Category Archives: Executive Function

Chronoception

Chronoception

chronoception: the sense and perception of time.

Time perception is one of those things that’s so taken for granted, it’s really difficult to actually explain or talk about. Time doesn’t seem like something we perceive or interpret, it’s just seems like something that is. But of course it is something we interpret, because we interpret everything, because that’s what it means to be a brain living inside a meatbag.

Chronoception is also strange because no-one can really agree on whether it’s a neurological sense – along the lines of sensing temperature and balance – or something more psychological.

Time problems

I’ve always known I had a weird ‘Thing’ about time. The first example I usually think of is that I always find it really stressful and anxiety-inducing to know that I have a fixed period of time ahead of me, like “I’ll be in school for six hours from 9 until 3”. I’ve never been able to properly express why it’s so stressful. It’s not simply that I didn’t want to be in school, or that I didn’t want to be there for so many hours – it’s something inherent about a fixed time period, regardless of what or how long.

I’m similarly stressed by things like, knowing that I need to leave the house at a certain time to catch a bus. When that’s the case, I veer between being over-prepared and ready unnecessarily early, and ignoring the time limit (as a way of avoiding the anxiety) and ending up rushed or surprised. Often I go between those extremes more than once in a single period of preparation.

I’m not very good at keeping track of dates in the future. I’ve always had a tendency to anticipate things a really long way in advance. But I also quite often find myself surprised when a certain date arrives even though I knew about it.

Just recently I’ve come to the conclusion that all of these ‘weird time things’ I  have actually do all relate to each other, even though they seem very different at first glance. They relate to each other because they all arise from the fact that I have very poor chronoception. I’m bad at sensing time.

Outsourcing

It sounds weird to say, because like I said above – time doesn’t feel like something that you sense. Time just happens, and I know that. There’s a certain number of minutes in an hour, hours in a day, days in a year, and so on. I know all of that, rationally. But I know it in the same way that I know the earth is rotating. I know it, but I don’t feel it. And so, in the same way as a scientist keeping track of the earth’s rotation through calculations and measurement, I have to outsource my sense of time in order to understand it.

That outsourcing is mostly in the form of checking clocks and calendars a lot. I carefully plan times and dates and always try to get an objective estimate of how long something will take or last. Because of all that, I probably seem like I’m good at time perception. But it’s all just overcompensation, like someone who acts arrogant because they lack self-confidence.

In fact most of the time now, I try to arrange my life so that there’s little need for that compensation at all. These days most of my time is pretty unstructured. I avoid commitments that have a set time or deadline, because commitments like that require me to put a lot of effort into keeping track of the time manually and trying to understand it. If I don’t bother with that, then sure I do lose track of time sometimes and forget to go to bed or don’t notice that I haven’t moved in hours – but at least I’m not under constant stress .

Explanations

My lack of chronoception neatly explains all of my weird time problems. I’m stressed by things like fixed time periods and deadlines because I know they’re important and meaningful, but I don’t have an instinctive sense of what they mean. So I have to put lots of effort into consciously trying to understand and keep track of something that’s inherently totally abstract and confusing to me.

I unpredictably veer between being under- and over-prepared because I don’t have any natural ability to judge the ‘correct’ rate to do things. Where someone else might easily be able to think “I have half an hour to get ready, so I know what things I have time for and how quickly I need to try to do them”, I just have to guess and hope for the best, and constantly check how I’m doing to try and adapt as I go.

I can’t keep track of dates in the future because everything in the future is just in one big amorphous ‘some time other than now’ category in my brain. An appointment next week, and my birthday next year, both pretty much live in that category together. So although I can intellectually know which will come first by thinking about dates and years and numbers, it always feels like something of a surprise when any given date actually arrives.

This also explains why I intermittently come across as either very patient or very impatient. If I want something to happen, then I want it to happen now, because now is the only thing that really means anything to me. But if something isn’t happening now, then I usually don’t care much when it is happening – because next week and next month and next year all feel more or less the same.

