opographical disorientation, spatial problems, directionally
challenged … whatever you want to call it, these words can
describe me. Being aware of one’s own space in the world
and understanding the relationship of objects to me and each
other is a complex process and one my mind has trouble with. It
always has been difficult too. When I was a little kid, I realized
pretty quickly that I had a poor sense of direction. I noticed that
most people seemed to go places with a sense of purpose. They
would walk as if they knew exactly where they were going. I
couldn’t figure out how they were doing it.
When I walked around, I had a hard time locating an intended
destination. My mind wouldn’t organize spaces so that I could
move from one point to
another. I’d get lost in the
grocery store or in school
hallways. The trend barely
improved over time. Today, as an adult, I use GPS
devices to drive almost everywhere, and I still have
to call friends, tell them I’m
lost, and ask for directions
home.
BY M. KELTER
48
ZOOM Autism through Many Lenses
Photo by Conner Cummings
My sense of direction
became even more of a
factor recently when, for
family reasons, I traveled
to Spain and the city of Seville. Seville is known for
its exuberant atmosphere,
flamenco dancing, bullfighting and Christopher Columbus’ tomb. It is ancient, sprawling,
a dense network of haphazardly arranged streets. It took less than
a few hours for me to get lost.
The experience – not knowing where you are in Seville – is like
getting lost in a dream, especially at night, drifting by people and
stone, steeped in the verbal footfall of echoing voices, restaurants
folded into impossibly small spaces, yet expelling into the passageways, a wave of sensory clatter: meal-scents, more voices and
the ceaseless clinking of glass.
I got lost for a bit but eventually made it back. Here is the journal
entry I wrote the next day; it’s a kind of overview of how my mind
processes direction.
ZOOM Autism through Many Lenses
49