Eye contact is one of those unspoken rules that no one explains, but everyone expects. “Look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you.” “You seem so untrustworthy when you don’t look up!”
For years, I tried to follow this rule, forcing myself to hold someone’s gaze for just a few seconds longer than felt natural. It didn’t take long to realize that eye contact isn’t just hard for me—it’s almost unbearable.
What Eye Contact Feels Like
Imagine staring directly into the sun. Your instinct is to look away, but you’re told to keep looking, no matter how much it hurts. That’s what eye contact feels like for me.
When I look someone in the eye, my brain feels like it’s working overtime. I’m trying to focus on their words, their facial expressions, the meaning behind what they’re saying—all while ignoring the discomfort of their gaze.
It’s not that I don’t want to connect. It’s that eye contact uses up so much of my mental energy that I have none left for the actual conversation.
The Cost of Eye Contact
As a kid, I didn’t know how to explain why eye contact felt wrong, so I just avoided it. Teachers said I was “rude.” Classmates called me “weird.” Adults asked why I always seemed distracted.
I learned to mask, training myself to fake eye contact by looking at someone’s nose or forehead instead. But even that came with a cost: headaches, exhaustion, and a lingering sense of disconnection.
One time, during a job interview, I focused so much on maintaining eye contact that I completely forgot how to answer the questions. I walked out feeling like a failure—not because I wasn’t qualified, but because I couldn’t perform the “simple” act of looking someone in the eye.
Why It’s Hard for Autistic People
- Sensory Overload: Eye contact is a sensory experience, and for autistic people, it can be overwhelming.
- Intense Focus: Looking someone in the eye feels like staring directly into their soul—an intimate act that demands energy and attention.
- Cultural Norms: Eye contact isn’t universal. In some cultures, avoiding eye contact is a sign of respect, not rudeness.
How I Navigate Eye Contact
Over time, I’ve developed strategies to make eye contact less draining:
- Alternate Focus: I switch between looking at the person’s eyes, their hands, and the space just over their shoulder.
- Set Limits: In long conversations, I give myself permission to look away when I need a break.
- Explain Myself: I tell people upfront, “I might not make eye contact, but I’m still listening.” Most are understanding once I explain.
What I Wish People Knew
If someone avoids eye contact, it doesn’t mean they’re disinterested, dishonest, or rude. It just means their brain works differently.
Here’s how you can help:
- Don’t Force It: Let them engage in a way that feels natural for them.
- Be Patient: Understand that eye contact can be physically and mentally exhausting.
- Focus on Connection: A meaningful conversation is about more than where your eyes are.
Visual Snapshot
I’m sitting at my desk, facing a blank wall covered with sticky notes and sketches. My lamp casts a warm glow, illuminating the faint outlines of my scribbled thoughts. The room is quiet, save for the gentle hum of my space heater, and my focus is on the words in front of me—not on anyone else’s gaze.
It’s a moment of pure clarity, where I feel completely in tune with my own mind. No eye contact required.
FAQ
Q: Why does eye contact feel so uncomfortable?
A: For many autistic people, eye contact is a sensory experience that demands intense focus, making it hard to process other parts of a conversation.
Q: Can you train yourself to make eye contact?
A: To some extent, yes. But it often comes at a cost, like increased stress or exhaustion.
Q: How can I communicate effectively without eye contact?
A: Focus on active listening—nodding, responding, and asking follow-up questions. These cues matter more than where your eyes are.
Final Thoughts
Eye contact is often seen as the gold standard of communication, but it’s not the only way to connect. For me, meaningful interactions happen in the words we share, the ideas we exchange, and the energy between us—not in whether or not I meet your gaze.
If you’re someone who struggles with eye contact, know this: your value isn’t measured by where you look. You’re still worthy of connection, understanding, and respect.
And if you’re wondering where my eyes are right now, they’re focused on the soft flicker of a candle on my desk, dancing in the quiet of this room. It’s where I feel at peace.
