Small Talk? Fine. Big Talk? Great. Medium Talk? Help!

Does anyone else get stuck somewhere between “Nice Weather” and “Tell Me Your Trauma”?

I’m actually pretty good at small talk. Years in hospitality will do that to you. I can chat about the weather, compliment your dog, and ask if you’d like ice with that without even thinking about it.

And I genuinely love big talk — the deep, soul-bearing, “tell me everything about your life” kind of conversation. That’s where I feel comfortable. I’d happily sit with someone for hours listening to their inner world or sharing mine.

But medium talk? The awkward middle bit? That’s where everything unravels for me.

You know the space I mean — the conversational no-man’s-land between saying “Lovely weather today” and accidentally unpacking someone’s childhood. It’s the space where you’re expected to give a polite summary of your week without oversharing, show interest in other people’s lives without interrogating them, and somehow maintain a socially acceptable rhythm that doesn’t confuse anyone.

I think for neurodivergent folks, this middle ground can be surprisingly exhausting.

Medium Talk: The Social Bermuda Triangle

Small talk works because it has scripts.
Big talk works because it has depth and honesty.

Medium talk, however, relies on social timing, emotional nuance, the “right” amount of detail, and a collection of unspoken rules that no one actually teaches you. It’s completely improvised, and sometimes the stakes feel weirdly high.

And here’s where it gets even more complicated: when I accidentally drift into big talk too quickly, I can literally see people’s eyes glaze over. There’s this moment where they seem to realise they were not emotionally prepared for such intensity on a random Tuesday afternoon, and that’s usually when I think, “Ah. Too much. Reel it back in.”

But the opposite is just as painful. If someone asks a standard medium talk question like, “So, how have you been?” my brain immediately stops functioning. I get tongue-tied and can’t figure out what version of myself they want. Are they asking for the one-word answer? The polite summary? The emotional truth? The highlights? The lowlights? My brain tends to respond with something like, “Error 404: Conversation File Not Found.”

So I either give a full TED talk about something no one asked for, or I mumble “Yeah, fine” even when I’m barely holding on. There never seems to be an in-between.

And none of this makes us rude, odd, or disconnected. It simply means our brains work differently, and that’s okay.

Helpful Tips

Prepare your “medium menu.”
It can help to have a few safe, genuine mid-level topics ready to pull out when your brain freezes. Think of things like a recipe you tried, a TV show you watched, or a small funny moment from your week.

Bridge with curiosity.
A phrase like “It’s been a bit of a week — how about you?” creates connection without forcing you into a long explanation. It keeps things light while still feeling real.

Set gentle boundaries.
If small talk or medium talk drains you, it’s okay to name that kindly. You can say something like, “I sometimes struggle with chit-chat, but I’d really love to hear how you’ve been.” It’s honest without being intense.

Notice your energy.
If your brain starts buffering mid-conversation, give yourself permission to pause. You’re allowed to take a breath, gather your thoughts, or redirect gently. You’re not a conversation machine.

Offer a “headline or detail” choice.
You can ask, “Do you want the short version or the real version?” It’s playful, consensual, and takes the pressure off both sides.

Help Is at Hand…

Medium talk might never feel completely natural, and that’s genuinely okay. It is, however, often where everyday connection quietly develops, so finding ways to navigate it without draining yourself can make life a little easier.

And if you’d like to explore ways of connecting that feel more authentic, comfortable, and true to your neurodivergent self, you’re always welcome to come chat with me at Choose Your Way.