Do
you know that humans have the ability to imagine whatever they want in their
minds? And when I say ‘imagine’, I actually do mean imagine as in ‘visualise’
or ‘see’. For instance, if I asked a person to imagine a red star, they’ll be
able to see a red star in their head. If you’re not impressed with what I’m saying
or if you think it’s common knowledge, then I am envious of you. I’ve spent sixteen
years thinking my inability to visualise things was normal.
“When
I ask you to see a red star, what do you see in your head?” Would you believe
me if I said there are 5 answers besides ‘a red star’ for this question and that
all of them are correct?
Once
again, close your eyes and try to imagine a red star to the best of your ability.
Then, take a look at the image above and choose the number that best describes
what you were able to see. If you chose either 4, 5 or 6, then that means you
are a normal human being with a regular visual memory. If you see anything under
that, however, then you are unlucky (or lucky?) enough to be within the 2% of
the population who have a disorder called aphantasia. Simply put, the term aphantasia
describes a disorder where people are unable to voluntarily imagine things, be
it a red star or a close family member (involuntary visualisations, such as dreams
or visualisations occurring from certain medicines or drugs, can be experienced).
A normal human would be able to see what they’re thinking about most of the
time. However, people with aphantasia, no matter how hard they try or how relaxed
they are, cannot see what they’re thinking about.
Because
aphantasia is a rather new phenomenon, very few studies have been held on
it. That means we don’t really know a lot about the condition from a scientific
viewpoint, such as how it develops or if it can be treated. We know, at the very
least, thanks to cognitive tests and brain scans that aphantasia does in fact exist,
but we cannot go into details about the condition. Luckily, there are new
researches and studies planned out, as the disorder has gained popularity in recent
years. Regardless, the purpose of this post isn’t to talk facts about the condition
as much as it is to describe what having the condition is like. I’m mainly
going to be depending on my own experience with the condition and on the accounts
of people I’ve read about.
I
have aphantasia, and if I had to choose a number from the image, I’d choose 1. I
see absolute darkness. Nothing. Nil. One common misconception people get when I
say I have aphantasia is that they understand that I have no memory. This is
incorrect, however. If you ask me to think of a beach, I can do that. I know
what a beach looks like because it’s found in my memory. If you ask me to imagine
a beach, on the other hand, I’ll only end up thinking of it. My brain cannot translate
these thoughts into an image. I suppose that’s not a very clear way of explaining
it, but given the nature of the topic, I doubt any person with a visual memory would
be able to understand what I’m describing in this post. Another way you can put
it is by comparing it to drawing something with a laser pen or by writing with
white font on a white background. You draw/trace the object, but it’s just not there.
I
first realised I had aphantasia in June of 2019 when I questioned whether my
friend was actually seeing a banana in his mind when he thought of one. I kept
insisting that my friend was only pretending to be a fictitious superhero with
a photogenic memory, and he kept insisting that I was only pretending to be
stupid. We ended up including another person into the conversation, and he
sided with my friend.
I then spent the entire day asking around all my contacts,
and after the 20th person’s words matched with the others, I
realised people weren’t messing with me. I searched around the internet and came across
a condition called aphantasia, and its description seemed to match what I was
experiencing. It initially came out as a big shock for me, so I kept bombarding
my friends with various types of questions and hypotheticals. What they thought
of as a normal ability was considered a superpower by me.
After
the realisation
that I had aphantasia, I started finding it in every aspect of my life. I was
able to understand a lot of things that had me confused. I finally realised
that the phrase ‘imagine a…’ wasn’t a metaphor, but described something humans could
do. I finally realised that flashbacks and daydreaming are things humans could experience
outside the realm of fiction. I finally understood the meaning of the word ‘conjure’,
which I have always believed to mean ‘to think of something’ because I thought
no one could ‘call an image to mind’. I finally understood what people meant by
saying ‘reading books can let you imagine yourself as the character’, and why I’ve
always hated reading fiction. I finally understood why ‘imagine the audience in
their underwear’ wasn’t working to ease my nervousness. I finally understood how
people can count sheep until they fall asleep. I finally understood why meditation has never worked for me, and why I can’t
for the life of me imagine a sun setting at the beach. I finally understood
what the comic below meant.
