Unthinkable

 When I was around 10 years old, I somehow realized that I didn't think in words, so I asked people around me: "Do you think?... Like, in sentences, with words?" Blank stares and looking upward for an answer, friends tried to describe their thought processes - I asked again just a few weeks ago, some friends and I were hanging out - The answers, basically, were all "yes", they thought with words. I've come to understand my lack of internal wordiness, ironic for a writer, as "unsymbolized thinking." Every moment pulses with an insistence, waiting to be pierced, lifted to the mouth of my mind, and chomped with fervor; life itself is woven with subtle threads of metaphor. The world is a reflection of something more profound, yet elusive - I chase it relentlessly and never quite catch it.

There's another term I came across years ago, as an adult, which is "aphantasia" - the inability to visualize. I had read about the power of visualization - and I tried to visualize, but couldn't actually do it. I don't think with any kind of words, symbols or visions - it's just, well, blank... until I write something down, or say something, or play a tune. It has caused some confusion, trying to navigate my own thoughts as nebulous notions having to be pulled out into some kind of outward expression before I even know what they are.

It confuses others too. I guess I come across as not very bright - and frankly, it's true - it's pretty dim in there when I close my eyes - no amount of effort can conjure up a picture in my mind. And, as far as language goes, I really have to clearly enunciate, specifically, in my head to make a sentence happen - I. Am. Thinking. In. Words. Right. Now...

...so tedious.

In order to extract meaning, I have to express myself externally - but, I immediately understand once I've written it down or spoken it aloud, that trying to clarify what I mean is an endless proposition...  no one sentence or statement can encapsulate an idea with the type of clarity I'm looking for. Every conversation becomes a dance, not just a casual exchange, but a performance in which I try to communicate the symbolism behind every word. The depth of this non-thinking can be exhausting - a toast at a party becomes a quiet rebellion against the fog of hollowness lying thick in the air, or the laughter that fills a room is not just joy but the bitter sound of people trying to convince themselves that they are truly alive. It's the way single moments carry the weight of eternity echoing through daily life.

I understand too much and not enough at the same time. Everything is art and poetry, every single thing. It's beautiful, and interesting, but hard to convey. People get absorbed in the trivialities of life, unaware that absolutely everything is a clue to something deeper. And so I walk alone, a perpetual outsider in my own world, yet trying to make connections with others who might want to understand. This type of neurodivergence is not apparent, though sometimes I'm caught in long pauses as I try to pull out some words to express simple things. Other times, I get in a groove and can pull out long-worded ideas that even surprise me - though, don't ask me to remember them! It's taken me a long time to be unaffected by the judgements of others because of this - people explaining things to me like I'm a child, and I have to take it because they don't know, because I don't come across as knowing much. It's also taken me a long time to stop judging myself about it. My self-effacing behaviour can look like a target for some, trying to take advantage of my 'stupidity' - but, at this point in my life, after many interactions with many different people, I thrive in finally accepting that my abstractness is not actually stupidity... I observe people in their natural element, taking in their behaviours as clues to their intentions when they've let their guards down. I notice situations that would become too intense for me and so remove myself before I get involved. It's a curse and a gift I guess. 

You know who gets me at least? Animals. They get it, I assume, because they're not caught up in thoughts about anything either. And, meditation is super easy, every task is a meditative practice, as long as I don't let my mind wander into those obscure clouds of art always hanging around, so there's that. I've found my way in the world with this kind of abstract thinking, I'm less prone to wander on the details of the past or future. I don't get bored. I live in the moment, every moment. It's not entirely empty either, but filled with something else, a different kind of richness that is impossible to describe.