Aphantasia and me

2 years ago I wrote an article at work about aphantasia and how it affected me. People found it helpful and at least one person had the realisation as a result that they had it too. However, I’ve been reluctant to publish it externally, for the simple reason that I’m no medical expert, and all of this is based on my limited knowledge of the subject but, particularly, how it affects me, especially considering that how it affects me will be different for others.

Never-the-less, I’ve decided to do so, albeit edited for a different audience and brought up to date with more recent notes from myself.

What is aphantasia?

Let me get this out of the way first – aphantasia is NOT a film starring Mickey Mouse 😉 It’s the inability to conjure images in your mind (no “minds eye”, if you will). Try this – close your eyes and think of your family. See their faces? That’s what someone with aphantasia can’t do. That’s me.

The word means “lacking imagination”, which is odd because if you look at the famous people who have it, an awfully large proportion are artists (mainly written authors, though – less so the visual arts).

Not a great deal is known about it – most people have it all their life, others gets it when some event triggers it. In my case I’m in the latter category.

Can you dream?

I’m going to answer this because it’s amazing how often this is asked. Yes, you can still dream when you have aphantasia. In fact, I’m a lucid dreamer too, but that’s a topic for another time.

How does it affect you?

That’s why I wanted to write this article, to make awareness of it in general but also the effects it can have.

Most people, myself included, have less vivid autobiographical memories, as well as all aspects of memory. Electronic tools such as Todoist and Apple Notes are my friend. That first one, though (the autobiographical memories), is the bit that hit me the hardest, and no amount of apps can help me – there are large gaps in my own history that I simply can’t remember. Everything post getting it appears fine, although that may be because it’s so recent. But losing memories of your children is heart-breaking.

Day-to-day, it affects me when it comes to facial recall. Most people don’t realise it but our brains use stored images of people’s faces when trying to identify them. I can’t do this, so mine remembers details. And sometimes badly (as it’s a subconscious action). I’ve mixed up people who look NOTHING alike, simply because they’d been wearing similar clothing and had the same accent. That’s embarrassing.

I also think people look alike when others don’t (I’m using different cues than most people), and otherwise (“don’t you think the baby looks like their mother?” “Erm, no”).

When I’m at conference I can be seen looking at ID badges even for people I’ve met multiple times before. It’s often been years since I did, there’s been a pandemic and my description recall is way out of date. Of course, people don’t know that and feel annoyed that I don’t remember them.

One other area that it does affect me is some aspects of my imagination (and might help explain what I said earlier about the visual arts). But only in some ways. That lack of visualisation means I’m now terrible at building Lego (which I have a passion for). And by that I mean just putting bricks together to build something new, rather than from a set of instructions. As a child I did this all the time but I no longer can – I still have the passion for Lego, but the pre-designed sets.

Musical memories

For those who know me, I regularly perform in local, amateur theatre (known as “community theatre” in other parts of the world). Specifically musicals.

I can sing. I can act. I definitely can’t dance. But that’s unrelated. What I also can’t do is remember songs or lines. So much of our memory is visual without us realising – even sitting down with the lyrics of a song, you’re often seeing the words on the page in your head when you later recall it. Combine that with age (I’ll admit it) and my memory is less like the kitchen colander, and more a sieve.

My main method of learning until now has been by rote. Listening to music over for a long time. In the same way we can all recall lyrics from our favourite songs or quote lines from specific movies. You’ve not sat down and learnt those.

I’ve just performed in a show that is VERY wordy. Pretty much everything was sung and was complex, with foreign names, dates, and all sorts thrown into the mix. As a member of the ensemble, rather than a principal member of the cast, I didn’t feel the need to be learning it for the previous 6 months. That was a mistake. Leaving it until the last minute left me not enough time to learn it.

Thankfully I know someone who is an expert with neurodiversity. And just happens to by a professional actor too. So they’ve been helping me with some learning techniques that have really helped. The thing is, different people, even those with aphantasia, are going to find different ways that work them in. In my case, as an example, back-chaining has been incredible helpful.

There’s still much to do. This show, in particular, was a call-out to me. That, although I do have solutions, the best thing to do is to start learning it as soon as I can, and not put it off. I’m still learning, but that also means progressing.

The example I’m giving here is to say that, yes, aphantasia will affect you. And in different ways. But adaption is the key. We are taught at school, and elsewhere, to follow methods that are defined by the majority, and those simply may not work for us – we just need to find our own path.