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Little Girl Lost
Ever since I was a small child, I’ve had difficulty finding my way.
I don’t mean in spiritual, philosophical, or political matters. I think I’m pretty well grounded in all those things, and Lord knows, I have pretty firm beliefs about them too. I was lucky to be raised in a family of smart people with strong opinions, a healthy sense of right and wrong, and a commitment to raising its children to be civilized and caring adults.
Most importantly, I realize from my current vantage point, I was given a sense of perspective about my own place in the world and I was taught that it “I was not the one [the world] had been waiting for,” that it did not revolve around me, that the sun did not shine out of any of my bodily orifices, and that sometimes my own wants and needs would be subordinated to those of others whose wants and needs were greater than mine. Valuable life lessons, all. (The irony for all those marching in lockstep for the right to declare themselves each a “snowflake” unique from all the others sharing exactly the same opinions and doing exactly the same thing is that my family is full of individuals. We’re all different, we’re all a bit odd, and we all revel in the fact there’s no one else quite like us, anywhere.)
When I say I have always had trouble finding my way, I mean I have always had trouble finding my way.
I try to be honest and upfront about my shortcomings, when I’m with people who may be affected by them. I start out by saying, “You know, I have a really poor sense of direction.” And they generally respond with something like, “Oh, I do, too.” Or, perhaps they say, “I understand what that’s like, my mother was always getting lost.” And then they move on.
No. I doubt you really do understand what it’s like. I have a really poor sense of direction. My brain’s internal GPS doesn’t work. Although I don’t get lost in my own house, I’ve stayed with folks who have larger houses for several days or a week and, by the time I leave, I still can’t find my way from the bedroom to the dining room without a lot of preliminary thought, and perhaps a couple of wrong turns along the way. A week or so ago, I spent the night in a hotel whose front desk clerk kindly upgraded my room to a “superior suite.” Big mistake. I spent half the night trying to find my way to the bathroom and ending up in the walk-in closet every time. Not kidding.
I regularly get lost in the rather small indoor mall a few miles away from my house. I’ve only been shopping there for 32 years. It has a Sears at one end, a Rural King at the other, and a soon-to-be-closing BonTon in the middle. Up and down the “nave” are smaller shops, my favorites being JoAnn Fabrics and Marshalls. I have to plan my expeditions there every time, so I don’t get lost, and I usually photograph my car’s position in the parking lot so I can find it when I leave. Like most people of my ilk, I am obsessive about using the same entrance and exit every time and have been reduced almost to quivering Jello status when “my” regular parking spot is occupied. How dare someone!
I could go on, but perhaps you’re starting to get the idea.
If there’s an upside, I guess it’s that my aforementioned family raised me with a hefty dose of humor and a healthy sense of the ridiculous. I don’t really mind being lost most of the time. There are maps, there is Google, and there are external GPS’s that mitigate my fears, outdoors at least. I’m not afraid of new places, and I don’t mind exploring, at least when I’m somewhere whose language is somewhat familiar (any of the Romance Languages), or whose alphabet and street signs I can read.
I’m not quite sure what I’d do if I was dropped into the middle of Ulaanbaatar and left to my own devices. Yes. Yes, I am sure. I wouldn’t move far from the place where I landed, lest I never get back to it, and I’d just hope to have brought a good book with me. Not every address in the world can be rendered as the equivalent of 123 Main Street, Anytown USA 12345, and the possibilities for disaster and dragons would, pretty much, keep me frozen in place. Much as I might enjoy the experience (and I probably would), I very likely wouldn’t do much touring, absent a knowledgeable and kind local guide.
Although I came to terms with my directional limitations many years ago, I’ve never stopped trying to find out why they exist. For years, I wrote it off to just the standard, “exceptionally poor sense of direction” business. When I developed a minor, but annoying, inner-ear disorder that occasionally leads to balance problems, I speculated that perhaps my internal “gyroscope” was off because of it, and that that was why I had such difficulty finding my way. But I never really found a satisfactory explanation or one which was backed up by much scientific study or replicable results.
Enter Dr. Giuseppe Iaria, a neuroscientist at the University of Calgary with a longstanding interest in the study of human orientation, spatial, and directional skills.
