We Don’t Talk Enough About Hyperverbality in Autism

Pun intended.

When people think of autism and communication, the focus is most often on those who are nonverbal or struggle with speech. Far less discussed are those of us who are hyperverbal—who speak incessantly, process thoughts aloud, and overshare without meaning to.

I know this experience intimately because I’ve lived both extremes: from being labeled "selectively mute" as a child to now being someone who verbalizes nearly every thought that crosses my mind when I am excited or scared.

For me, hyperverbality is an externalization of my internal monologue. Where others might pause, reflect, and carefully choose their words, I speak as I think, working through ideas in real time. This can make me appear more emotional or intense than I actually am because people witness a larger percentage of my cognitive process than they would with a neurotypical person.

Why Did I Become Hyperverbal?

As a little burnout, I frequently got stuck in my own head, paralyzed by the effort of figuring out what to say. Adults called it "selective mutism," but the reality was that I was drowning in unprocessed thoughts, unable to translate them into speech efficiently. At some point, I learned that if I externalized the process—if I just spoke instead of making everyone stare at me and wait for the "right" words to form—I could bypass the mental freeze response that came over me when I could see them wondering why I was taking so long to answer.

I also have divergent thought patterns, so I figured out along the way giving people some context helped them misinterpret me less.

The unintended consequence? Now, I never shut the fuck up.

The Double-Edged Sword of Hyperverbality

There are advantages to this way of communicating. I’m often praised for being articulate, self-aware, and expressive. I was raised in an East coast city by Italians and Jews. People barely noticed. But there are also significant challenges:

Oversharing Without Intent – Because I vocalize my thoughts as they form, I sometimes say things I don’t fully mean or share more than I intended. What feels like thinking aloud to me can come across as confessional or overly personal to others.

Being Misread as Angry or Emotional– The rawness of my verbal processing can make me seem more agitated than I am. A neurotypical person might internally dismiss a frustration before speaking, whereas I might voice it mid-processing, leading to misunderstandings.

Social Exhaustion– Not everyone has the patience for someone who talks *through* their thoughts rather than delivering polished statements. I’ve been called "too much," "intense," or "dramatic" when, really, I am just autistic, 47, and should have had speech therapy in second grade, I just never got it.

Navigating a World as a Hyperverbal Thinker

Society expects communication to be deliberate and controlled. We’re taught to "think before we speak," but for some of us, speaking is how we think. The pressure to conform to neurotypical standards of conversation can be exhausting—do I suppress my natural processing style to make others comfortable, or do I embrace it and risk alienation?

I don’t have a perfect solution, but I’ve learned a few coping mechanisms:

Scripting: Having go to phrases and talking points and trying hard not to stray from these. In complicated social situations, it helps me to embody a "character" or avatar that I put together who always reacts a certain way based off of my audience's expectations. I often wonder if this fall under "autism" or "CPTD with dissociative memory loss."

Mindfulness: regular daily meditation helps me self-regulate and exercise that "shut your face and think first, nobody's gonna yell at you and if they do fuck them" muscle.

Forgiving myself: Recognizing that everyone is an asshole sometimes.

We Need More Conversations About Hyperverbality

Autism is a spectrum, and communication styles vary wildly. Yet, hyperverbality is rarely discussed in the same way as being nonverbal is. For those of us who externalize our thoughts, the struggle isn’t being unable to speak—it’s being unable to stop speaking in a world that misinterprets that as aggression, instability, or social ineptitude.

I’d love to see more research, more awareness, and more acceptance of hyperverbal autistics. Because for some of us, talking isn’t just communication—it’s a trauma response.

Have you experienced hyperverbality in autism? How do you navigate it?