Friday, December 14, 2007

Memory, all Alone in the Moonlight

About nine months ago I started noticing a pattern in my son's imaginary play scenarios. Besides the fact that such scenarios were few and far between, I noticed that when I tried to engage with him we frequently began experiencing an odd disconnect. Consider the following conversation, which I noted in my journal at the time:
He: (playing with cars) Ahhh! They just crashed into a wall!
Me: (from nearby) Oh no! Is everyone okay?
He: (puzzled) Why?
Me: Because they just crashed into a wall.
He: (still puzzled) What wall?

Or, the time we were playing on a playground shaped like a train:

He: (from his bench on the train) Yikes! The train is turning to ice!
Me: (from my bench) Ah, so that's why my seat was getting cold!
He: Why?
Me: Because the train is turning to ice.
He: What ice?

(Note: the train/ice is a reference to the animated Anastasia movie, in which the train cars become "frozen" together. Many of his play scenarios relate to something he has read or seen.)

What struck me as bizarre about these conversations is not so much the failure to reference back to what we were talking about, but that in both cases it was something that HE had originally brought into the scenario that he failed to recall.

Nine months later, I still have no explanation for why such disconnect occurs. I typically find that my son cannot recall at bedtime what we did during the day, yet he can remember hiding behind a specific bush at a park the year before. I'm learning that it has something to do with the way children with autism process a memory. Unless the memory has a very strong personal emotion tied to it, chances are it will be lost.

It seems to me it would be a very lonely world to have to live in. I know my son is often quite frustrated with me, sometimes to the point of major meltdown, when I am unable to follow the leaps his mind has to make. I frequently have to fight irritation when he cannot recall something he was instructed to do only moments before or, two minutes after the incident, literally having no idea why it is that he is being disciplined. (Discipline, by the way, has completely taken on a new meaning around here. But I'll save that for a different day!) Is it any wonder he is so often driven to angry tears at what must seem to be completely irrational responses on our part?

Nine months later and we're still in the dark.


1 comment:

Ryan said...

Sarah, using a journal to track your discoveries and puzzlements is a great idea. I imagine it helps with seeing patterns and the entries probably become the focus of some of your prayer time. As I reflected on it tonight, I thought jotting down thoughts like this from time to time could be helpful for all parents.