The one thing that had me confused the most before my
realisation was how in TV dramas a person would very easily describe the
culprit to the police sketch artist. I
was absolutely baffled at how people could do this. You can ask me to describe how
my brother looks like and I would I have to think hard to remember all his
features. It never occurred to me that other people could imagine the culprit’s
face in their minds. I just thought they had super good memories, or that it
was just dramatisation.
While I’m on the topic of memory, I actually have a pretty
good long-term memory. You can give me a long sequence of numbers, and after a
couple of minutes, I would memorise and never forget the number again. In fact,
I still remember things like most of my 3rd-grade teachers’ names,
the poems we had to recite in 7th-grade Arabic class, and all of the
2000-word debate speech I memorised last year. It’s not a perfect memory per
se, as I’m not able to remember anything I see or hear, but if it’s something I
need to memorise, I can do it comparatively easier than most people. I like to
think that while my ability to imagine has been taken from me, I was given a
better memory in return.
I soon
discovered something else that shocked me- humans can not only visualise
images, but they can imagine all the other senses as well. To this day, I am
still reluctant on whether this is true or not, but after once again confirming
with every person I’ve known, I’m forced to take it as a fact. I can understand
visualising images, but how can you imagine a sound? Do people hear music in
their ears when they remember a certain song? If not, where do they hear it? Isn’t
it flat-out hallucination at this point? One of my friends described it as ‘knowing
what a sound is and just hitting the play button in your head’, and I have no
idea what that is even supposed to mean. The same question goes to imagining smells
and touch. I honestly cannot begin to fathom how someone can imagine the remaining
senses. If I could ever imagine sound, God knows I’ll be playing my favourite
songs on loop all the while.
Having
aphantasia comes with one benefit that makes me prefer having it over not. Thanks
to aphantasia, I’m pretty much immune to phycological torture. You ever see
something you really didn’t want to see and it’s just etched in your
memory? Wish I can relate. What has been seen cannot be unseen? Sorry, doesn’t work
that way for me. You can describe the most graphic thing you’ve seen while I’m
eating and I wouldn’t flinch. That doesn’t mean I don’t get grossed out, though.
If you show me a graphic image, I’ll probably look away, but I’m no longer
grossed out the moment the image is away from my sight. Aside from that, my aphantasia
has also been a unique conversation starter, and I can now finally respond when
someone asks for a fun fact about myself.
Not
all aphantasia is the same. When it comes to not being able to visualise images,
I mentioned earlier how it comes in degrees, as shown in the first image above.
Aside from that, some people are able to visualise images, but cannot imagine one
or more of the other senses. Others, like me, cannot imagine any of their
senses. Some people are born with aphantasia, and they spend their lives not
knowing about it. Others, such as an unnamed patient in a 2003 study from the
University of Exeter, claim they only developed aphantasia after experiencing brain
issues/diseases (the patient had suffered a minor stroke when he discovered he
was no longer able to visualise). Some claim that their inability to visualise
images has compensated in their superior ability to imagine other senses, such
as their ability to imagine sounds. It’s sort of like how the majority of blind
people have their other senses heightened in return.
In
a small-scale survey observing about 1000 people, 32.5% of people with aphantasia
claimed they have been diagnosed with depression before they realised they had aphantasia.
In addition, 28.5% claimed they’ve been diagnosed with anxiety disorder prior
to their realisation. These results do not prove anything, as the survey is way
too small to say the results are conclusive. However, it is interesting to consider
a relationship between aphantasia and depression or anxiety. Could it be that one
cause of depression is the inability to imagine?
If
you think about, aphantasia does not really negatively impact a person. For
one, it does not impair creativity. Some big creators, such as the co-creator
of Firefox and the ex-Pixar chief, have suffered from aphantasia, yet that hasn’t
harmed their ability to innovate. In the case of Pixar, aphantasia is very prevalent
among the staff, yet it hasn’t stopped Pixar from becoming such a successful studio.
Sure, it sucks that I don’t get to imagine my cat’s beautiful face whenever I
want to, but that’s manageable. That’s why I don’t really believe calling aphantasia
a disorder to be an accurate description. The very fact that myself and thousands
of others have lived with aphantasia without realising it is proof of that. Visualisers
depend on their visual memory that they can’t imagine (no pun intended) living without
it, and the reverse is true. As such, I don’t make a big deal of my aphantasia,
nor do I blame it on my inability to do certain things. Reality is much more
than images and sounds.
If you want to learn more about the experiences of
people with aphantasia, the link to the small-scale survey I mentioned earlier
is found here.
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