About 12 years ago, Dr. Iaria met what we might call his “patient zero,” a woman of overwhelming ordinariness; one who was perfectly healthy both mentally and physically. She had no brain damage, no neurological conditions, and nothing “wrong,” anywhere.
What she had was the unerring ability to get lost, every day, inside her own home and everywhere else she tried to go.
And all at once, Dr. Iaria changed the focus of his research to something he named Developmental Topographical Disorientation, or DTD. The “developmental” part indicates that it’s a lifelong condition and that it’s not the result of neurological trauma or injury of some sort.
Over the past ten years, Dr. Iaria and his group have published many studies of this phenomenon, and his team has put up a website which brings together much of his research, provides a forum for people with the problem to share their experiences, and offers a battery of tests which a person can take — the results of which feed into his research, and some of the “takers” of which, his team follow up with and make part of the studies.
I’ve taken the tests. Based on one’s point of view, I suppose one might say that I either passed with flying colors or failed spectacularly.
Part of the formal diagnostic process (which I have not been through for this condition) is an MRI. MRIs for patients with suspected DTD usually show that the parts of the brain, especially the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex, do not act in sync as they do in a “normal” brain. Both these parts of the brain are important in orienting oneself to the environment, and current theory is that these “bad comms” between areas of the brain play a major role in the disorder. Dr. Arne Ekstrom, a cognitive neuroscientist at the University of California Davis, who also studies patients with DTD, thinks of it this way:
According to Ekstrom, his research, like Iaria’s, suggests that in patients with DTD, the problem with forming cognitive maps stems from a disconnection between the brain’s information highways. “If you want to try to get to New York and you have to transfer through the country but Chicago is shut down, it’s going to be much harder to get there,” he said. Patients with DTD may eventually find where they need to be, using other tools like GPS or finding landmarks they know, but it takes them significantly longer than someone with normal navigational skills.
There’s still much research to be done on this subject, and the search for a “cause” goes on. Current research centers on a genetic connection (I don’t see that in my family) and the studies continue.
In the meantime, I’m relieved to be part of another little Internet community, one that focuses not on politics or intellectual engagement, but which consists of folks with a bit of a problem reaching out to new friends and helping each other cope. There’s nothing wrong with finding out you’re not alone. I sort of like it. Perhaps one day, all those of us who participate in the online forum will decide to get together for an international meetup and shindig somewhere in the world.
The first challenge will be getting there. I can’t even.
Published in General
True story: Quite some years ago I blew the front seal out of a transmission while on a bad back road between Jerome and Williams Az (long story). As we coasted to a stop Mrs. OS said, “So now I guess we’ll have to wait for someone to come along?” This was pre cell phone era and there probably wouldn’t have been coverage anyway.
I said, “I doubt that anyone is going to come along today or maybe this week.” So she wanted to know what I would do about it. I had a car full of wife and kids and plenty of food and water, but still. So I gathered up some snacks and water bottles and said, “I’m pretty sure Williams is that way. I’ll go rent something to pull this rig into town. If I don’t get back by dark, set up the trailer and I’ll see you in the morning.” It was Saturday of course.
I walked about 14 miles before getting a ride into town. Whenever I passed a fork in the road, I’d stop a few times and look back to hopefully remember what the way looked like from that angle.
The Good Samaritan who picked me up took me to his house where we tried to find somewhere to rent something or whatever? Nothing available until Monday. So he said he had a good chain and offered to take me to get the rig and family. On the way there, after about the third turn, he said, “Just how far did you walk?” I said I wasn’t sure but told him about what time I’d left the family so it was pretty far as I walk pretty fast though I did stop to rest for a minute or two 3 or 4 times.
We pulled up to the rig at dusk. Mrs. OS was just about to start setting up the tent trailer so was very glad to see us.
Our GS pulled us into town and into an empty spot at a camping place in town, wouldn’t take a penny for it. He said to just pass it on, which I’ve tried to do a few times. I also found what I thought was the best restaurant in town and left a gift certificate in his mailbox.
I was glad I somehow thought to ‘look back’ at the turns and that I seem to have a pretty good sense of direction. Haven’t been back there since though.