My systems of overcompensation paradoxically mean I’m generally really good at meeting deadlines. I talked to my brother who does seem to have a decent sense of chronoception about how he handles deadlines and he said “I just work at a fairly steady rate until the deadline”. Because somehow he has the ability to know what rate he needs to work at in order to correctly meet the deadline?! I don’t have that, but I do still have a strong feeling that deadlines are important and missing them is bad.

So my solution is to pretty much always do things as soon as possible and as quickly as I reasonably can. I work on a university assignment at the same rate, whether the deadline is tomorrow or next month. I never have to try to make decisions about how quickly to work or when to do something, because I just have one setting – ‘now’. As with many things, that system has its pros and cons. The upside is that I pretty much never miss deadlines. The downside is that I sometimes cause myself stress even over things which don’t have deadlines (or which have very distance ones), because I still have the feeling of ‘must do it now’, even if I actually don’t need to do it for months.

Realisation

Chronoception is now another in my very long list of things that made me go “…you mean everyone isn’t like that?”. There’s been some little pieces of research into the link between autism and time perception, but it doesn’t appear to be something many people are interested in. Anecdotally I know quite a few autistic people who have similar chronoception problems to me. It feels like an autistic thing, because it’s to do with processing and instincts and all those subtle things that are different for us.

It’s also on my long list of things that I don’t (yet) have any solutions for. But it’s always interesting to have a new word and a new concept to apply to my experiences.

Advertisements

Inertia

Inertia

inertia: a property of matter by which it continues in its existing state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line, unless that state is changed by an external force.

Autistic inertia is common but little-known and poorly understood. It lies somewhere on the borderline between catatonia and executive dysfunction.

Inertia doesn’t mean laziness, or not wanting to do things, or procrastinating – although it can look like all of those things. But sometimes it also looks like mania, obsessiveness, or even a burst of motivation. Because inertia just means difficulty changing state, and that original state can be anything. The simplest explanation for how inertia looks and feels: sometimes an autistic person ends up doing something they don’t want to be doing, or not doing something they do want to be doing.

Causes

There are a lot of different possible causes and contributing factors for inertia, and they can be different for everyone.  Part of what makes it difficult to understand or explain is that there can be endless possible causes, which can all lead to apparently the same result. I’ve been thinking carefully about this for a while, and I’ve come up with a list of the most common causes for me.

Energy levels. This is the most catatonia-like one. It’s hard for me to switch from low-energy to high-energy activities, or vice versa. This is part of what’s happening when I’m sitting at home and I need to get up and go out. My brain is stuck in low-energy mode and I can’t properly imagine or work out how to switch into high-energy mode. It’s also what happens when I start doing something like tidying up my room, and I end up spending hours frantically cleaning and organising things. In that situation, I’m stuck in high-energy and it’s easier for me to switch to a brand new high-energy activity, than switch to low-energy mode and take a break.

Time anxiety. I have trouble describing this, but it’s a really big thing for me. I think I have trouble with medium-term time perception. I can abstractly imagine periods like months or years, and I can instinctively understand very short times like minutes or seconds. But in-between lengths of time like hours or days are difficult for me to get my head around. So if I need to start an activity that is going to last for a medium-term amount of time, I can’t properly imagine how long that is. Which makes me really anxious and confused, and so I can’t start the activity because I can’t imagine it.

Decisions. This is probably the most obvious executive function-related cause. Sometimes it’s just really difficult for me to make a decision. Especially if the choices are arbitrary, or uncertain, or I feel like I’m missing information, or any number of other things. One obvious example of this is when I have a chore to do which has an unspecified time limit. For example, I know that I need to wash some laundry at “some point today”. But because it’s not specific enough, and there’s no other way to make the decision, I end up not doing it at all. I can be thinking “I need to wash laundry today”, and sitting around doing nothing, but it’s still difficult to actually make myself do it even with nothing else in the way.

