Journeys with Autism

All my life, I’ve considered myself to have a poor sense of direction. Actually, poor doesn’t really describe it. It’s more a feeling of having been born without any sense of direction at all. I’ve always said that if I think I should go left, I should go right—except for those few times that I should go left. I’ve gotten lost in all the great cities of Europe. (Okay, most of them. The other ones I haven’t been to.) I’ve gotten lost on rural Massachusetts backroads. I’ve gotten lost on highways. I’ve gotten lost in suburbs. You get the idea.

But that was then, and this is now. Maybe it’s menopause, or maybe I’m just more self-aware, or maybe it’s that I’ve redefined “lost” to mean “having an adventure,” but I seem to be developing a sense of direction here in mid-life, and I’m astonished.

I first noticed this new phenomenon when I was taking a walk through the woods a few weeks ago. It had taken me a long time to venture into the woods, even though the trails are well marked. Some months ago, I began by walking straight into the woods for a quarter mile or so, and then walking straight out. Over time, I learned to take the same winding trail over and over, even when parts of it weren’t marked at all. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I decided that I just wanted to ramble into unknown territory. A number of trails criss-cross one another, and I figured, “Well, even if I get lost, it’s not as though I’m going to end up in New Hampshire. I won’t won’t even make it out of Brattleboro.” So I rambled. At one point, I took a byway I’d never taken, and then I did something I’d never done before: I stopped and oriented myself. I could tell just where I was: which side of town I was facing, which familiar path was parallel to mine, and which way I had to go to make a circle and get back. And sure enough, when I was done, I came out just where I’d thought I would! I was amazed.

As I meditated on this new achievement, I realized that a large part of my success was due to the fact that I was alone. When I’m walking with Bob or with a friend, I’m usually talking and listening, which necessitates all of my attention. I have to focus so much to decode what the other person is saying, and to articulate what I want to say, that I cannot pay attention to where I am. For this reason, I usually get in the habit of going on a path I know well; if I’m familiar with the path, I don’t have to pay much attention to it and can converse all I like. If I’m unfamiliar with the path and can’t pay attention to it because I’m conversing, I have to depend on the other person. I don’t much like depending on other people to tell me where I am, so I don’t tend to explore new routes with others. And until that day in the woods, I’d never explored them myself. So it was really fun and very empowering to realize that I could do it.

Last week, my new-found confidence was put to the test: I drove to my daughter’s soccer game in Putney, a 15-minute drive up the highway from Brattleboro. I hadn’t been on the highway in a year or so, and I had never been to the school where the soccer match was taking place. However, directions in hand, I made my way. At one point, I went the wrong way, but that was because the directions were unclear; the instructions said to follow a left-hand fork when, in fact, I should have taken a left-hand turn. As soon as I realized my mistake, I headed back to a gas station, asked directions, and found my way just fine. As it turned out, my daughter’s bus had gone the wrong way, too, and for exactly the same reason!

Then, today, I had a bit of an adventure. I drove to Miracles in Motion in Keene, NH—about a half hour each way. I found my way to my lesson without any trouble, but on the way back, I took a wrong turn. It was at one of those highway forks with five different road signs, and I hadn’t stopped to think whether I wanted NH-10/NH-12 North or South. Unfortunately, I took the path of least resistance and ended up going North. I realized my mistake immediately, took a deep breath, and said, “Okay. Just take the next exit and find your way back.” It wasn’t quite that simple, but I made it to the middle of Keene and decided to look for signs for NH-10/NH-12 South. After a couple of miles, I could see that I wasn’t getting anywhere, so I turned and headed in another direction. The whole time, I was thinking about how nice it would have been to have a map of the area, and maybe my iPod to access MapQuest, but I didn’t have either one, so I decided to look for a gas station. As I was looking, it occurred to me that if I continued heading out of town, I’d find a state highway. And so I did. I headed out of town and found NH-12 South! I kept following the signs until I was back on the right road.

So, was I lost? I’d prefer to think not. I took a wrong turn and went out of my way for awhile, but with a little bit of thinking, I found my way back, without any tears, fears, or self-deprecating thoughts. In fact, at one point, I thought, “Well, it’s taking a little longer to get home than I would like, but here’s a good opportunity to practice my driving!” By the time I got home, it was as though I’d never taken a year-long break from the road. That’s how confident I felt.

Perhaps everything went so well today because I was alone. In the past, when I was driving my daughter hither and yon, so much was going on. We’d be talking, or music would be playing, or I’d simply be focused on what was going on with her, and sometimes, if we were in unfamiliar territory, I’d get lost. As a result, my daughter has seen some beautiful countryside from the car.

You do see some great things when you get lost, but I like this new sense of spatial orientation quite a bit. I think I’ll continue developing it.

© 2010 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg