Why I Don’t Always Answer Right Away (and Why That’s Not a Crisis)

Okay, so first things first, if you’ve ever asked me a question and I didn’t answer right away, congrats, you’ve just experienced my brain doing what it does normally. It’s not because I didn’t hear you. It’s not because I’m trying to be mysterious. And I’m definitely not malfunctioning. I’m just, processing.

It's like a computer, but one that's juggling twenty tabs simultaneously, looking at a lot of theories and stuff, thinking about a video from 2017, and completing a side thought while you're waiting for my response of "yes" or "no."

I don't always explain why it takes me longer than a snail on vacation to respond sometimes, but maybe I should. I get why people might think I'm a bit quirky, though I'm really not (I promise!). Back in the day, I'd just stand there looking like I'd taken a quick trip to Mars, only to eventually say, "Yeah, that's cool," even if I had no clue what I was agreeing to. My response time used to rival a sloth's because I wasn't always sure what to say, and I didn't want to accidentally agree to something like bungee jumping off a bridge. These days, I don't stress about it as much. I just try to think of something sensible to say and go with it. As I get older I think my brain's wiring seems to have changed. I've become a pro at people-watching and eavesdropping, uh, I mean, listening, which really helps too! I think that is dry humor.

I didn't always have the best approach and could be quite stubborn at times, but I'm learning. One day, my mom sat me down and said something like: "Micaiah, we, your family and friends, understand you. We know how your mind works, but people outside of us might not realize what's happening when you don't respond immediately." I suppose I'm a bit like my dad, who also thinks a lot before answering questions, but perhaps I'm more extreme. My mom would tell me that when people who don't know me think I might be rude for not responding right away, it might be because they don't understand me and how my mind works. It's okay to explain to them my reason and to let them know that I'm on the autism spectrum. She also told me that everybody won't understand and some people won't care so I should be prepared for that if it happens and it's ok if they don't get it.

When my mom said that to me, it made me think: Wait, I can just tell people what’s going on in my brain? Like use words to explain what my brain is doing? I never had thought about that before.

The deal is that I’m on the Autism Spectrum and it means my brain is wired differently, and I’m cool with that. But it also means I don’t always answer right away because my brain’s still gathering the information, sorting it, making sure it’s accurate, and triple-checking if I actually want to answer that question at all. I tell people that, I’m not slow. I’m thorough.

I had this one time when I was at Walgreens helping this customer and he asked me where the thermometers were. My brain went, “Okay, thermometers. Health section. Shelf three. Next to the cold meds. Or wait, are they with baby stuff now? Did they move?”

So I paused. And paused. And kept pausing.

The guy looked at me like I just blue-screened. He even looked over my shoulder like, “Is there a manager nearby?” Which was wild because I had the answer. I just didn’t say the answer yet. But I didn’t say anything about being autistic either. I just awkwardly pointed in a general direction and said, “That way-ish.” I don;t feel real good about that one, but I did learn that what my mom was saying was true about people who might get frustrated when I don't answer them or say anything because this guy seemed pretty upset with me.

So it's kind of a flash forward, three months later at the same store. There was this other customer who had asked me another question. This time I said it before the pause even started: “Hey, just so you know, I’m autistic, so sometimes it takes me a little longer to answer because my brain works differently. I got you, though.” And he was like, “Oh, cool man. No worries. Take your time.” Boom. Magic. No awkwardness. No weird stares. Just acceptance and I was proud of myself. It was a different kind of proud now because I am adult and I was by myself instead of my mom standing next to me cheering me on. Which is annoying sometimes by the way but I love my mom.

That moment hit me like a pie in the face: people just need to know what's up! I had to brave the storm of blurting it out, crossing my fingers that it didn't sound like a sword fight. If I keep quiet, they'll concoct wild stories in their heads, like I'm a grumpy cat, a lost puppy, or just snoozing with my eyes open. When in reality, I'm just a mental ninja, stealthily crafting my response! Well that's how I see myself.

My thought about this is that being different isn’t bad. It’s just different. My brain might take the long way, but it gets there. And honestly? I’d rather be someone who thinks deeply and answers with intention than someone who blurts out whatever just to fill the silence. I don't like dong that because it doesn't make sense at all to me, especially now that I know a little better than I used.

So if I don’t answer you right away, don’t panic. I’m not frozen. I’m just choosing my words with the precision of a samurai sword. (And possibly sorting through eight tabs in my brain first.)

Signed,

Micaiah – brain-powered, pause-friendly, full-time processor