Memory. Another definite executive function thing. My working memory is disproportionately weak, considering my long-term memory and general abilities. If there’s nothing to prompt or remind me about a task, I will often completely forget about it. This can even happen with things that I really want or need to do. It’s not that I deliberately ignore it or pretend not to think about, so that I can avoid doing something. It’s just that it genuinely doesn’t cross my mind unless there’s some kind of external cue.

Hindrances

The simplest and most obvious thing that affects my susceptibility to inertia is general stress. Stress from overload, anxiety, tiredness, or any of the millions of things that can bother me. When I’m stressed for any reason, I’m more likely to have trouble with all of the contributing factors to inertia. Executive function and memory gets harder because I have less cognitive resources to spare, it’s harder to handle any additional anxiety because I’m already anxious, it’s more difficult to override my instinctive energy level sticking when I’m busy stressing about other things.

Having other people around can also sometimes make things worse. I’ve written before about how other people overwrite my edges very easily. When I need help to get something done, that’s great. But when I need to do something a specific way, that’s a problem. If I want to do some university work on the dining room table, and someone else is tidying up – I can get ‘stuck’. Instead of my own energy level getting stuck, the other person’s energy level gets in my way. I have trouble doing a low-energy activity like sitting and working, if there is someone doing high-energy things around me.

Workarounds

I don’t have any easy solutions (sorry, if that’s what you were hoping for). The first step is to accept that inertia is a thing that happens and can’t be completely solved or taken away. But there are two main things that help stop me getting stuck, or get me un-stuck if it happens: prompts, and planning.

Prompts. This one can help with all the causes to varying extents, but most significantly problems with memory. I leave reminders for myself when there’s something I need or want to do. I write lists of things I like doing, to check on when I’m bored. I conscientiously keep a to-do list for even minor tasks. I am in the routine of automatically looking at the calendar when I go into the kitchen. All of these help me dodge around the fact that my brain isn’t very good at remembering things by itself.
Other people can be very valuable prompts, too. They can remind me of things, and can be very helpful when I’m stuck on a decision. If a decision is completely arbitrary, then often the easiest solution is to just get another person to make it for me. It’s not mentally taxing for them, and it makes whatever I’m doing much easier.

Planning. This is really important to help with making decisions, and also the mysterious ‘time anxiety’. When I need to make a decision, I work through it as systematically as possible. I break things down into small parts and logically figure out the pros and cons and the best solution. Doing that helps me avoid the fact that I’m not very good at: a) knowing what I want, or b) instinctive or common-sense decisions.
Planning helps with time anxiety by breaking things down into small enough parts for me to imagine. If I’m going to be spending five hours at a family gathering, I get as much information as I can about exactly what will be happening. That allows me to imagine things in smaller parts, like “half an hour in the lobby with drinks”, and “the speech will last ten minutes”.

Recognising

Inertia is a weird and subtle thing. It was yet another trait that I didn’t initially realise that I had. But realising and accepting that I do experience it has helped me deal with it. It’s never going to go away, and I probably wouldn’t want to – sometimes it’s handy to accidentally spend all day cleaning! But at least I can now understand what’s happening when I don’t seem to be doing what I want to be doing.

Asking for help

When I saw people talk about having trouble asking for help or accommodations, I wasn’t really sure what it meant. I assumed I was good at asking for help. I can be assertive, I can clearly and explicitly state my needs, I can follow rules and instructions to do exactly what I need to in order to get help. It all sounds pretty simple.

But I’ve recently realised it’s actually not that simple. Asking for help has a lot more steps than just “Use words to tell a person what I want them to do”.

  • Recognise that I’m having difficulty with something.
  • Recognise that the difficulty can be solved or improved by a specific thing.
  • Recognise that another person could provide that specific thing.
  • Decide which specific person can provide the thing.
  • Decide how and when to ask the specific person.
  • Actually ask the person.

It turns out I might be good at the very last one, but every step before that is difficult. I’m going to use the fictional example of being in a hot classroom to illustrate the steps.

  • Recognise that I’m having difficulty with something

This is hard because I’m never sure how to define ‘difficulty’. How hard or unpleasant does something have to be before I can consider it difficult? How much worse does it have to be for me compared to other people for me to justify asking for help?

