Response Paralysis

Neurospicy Poems
Aug 29
3 min read

A quiet drama unfolding

by Neurospicy Poems

Characters from left to right: Rejection Sensitivity and PDA

I only said it

because I care.

Our friend is fading,

kept passive,

everyone too afraid to speak.

I wanted you to know —

not to stir drama,

not to gossip,

but because it’s the truth.

As a friend, I’d want to know.

The truth is painful,

but your avoidance

hurt more.

Your reply skipped straight to logistics —

a date, a time —

as if protective anger

can be scheduled,

as if worry can wait politely

until face-to-face.

My chest burns.

Shame whispers:

maybe I crossed a line.

maybe I’m too much.

maybe I’m embarrassing.

The old chorus

that rises

whenever honesty falls flat.

Why does this wound me so much?

Because I spoke from justice,

from a passionate heart.

But I’ve never mastered

the art of polite conversation.

I can’t do pleasantries —

I breathe honesty like fire,

naming what others smooth away.

I honour those brave enough to say,

“yes, that really sucks,”

who taste the whole truth,

and refuse to swallow it down.

It may look insignificant —

your missing sentence,

the gap in the thread.

But when nothing is said,

I feel the weight

of everything unsaid.

And I wonder — what are you hiding?

Have I done something wrong?

Do you think you’re above me?

Maybe it’s not about me.

Maybe you’re just uncomfortable

diving deep over WhatsApp,

preferring to wait

until we meet in person.

I would rather you just say.

Because now my whole body is responding —

but paralysed,

holding on to the silence

you left behind.

---

Author’s Note

In Response Paralysis, several of my voices collide. PDA (Persistent Drive for Autonomy) rises as protective fire, railing against the demand to be “polite” when injustice touches someone I love. She resists the expectation to reply, since even tiny demands can feel like shackles, and sometimes mirrors silence back when she feels ignored. Rejection Sensitivity amplifies the quiet into pain and twists it into “I must have done something wrong… maybe I’m too much.” Autism notices the missing sentence and cannot let it go because honesty and consistency are non-negotiable. ADHD brings emotional intensity and quick spirals of thought. Hyperempathy feels my friend’s decline as if it were my own. Inner Critic seizes the moment to replay old accusations such as bitchy, dramatic, inappropriate and pulls me deeper into shame.

Other voices hum beneath the surface. C-PTSD brings the freeze response and the old shame of “I should have known better.” Alexithymia clouds the storm of feelings. Dissociation locks my body while my mind races. Justice Sensitivity is the reason I spoke at all, my refusal to ignore decline, or injustice when I see it happening.

Together, these voices create a complex storm I cannot untangle in the moment, which manifests as paralysis. The clash is so intense that my body freezes. I want to respond, but I cannot. This poem shows how a seemingly small gap in a message thread can feel enormous when your whole system is wired for honesty, justice, and depth, and how paralysing it feels when those values meet silence.