyone else. It wasn’t until my autism diagnosis that I understood. Since then, I’ve questioned a lot of social norms that don’t seem reasonable.

We attach certain character traits to someone who makes steady eye contact during a conversation. But if we force everyone to do it, does it really mean anything?

Our society adopted eye contact as an important part of nonverbal communication. For many in Western society, we believe it conveys respect, attentiveness, and confidence. Yet, there is no basis for this perception. And by accepting and enforcing this expectation, we are marginalizing those with neurodivergent conditions (like autism), different cultural backgrounds, and personal trauma. 

The Many Myths of Eye Contact

It isn’t a myth that many autistic people are uncomfortable with establishing and maintaining eye contact. Many, especially women who went undiagnosed as children, force themselves to either suffer the discomfort or pretend to look people in the eyes. Pretending can be looking at a person’s ear, nose, or mouth. Somewhere close to the eyes to appear as though we are following social expectations.

But this expectation – to make eye contact during conversations – was established on assumptions. Eye contact is not needed for effective communication.

Let’s look at a few eye contact myths.

Eye Contact is Universally Expected

My first university was in Hawai’i and had a large Asian student base. One of my professors started the first day of class with a speech directed at the Asian students in the room – “In the United States, your role as students is to take part in class, raise your hand and answer questions, and look me in the eyes when you speak with me.”

My heart sank for them. I knew firsthand what it was like to be forced to conform to uncomfortable social standards. In many Asian cultures, eye contact, especially with an authority figure, is perceived as rude and disrespectful.

As our world grows smaller and more connected, we must recognize that nonverbal communication isn’t always universal.

What is appropriate in one culture may not be in another culture.

Eye contact is not a universally accepted practice.

Are you paying attention to me?

Sitting in a meeting, having coffee with a friend, or conversing with the bank teller; in all conversations eye contact is used to measure the level of attentiveness of the other person. But as a former high school teacher, I can tell you from experience that avoiding eye contact doesn’t mean someone isn’t paying attention. I’ve had many ADHD students doodling in their notebooks who could still recite verbatim what I said and participate in class discussions while never lifting their eyes from the paper in front of them.

Some people need to avert their gaze to focus on what you are saying. 

Autism is another example. As an autistic, my brain doesn’t filter out unnecessary external stimuli. It takes a lot of effort to hear and process a conversation when you can’t filter out unimportant details. The music in the restaurant, the waiter rushing past the table, the temperature of the room, and monitoring my facial expressions can be overwhelming.

Now I’m expected to read my conversation partner’s facial expressions on top of all that? It’s too much. Cue the sensory overload!

Sensory overload will also interfere with my audio-processing ability. Looking someone in the eye increases the number of times I have to ask the other person to repeat themselves. Removing the need to read their face, especially their eyes, makes cutting through the other external stimulus easier. I can then focus on processing what they are communicating verbally.

Contrary to society’s assumption, averting my gaze doesn’t mean I’m uninterested. I want to focus on what you’re saying as much as possible, so I look away.

And research supports my experience.

Researchers studied gaze aversion in allistic individuals and discovered that “averting the gaze has functional consequences. That is, for moderately difficult questions, people are more accurate [with their answers] when they avert their gaze (here, close their eyes) than when they do not.”

And they “speculate that averting the gaze helps people to disengage from environmental stimulation and thereby enhances the efficiency of cognitive processing directed by nonenvironmental stimulation.”

Any autistic person can tell you it does. But, as it turns out, it helps everyone, too, not only us neurodivergent folk.

Averting our gaze can improve our cognitive abilities.

Liar, liar, pants on fire!

Every time I’d tell my parents the truth they would demand that I look them in the eyes and tell them.

I learned early on that eye contact = truthfulness. Since 4th or 5th grade, I forced myself to look the other person in the eye when someone questioned my integrity.

It worked for a while. Until my little sister mastered lying to our parents’ faces, she held her gaze steady and calm. And she got away with many horrible things because of it.

It’s crazy that we make these assumptions about eye contact. I guess it’s because we view eyes as the “windows into the soul.” We assume a liar would look away to avoid feeling exposed through eye contact. But research says that’s not the case. Liars, in fact, are more deliberate in their eye contact.

“It comes as no surprise that most people think gaze aversion signals deception. Intuitively, this makes sense. People who feel embarrassed avoid eye contact. People who feel ashamed avoid eye contact. People who are under a heavy cognitive load tend to avoid direct eye contact. However, it does come as a surprise that research shows there is no connection between lying and the amount of eye contact between the liar and the target of the lie.”

Jack Schafer Ph.D.

Also, looking away while speaking can help with accurate memory retrieval. In short, it improves your chances of telling the truth – in accurate details.  

Each of these studies chips away at our assumptions about eye contact and, hopefully, leads us to consider other assumptions about nonverbal communication.

Awareness can help us be inclusive of everyone

If we want a more inclusive society, we should revisit our expectations around social norms, like making eye contact.

Research tells us that what we know about making eye contact isn’t accurate. And we are leaving people behind because of it. For example, one of my coworkers removed a candidate from consideration because he couldn’t make eye contact. “It’s just weird, you know?” she said.

Did she pay attention to his experience? Or his answers to her questions? No. In fact, she dismissed a high-quality candidate because he didn’t conform to her assumptions about non-verbal communication.

We need to open ourselves to different communication styles.

Accept, don’t judge, people for averting their gaze during a conversation. Recognize that forcing eye contact can traumatize many and only increase social anxiety.

Many people are confident and knowledgeable but are uncomfortable making eye contact.

More and more autistics are speaking up about our experiences. But our call for a society that is aware and inclusive doesn’t stop at us – it extends beyond us. That’s what I love most about autistic awareness. The more we question social norms and accept autistic differences, the more we accept everyone’s differences. 

Recognizing and respecting that nonverbal communication styles often deviate from the norm, we listen more and assume less.

So, as we challenge social norms such as eye contact, let’s move beyond the “disability” label and remind ourselves that this is inclusion in action. Communication styles vary from culture to culture, brain to brain, and are influenced by personal experiences such as trauma and anxiety.

Put more weight on a speaker’s words than their ability to follow social norms. And remain consciously aware that much of what we understand about nonverbal communication is fluid and often rooted in false assumptions.

And please don’t ever force your child to look you in the eye.