There’s also the fact that I sometimes literally don’t notice that something is difficult or unpleasant. It was only in fairly recent years that I realised loud and busy situations are inherently stressful to me. Before that I would be inexplicably miserable and exhausted, and with no idea why or what to do about it.

In my example, this stage would be recognising that I feel too hot and it’s making me uncomfortable.

  • Recognise that the difficulty can be solved or improved by a specific thing

This part is difficult because it requires going from an overall feeling of “something is wrong”, to a specific idea about what can be changed and how. It also needs me to imagine how a certain thing would change the situation in order to work out whether it’s a suitable solution.

In my example, this stage would be to recognise that I’d feel better if the room was cooler. It also means discounting impractical or impossible things which would solve the same problem: leaving the classroom would get me out of the heat but should only be a last resort; I could change into cooler clothes but don’t have any with me; etc.

  • Recognise that another person could provide that specific thing

This means figuring out which aspects of a situation can be controlled by people and which can’t. It can be difficult because when I’m stressed it’s hard to separate out different aspects of a situation to define them.

In my example, the weather: can’t be controlled. The air conditioning: can be controlled. So another person could change the temperature of the room by turning on the air conditioning.

  • Decide which specific person can provide the thing

This needs me to work out who is the best person to ask for help. Who is the mostly likely to understand my request, who has the power to do the thing that I need, who will want to help me, etc. This is hard because I have trouble working out how people will respond and who is the best person to ask.

In my example, I might have to decide whether to ask the teacher or the teaching assistant. The teacher probably has more authority, but the teaching assistant might be more friendly or approachable, for example.

  • Decide how and when to ask the specific person

I have to figure out how to ask for what I want in a way that expresses my difficulty and also gives clear information about what would help. I have to decide the right time, place, and situation to ask someone, and exactly how to approach them and initiate the interaction. I have trouble interacting with people at the best of times, and when I’m already stressed it’s much harder to know what to do.

In the example I’d had to decide when was a good time to ask the teacher to turn on the air conditioning. I should wait until they’re not addressing the class, but I should also try to get their attention early on in the lesson so that I’m not suffering for too long. I have to know how to get their attention and ask them without overstepping my boundaries as a student or seeming like I’m demanding rather than requesting.

  • Actually ask the person

This is the bit I can usually do, once I’ve worked out everything else!

In practise

Last weekend involved a short but very busy trip – meals out, socialising, and all without any real gaps in between. I was miserable and exhausted by the end, even though it was a happy occasion.

And I failed horribly at asking for help. I just tried to put up with being overloaded, because I didn’t think I had a choice, or didn’t realise anything could be changed, or that anyone else might be able to improve the situation. So, this is my formal challenge to myself to try and get better at it. Next time I recognise that I’m having trouble, I will work on the steps after that so that I can try to improve the situation.

 

 

 

 

“I don’t have a preference”

“I don’t know”, “I’m indifferent”, “I don’t mind”. I say these things a lot. Sometimes it irritates people, because they think I’m holding back my opinion for some reason. But when I say things like this (well, when I say anything!) I really mean it.

I have quite strong opinions about some things. Even some things which people think are weird or silly, or things people think are too big and complicated to have a simple opinion about. Put it down to ‘black-and-white thinking’.

Because of this, I’m also really good at knowing when I have an opinion and when I don’t. I don’t really have to pause and think about something carefully before working out whether I have an opinion. I might have to think for a while to work out what my opinion is – especially if I have to make a decision. But otherwise, I can answer very quickly when my answer is “I don’t know” or “I don’t care”.

It’s as if my ability to have an opinion or preference about something is digital – whereas for most people it’s analogue.

I don't have a preference 1

 

The red line is me, and the blue line is most other people. I go from “not caring at all”, to “caring completely” in one big jump. Whereas most people have a gradual progression from “not caring at all”, to “caring a little bit”, “caring a fair amount”, and so on.

