Different Language, Same Planet: What a Game of Telephone Taught Me About Autism

I grew up in West Texas—a beautiful place, but not exactly known for being ahead of the curve on mental health. When I started school at Texas Tech (Wreck ‘em, Raiders!), I had heard of autism, but only through a very narrow, biased lens. So when the school counselor mentioned that she thought I might be autistic, I was… honestly almost offended.

At the time, I only knew one little boy with autism, and I didn’t see myself in him at all. (I know—I’m rolling my eyes at past me too. Thank goodness for growth.)

But the more I thought about it, the more interesting it became. And I did what any good student would do—I wrote papers. Lots of them.

My degree was in communication, and that background gave me a unique way to think about autism. Not just as a different brain structure—but as a different language.

There’s a small study I came across (I’ll link it if I find it again) that really stuck with me. Researchers formed three groups: one entirely neurotypical, one entirely neurodivergent, and one mixed. Each group played the game “telephone”—you know, where someone whispers a phrase like “I like French toast” down a line, and by the end it turns into “I let friends host.”

What they found was fascinating. The neurotypical group and the neurodivergent group were both able to pass the message down fairly accurately. But the mixed group? The message fell apart every time.

This study was small, but it sparked something in me. It made so much sense.

Autistic people don’t literally speak a different language—but it can feel like it. I’ve seen this first-hand, in the most unexpected place: a game of Heads Up.

My husband and I were on a team (he hasn’t been formally diagnosed with anything, but you know what they say: birds of a feather). We crushed it. We got almost every word right, even with the vaguest hints. My family was baffled. They kept saying it was like watching two people who spoke a completely different language that only they understood.

That’s when it clicked. This isn’t about being broken or wrong. It’s about being wired differently—like speaking dialects of the same human experience.

So next time you meet someone whose communication feels a little “off” to you—whether they’re neurotypical or neurodivergent—give them some grace. They might just be speaking a different language.

Curious about the double empathy problem?

I’d love to hear how you’ve experienced this in your own life—whether you’re neurodivergent, neurotypical, or still figuring it out. Leave a comment or share your story with me!

Stated study:

“The Double Empathy Problem” by Damian Milton