Postcards From My Mind: Perspectives of Asperger's Syndrome

(5) Ability to Generalize

Throughout our lives we are constantly sharing – information, experiences, property, you name it! One benefit of sharing is we don’t need to reinvent the wheel. Try this exercise: You’re going into the business of grocery stores. In your mind create your version of a grocery store. You probably started off with a prototype model (aisles, food & other items, cash registers, etc.). All of this information is borrowed from your past experiences of what a grocery store looks like. Then you probably added a special flair that was unique to you (A name? A special type of food? A preferred color for marketing?)

After childhood, the majority of information we take in each day is not new information but mostly twists on an old theme. The small amounts of new information we encounter each day we assimilate based upon old paradigms. For example, approximately every 4 years car manufactures change the body style of their cars. The first time you see this car will you know it’s a car? Of course you will. You have taken new information and incorporated it into your old schemata of what you know the prototype of a car should look like.

Between literal interpretations and the inability to generalize information, people on the autism spectrum have a difficult time getting through the day relating to people. Most people say half of their message and leave the rest for inference. I was in the store yesterday with my friend and she said to me, “Oh, I have this turtleneck” pointing to a rack of clothes, “Remember, I bought last week”. Immediately my mind and body became flustered as they do when a piece of information isn’t correct. Becoming more anxious I felt compelled to correct her, “No, you don’t have the turtleneck”. We bantered back and forth for a few minutes. Finally, the reality came out and what she meant was I have a turtleneck that is similar.

To most people, the concept of similar is familiar. It comes under the generalization category of “close enough”. In Asperger’s Syndrome information is either exact or it doesn’t belong in the same category. Phrases like “similar” or “kind of” don’t exist. To my mind “similar” is different. The word “same” implies a carbon copy. If it’s not a carbon copy then the only alternative is to be different. Along the same lines, one day a friend said to me, when you leave me a message you don’t need to leave the exact time (such as 8:43am) that you left the message – it sounds weird. You should say it’s 8:30 in the morning. The concept of rounding number when one goes beyond 2 digits makes sense to me, but estimation in general has always been difficult. Again, there is no middle ground. It’s 8:43am – Saying it was 8:30 or 9:00 would be a lie.

If someone tells me they will meet me at 9:00 am I expect them to be there at 9:00am – not a second earlier or later. If they don’t arrive precisely at 9:00am I become extremely agitated. About a year ago my friend Laurie taught me there is a window (or range) of acceptable time which consists of 15 minutes (almost like a standard deviation. Someone could come from 8:45 – 9:15 and still be considered “on-time”). Of course I took this information and ran with it. This was an OK rule that I could live with. What I didn’t learn until a few weeks after that was everyone has their own “15 minute” rule. For some it’s 20 minutes, others it’s 2 hours. This algorithm was too complicated and, unfortunately, I’m back to my rigid self.

When consulting to classes, on schedule boards (similar to a calendar), I have the teacher write a time range, rather then the exact time. This helps with anxiety. I do this by taking a clock and putting two hands with cellophane between them so the child knows that the class will line up for art between 12:35-12:40.

When I store information it’s packaged in chunks. If I enter a new building the building is stored as a picture with the date stamped on it. When I reenter that building at another time, in my mind, I click up a picture of the building in my and expect it to be the same. As a child I would become disoriented and confused if the building (space) had changed. It was as if it were a new building and, because I didn’t generalize information properly, I didn’t know the rules or routine. The rules I knew were how to behave in my library, or in my dad’s office, or at Yankee Stadium. Because I was missing categories, my library did not equal libraries.

Generalization information makes one more flexible because instead of being a right or wrong answer or way to do things, there is a range of ways that are considered correct. Additionally, generalization gives people the capacity to manipulate information in their mind to mentally try out new situations. For example, James is having a meeting with his boss about a difficult subject. James fantasizes various ways to tell his boss the information. In one scene his boss puts his hand on James’ shoulder and says, “I understand”. The in the next scene his boss kicks him out of the room… The same scene has occurred just the outcome has changed. Since I have learned to generalize information my life has become more flexible. I don’t get thrown as easily when there is a kink in my day.

One area that I’ve not conquered yet is the modality that information is presented in and how it is stored. As a child I remember all of the rules very well. No hitting, no biting, no scratching, sit and look at the teacher, blah, blah, blah. If anyone asked me to recite the rules I could tell you them one after another. Applying the rules was another situation all together. What I think happens is when the rules (or information) are taught to me I am calmly seated at a desk. The rules are taught to the outer part of my brain called the new mammalian brain.

Once I’m in a different sensory state, either aroused from running on the playground, over-stimulated, or feeling a strong emotion, the garage door to my outer brain (new mammalian cortex) is closed and my inner brain, old mammalian cortex (aka: amygdala or emotional part of our brains) is opened. Because information doesn’t generalize, lessons taught to my new mammalian brain remain there and do not generalize to the old mammalian brain. In other words, lessons that are taught cognitively stay cognitive. Lessons that are taught in an emotional state stay emotional. When lessons are taught to both parts of my brain, I have a more “normal” reaction. As a child I operated with two different sets of information. When I was aroused (either from running around or feeling an emotion) and when I was calm. For so many years I felt so frustrated that I just didn’t seem to remember the rules when I was out on the playground.

Originally I assumed that executive functioning, like the ability to socialize, was just another symptom. What I didn’t realize was executive functioning was the foundation of my disorder. This inability to internally organize affected all aspects of my life including language, socialization, and symbolic play.

 

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