This graph explains why there are some things I don’t care about at all, which most people do care about a reasonable amount. And also why there are some things that people think I care too much about. And it explains why it’s very easy for me to work out whether or not I have an opinion on something. Which side of the line does it fall on? Whereas other people have to decide what level of opinion is worth expressing or worth doing something about – halfway up? A quarter? Three quarters? It must be a nightmare!

Of course it’s sometimes annoying to have a digital experience of opinions and preferences, too. Sometimes people ask what I’d prefer and I say that I don’t mind and they just refuse to believe me. “You must have some preference!”, “Even just a little bit?”, “It’s OK for you to choose what you want!”.

Sometimes not having a preference makes decisions a lot harder – maybe this is why it takes me a long time to make decisions in the first place? It would be a lot easier to decide how to do things if I had some kind of emotional response to the options. That’s probably part of the reason that I rely on habit and routine, too. It’s a lot easier than contorting my digital thinking to try and formulate an opinion about something minor.

And then there’s all the things on the other side of the line – the “caring too much” side. Because I often don’t express an opinion, it sometimes surprises people when I do. And they think I’m exaggerating or joking or being silly for caring so much about something.

It seems like the ‘conclusion’ for this is going to be much the same as usual: communication and acceptance will improve anything! If people understand and believe me when I say that I do or don’t care, then… everything would be fine, I guess.

Generalising

For a person that’s supposed to be really smart, I sometimes seem to miss the exceedingly obvious.

I am usually surprised by the twist at the end of a children’s film. I never realised that an episode with two separate storylines is supposed to draw attention to the parallels between them. When I learn a new technique in a video game, I often fail to identify future situations which require the same technique – even though I probably learnt it very quickly in the first place.

I guess I have problems with generalising. This often looks like problems with learning in the first place, but it’s very different. I’m a fast learner, and it usually only takes me one ‘try’ to get something into my memory. My difficulty comes in recognising future situations where that new knowledge is relevant or useful.

My brother and cousin found it hilarious when I played the game Antichamber. Every time the game demonstrated a new technique, I would learn it quickly. And then completely fail to use it in the challenge that came immediately afterwards. They’d ask “Don’t you remember that thing you just learnt to do using eight blocks?!”, and I’d answer “Yes, I remember! But there are ten blocks here, so obviously I don’t need to use it now.”

During the climax of every children’s film I ever watch, I am convinced that the main character is about to fail. If you stopped at that point and asked me suggest how the story would be resolved, it would take a lot of concentrated effort for me to make a guess. Never mind that every other children’s film in existence has the protagonist succeed with a ‘happy ever after’.

In fact, it’s difficult for me to even identify the ‘climax’ or ‘build-up’ or ‘resolution’ of a story of any kind. I learnt about the basic story arc in primary school when we were taught how to write our own stories. But it’s very hard for me to actually apply that information to other experiences. Even now, I can do it – but it doesn’t come instinctively. Unless I am actively prompted or reminded to try and consider a story in that way, I am unlikely to do it.

Maths is my absolute favourite – and strongest – subject. But I’d often have trouble with the mixed tests that came at the end of a chapter. Suddenly I was no longer doing exactly the same process with different sets of numbers. Now I was expected to look at a question and somehow figure out which processes needed to be done. I have frequently had to ask a teacher for help on a question only to be told something along the lines of “Just use Pythagoras’ theorem… you learnt about that years ago.” And of course it’s obvious when they point it out. But if the question was in a chapter that made no mention of Pythagoras, then my brain simply would not make the link to tell me what information was relevant.

This is also why I often forget things which should be easy to remember.  “Don’t forget to empty the dishwasher tomorrow”, and I nod and agree as mum tells me it when I’m going to bed. Then the next day, the knowledge is just gone. If someone asked me “What did your mum ask you do last night when you were going to bed?”, I would remember immediately. But of course no-one does ask me that, so the information never gets recalled. I can walk past the dishwasher overflowing with plates and still not process the fact that I have an important piece of information about that.

And this is why lists, notes, and reminders are what keep me on track. Without external help to recall and use the right information in the right situations, I would never get anything done.