Imagine a teapot sitting on a stove, the heat slowly rising beneath it. As the temperature climbs, the water inside begins to bubble and churn. The pressure builds and builds until finally, with a sharp whistle, the steam bursts out, releasing the pent-up energy. This is how echolalia feels for me.

Echolalia is when someone repeats sounds, words, or phrases either silently in their mind or out loud. In my case, I experience both internal echolalia, where the repetition happens silently, and verbal echolalia, where I end up saying what I’ve heard out loud.

And everyone gets earworms, but not like this. Echolalia has an intensity that’s hard to comprehend unless experienced firsthand. For the longest time, I didn’t realize this was a distinctive feature of my autistic experience. I just assumed everyone else dealt with the same constant repetition, unaware of the unique hell it held for me.

And, for bonus points, I want you to know, I experience two different types of echolalia. Sometimes, it happens right after someone says something (immediate echolalia), while other times, it might pop up hours or days later (delayed echolalia).

Masking the awkward

Moreover, the complexity of echolalia extends beyond mere repetition. It comes with stigma, embarrassment, and often, ridicule. In some instances, verbalizing my echoes feels unsafe or uncomfortable. People don’t understand. So, I often resort to internalizing my echoes. This is a form of autistic masking where verbal echoes are suppressed. Basically, I attempt to hold my echoes inside. And honestly, it never works for me.

The result of masking to internalize my echoes never goes well. Like the teapot, eventually, I reach a boiling point, and verbalize my echoes.

Blurt it out

I internalize my echoes, so they are unnoticeable to others. But it’s impossible for me do this all the time. The internalized echoes leak out verbally. Sometimes I don’t notice that I’m echoing verbally. Especially in instances when I’m stressed or overstimulated.

A very recent example, at a town club meeting, we were amid a voting session, a routine occurrence for those familiar with town clubs. As the voting call went out, “All in favor, say ‘aye’,” I naturally responded with an “aye” to indicate my agreement. Then came the prompt, “All opposed, ‘same sign’. ”Without intending to, I found myself blurting out “SAME SIGN”. In that moment, embarrassment flooded over me as I realized what had happened. Sometimes, I don’t even notice these slips until they’re pointed out to me, or people look at me oddly.

Feeling mortified, I quickly explained, “I have a thing called echolalia, it sometimes makes me repeat phrases. I’m sorry.” I often attempt to give a short explanation, which is admittedly dehumanizing. The voting experience left me feeling incredibly self-conscious. It’s moments like these that highlight the challenges of living with echolalia, even in the most mundane of situations.

Liar, Liar, Teapot on Fire

Some people even say I’m making it up. When I slip and verbalize my echoes, I’m often called a liar. Or attention seeking. I’ve overheard: “She’s making it up, I see her all the time as she doesn’t do that.”

Honestly, though, If I don’t ‘do that’ around you, it’s probably because I don’t feel safe to unmask around you. I’m probably working very hard, constantly, to not let you see the vulnerable side of me. So, if I spend a lot of time around you, but you don’t often see me unmasked, it’s because I probably don’t feel safe or respected.

I’m worthy of respect

When I unmask and verbalize my echoes, especially in social settings, I often face ridicule and mocking from others. It can be tough because the things I repeat out loud are often awkward or emotional, making me feel vulnerable. The ridicule I experience can be incredibly hurtful.

Moreover, the stress of verbalizing my echoes can trigger stimming, a common behavior among autistic individuals. Stimming involves repetitive physical movements, such as hand flapping. Picture vigorously trying to shake off water from your hands after washing them—that’s how I stim when repeating these vulnerable phrases. Sadly, people often misunderstand and mock this coping mechanism. Its cruel. I sometimes try to explain, but y’all its tough.

Supporting echoes

Think of the last mean thing that was said to you. Now imagine yourself repeating that statement out loud, over-and-over, while flapping your hands. It’s a new level of dehumanizing when respect isn’t involved.

Thankfully, there are people in my life, like my spouse and best friend, with whom I feel comfortable unmasking and echoing around. Having people who understand and accepts this aspect of me can be incredibly comforting and reassuring.

However, even with the best intentions, there are moments when my spouse struggles to differentiate between what’s an echo and what’s a statement that requires a response. It’s a challenge we navigate together, and while it can sometimes lead to misunderstandings, we work through them.

Also, discussing my delayed echoes can be a helpful way to process confusing or upsetting experiences. These delayed echoes often stem from social misunderstandings or hurtful statements that linger in my mind. My mind refuses to dismiss the statement until it can be rationalized.

By verbalizing these echoes, I can better understand and cope with the emotions they evoke. It’s a way for me to unravel the tangled thoughts and feelings that sometimes weigh heavily on me, providing a sense of clarity and relief. While it may seem strange to others, this process of vocalizing my delayed echoes is a valuable tool in navigating the complexities of my emotions and interactions with others.

And often I echo hurtful things people say to me, or things that confuse me, so talking about them can be very freeing. The rationalization is normally this – they were being mean or rudely sarcastic, and sometimes that’s impossible to rationalize. So, understanding that factor helps me move on. I’ll never understand the motivation behind ridicule disguised as humor.

Dear reader

There are many other ways my echoes impact my life; sleep, concentration, mental health, emotional regulation, and beyond… but this is a niche post; focused on echolalia and the way I interact with others… so maybe I’ll get to writing about the other stuff someday.

So, dear reader, I trust this post has offered you a deeper insight into the intricacies of neurodiversity. Whether you identify as neurodiverse, autistic, or have experience with echolalia, remember that you are not alone, and your uniqueness is truly remarkable. And YOU DESERVE RESPECT AND SUPPORT.

So, if your mind feels like a teapot heating on the stove, take a moment to pour yourself a glass of tea. Perhaps add a lemon slice, especially if life has thrown you some lemons. Remember, you deserve to occupy space and find joy. I think you’re cool.

Understanding echolalia transcends mere recognition; it requires acknowledging its profound impact on the lives of autistic individuals. By shining a light on this often-misunderstood aspect of neurodiversity, we move closer to fostering empathy and building a world that embraces and celebrates every individual’s unique experience.

Sincerely,
Elizabeth
Uncustomary Housewife