"Rabbit's clever," said Pooh thoughtfully.
"And he has Brain."
"I suppose," said Pooh, "that that's why he never understands anything."
(Excerpt from 'The House At Pooh Corner', by AA Milne)
Sometimes I wonder whether being intelligent and literate is a hindrance rather than an asset. There’s a joke in AA (that’s Alcoholics Anonymous, NOT the Automobile Association!) that the people with the most intelligence are actually the dumbest when it comes to trying to follow the 12 Step Programme. They tie themselves in knots complicating everything, when it’s really very simple. I have to concede to being one of them, though I now have the “excuse” of being autistic to explain why it took me so long to get it. Not to mention having been labouring under the illusion that I was just one of your average, non-autistic brand of alcoholics, whose main block to recovery was a big brain coupled with a massive ego.
It’s true, I do have these in abundance too. But I also have a ‘little something extra’ that makes a massive difference – I don’t understand the words. Unfortunately this problem is compounded by me believing that I do: which means it never occurs to me to ask for help. After all, if you already think you know why would you ask someone to explain it?
When I say that I don’t understand the words, this is where it gets a little tricky to define. You see, the fact is that I do understand the literal meaning of a vast number of individual words. I even understand the general meaning of a large number of words when they are strung together. I am capable of understanding certain nuances, and double entendres, and of employing such techniques within my own writing. I am not so literal that I cannot work out that being asked to take a seat means sit down, and not that I am being requested to pick up a chair and remove it to some other, unspecified, vicinity.
The problem, as I see it (and I could be seeing it all wrong – it has been known!), appears to be twofold. On the one hand, as an autistic, I seem to use words differently to the way that non-autistics do. For me the literal meaning of each word is retained when it is placed within the context of a sentence.
Yes, I am able to be figurative and metaphorical: but I sometimes struggle to recognise it in what other people write or say, or to work out whether what is being conveyed is meant to be taken at face value, or if there is some hidden meaning that requires a shovel in order to dig below the surface. And, I have to say, I’m not that great at digging. It tends to give me a headache, largely because I can become obsessed with it, but also due to my propensity for trying to dig in the wrong place – concrete, mainly. I can find deep, symbolic meaning where there is none, and nothing but surface where a great underground cavern full of riches waits to be unearthed. Give me a book to read which employs extended metaphor, and I’ll show you an autistic on the verge of having a brain haemorrhage!
But then add to that the added impediment of my not fully understanding the definition of some words at all, especially those which have more than one interpretation (which is a large proportion). I struggle to take on board more than one meaning, so will often only latch onto one part of a dictionary definition – and that’s if I even bother looking up a word. Having managed for forty-four years to acquire an understanding of the English language that has got me by, it’s rather difficult to accept the need to look up words that I assume I know the meaning of – much like being told you need to learn to walk again, when you’re already an adult and thought you were doing okay. I often find that even in conversations with my friend Dee we can end up talking at cross-purposes simply because we have a completely different take on a particular word, or words – only we don’t realise that we have.
I also hate having to stop reading in order to check the dictionary: it upsets my flow, especially as I read so fast, and I basically skim-read everything, probably on account of having ADHD, and being compulsive. It’s like I don’t actually want to digest the words (I haven’t got the time), I just want to gobble them up – the way I used to do with food, as a compulsive overeater/bulimic!
Disconcertingly for me, I am finding out that I understand less than I thought I did, and I am more literal than I ever imagined, despite my apparent mastery of the English language. I even looked up the word ‘literal’, just to be certain that I hadn’t misunderstood that too, and found that it describes perfectly what it is that I do: “inclined to use or understand words in a matter-of-fact sense.” Yep. That’s what I do. And even when I employ metaphor, I have to try to quell (frequently unsuccessfully) the overwhelming urge to explain what I mean by it because I imagine that everyone else is as literal as I am.
So then you string all of these words together to make sentences and, hey presto, you get total confusion (as if you weren’t confused enough already)! In the non-autistic world the fact is that individual words almost inevitably change their meaning the minute they are combined - sometimes subtly, sometimes blatantly, but undeniably clouding the issue even more. But that’s not the worst of it. Not only is their meaning altered, but there are numerous ways to interpret the whole – which confounds any ideas about simply learning this stuff by rote. At least not if you wish to have any kind of meaningful conversation with someone.
Of course, if you don’t want to you could always just mouth the words like a parrot, and hope that no-one ever asks you what you mean exactly when you say, “Pieces of eight, pieces of eight,” in a squawky voice, whilst standing on the shoulder of a one-legged man!
