Literal Communication, Autism, and Why It’s Not Just a “Misunderstanding”
As an autistic woman, I communicate and interpret things literally. That doesn’t mean I’m stubborn or difficult. It means if you want me to know something, you need to actually say it. I don’t fill in blanks, I don’t assume, and I don’t magically absorb the “implied meaning” behind your words.
Here’s an example.
Someone told me, “Get your clothes ready the night before.” So I did. My stuff was ready. The next morning, they left at some random time, came back later, and said, “You didn’t do what I asked you to do. I wanted you to be ready by this time.”
But here’s the problem: they never said a time.
If you want me to be up at 8 AM, then you need to say “be ready at 8 AM.” Otherwise, how would I know? I can’t read your mind. And if I’m sleeping right next to you, and it matters that I get up at a certain time, why not wake me up? Instead, I get blamed for “not doing what was asked,” when in reality, I did exactly what was asked.
Then it turned into: “I did say a time, didn’t I?”—which is gaslighting. No, you didn’t. I was listening to the entire conversation, and no time was stated. Adding details after the fact to cover for poor communication isn’t fair, and it makes me question my own memory when I know what I heard. Why would I know to get my stuff ready, but then not know exactly what time to have it ready by, if you said a specific time? Believe it or not, many autistic individuals have an impeccable memory when it comes to situations like this, because they tend to end up in them often.
This is where the ableism comes in.
It’s ableist to expect me to communicate like you and then punish me when I don’t. My communication style is valid. If you already know I’m autistic and I tell you my needs—and you ignore that, then blame me later, that’s on you, not me. But I think the most frustrating part about this dynamic is that a lot of people are unwilling to learn about what autism truly entails, but then they get frustrated with you when you exhibit traits that are universal to autism.
And here’s another layer: I have slower processing speeds, and my auditory processing isn’t always the best. One time when I worked at Amazon, a lady came up and just started talking at me. I had one headphone in, one ear open, but the warehouse was loud and chaotic. She never addressed me directly, just assumed I was listening, and when I turned and said “Huh?” she got mad and stormed off. The truth was, I didn’t hear her. Anddddd, she never actually made it clear she was talking to me.
Before I even knew I was autistic, I used to tell people I was hard of hearing, because that’s the closest way I could explain why things didn’t “click” right away. To this day, I still rely on subtitles when I watch TV shows, because it’s easier to process what I’m hearing if I can read it at the same time. That’s also why I love listening to the dramatized versions of the Bible while I read along—it makes the words click in both my ears and my eyes.
And, to add more “excuses” (since people love to frame it that way), it’s not exactly easy to hear and process anything in an environment where two TVs are constantly on, both blasting different sounds and stimuli. My senses are already being pulled in five directions at once. I’m just left confused at what I’m supposed to do in an environment that constantly overwhelms me.
So when someone says I’m “not listening” or “tuning out,” what they don’t understand is that there are real, neurological reasons why things don’t always register right away. It’s not me ignoring you—it’s me processing differently.
At the end of the day, clear communication isn’t “extra.” It’s accessibility. When you communicate directly, you’re not just helping me—you’re respecting me.
So here’s the takeaway:
Don’t expect autistic people to fill in blanks.
Don’t rewrite conversations after the fact to cover up your lack of clarity.
Don’t blame us for not catching “soft signals” when you never made it explicit.
And don’t ignore the sensory environments that make communication even harder.
Respecting autistic communication needs isn’t optional. It’s basic decency.
If you take anything from this post, let it be this: slow down, clarify, and listen with intention. For autistic people, communication isn’t broken — it’s simply different. And when we honor those differences, everyone benefits.”