Mrs. OS says the same thing, that not driving causes her not to notice the way to places we go. Could be so, or maybe she’s just less observant than me. But don’t you tell her I said that!
I have never in my life been lost. Never, ever. I have however had quite a few sudden changes of plans (see story above).
In Oklahoma people often say, turn south (north, east, west), go 2 miles, and so on. In Kentucky that method is unknown as there are almost no roads that go either north, south, east or west. Or if they do they don’t stay that way. They wander, eventually taking you somewhere, maybe where you wanted to go. But they never follow anything like a compass point for more than a quarter mile or so. Except for Interstates of course which I try to avoid when possible. So all directions are given in terms of the next city or hamlet down a given route: take Burkesville road to Silent Springs, then turn on….
That took a while to get used to though after listening to the directions and thanking them I usually just Google for directions and let the nice lady at Google tell me when and where to turn. If I don’t like her route, like if she wants me to take an Interstate, I just head off in a likely direction and ignore her until she gives up trying to get me to turn back. Then, with a big sigh, she usually lets me go the ‘wrong’ way. I’ve told her I didn’t retire to be in a hurry but she doesn’t listen very well.
I had and still have both problems–left and right and compass directions. I have no idea why.
I’ve got a pretty good sense of direction. And I’m terrible at following rules, when I’ve got any sort of ability to improvise. Ask anyone who’s et my cookin’.
I do think my sense of direction improved from practicing it. Probably won’t help She; if it is a neurological condition then just trying more won’t fix it. But if you want to try, plop yourself down in front of a Zelda game. Solving puzzles in a 3-D environment like that provides a series of natural exercises of your pathfinding skills. And you get to kill giant spiders so it isn’t boring.
Oh! I always thought it stood for Ditzy, Tad Deranged.
Congratulations on writing this, She. And bully for you that you not afraid to admit it.
My biggest problem is driving to places I’ve not been to a dozen or so times. I grew up on Staten Island, and still have friends there. When I used to live in another part of Jersey, and go back to visit my friends every now and then, I would regularly get lost on the highways I had to traverse to get there.
Today, when I go to another friend’s house, which is just a few towns away, I get there fine. But I always past her house. They gotta give me a break. I’ve only been there three times. I need more practice, ;-)
I’ll take that as a compliment, @aaronmiller, and thank you! It’s certainly not the worst thing that’s been said or implied about this Ricochet moderator over the past several months . . .
This is an absolutely fascinating discussion. My directional dyslexia has been a cause for mirth among my friends and family for as long as I can remember. Practically the first skill I learned was how to orient myself with a map and then to literally imagine myself traveling along the ink. This doesn’t work with missing roadsigns, high noon or cloudy weather unless I have a compass.
In contrast, my sister is unerring in her memory of where she’s been or ability to get where she needs to go. She never forgets a face, name, or phone number, and I suspect that has something to do with it. Her ability to “take a snapshot” and recall the topography of a face, written words or numbers jives with her uncanny ability to survey the geography and unerringly and efficiently find her way home.
When we meet in person for the fourth time, it is unlikely I will recognize you on sight. If you gave me a card when we first met, I will write a brief description of your unusual features and how tall you are in a vain attempt to place you at our next meeting. Being facebook friends helps, but if you don’t look exactly the same as your facebook photo, I will probably not recognize you at all until I can put together the pieces with your name and voice. Generally, the memory sets after 7 meetings unless you look too much like someone else.
Similarly, I need to drive someplace about 7 times before I can find my way without GPS talking me through it, and strangely, only a couple of times if I walk it.
Hope this explains my temporary blank look when first greeting friends at Ricochet Meetups, and why I usually arrive late.
Heh, heh. This could be fun at the next meet-up we’re both at.
Melissa and all her fellow suffereres are invited to the first DTD International Meetup. I can’t think of anything more fun than a meetup for all those who can’t find their way out of a paper bag, combined with a meetup for people who can’t figure out who anybody else is. Such fun!
That is really interesting. The brain really is an amazing organ, and I think we’re just scratching the surface at realizing just how amazing.
I also have a sister who is the polar opposite of me in this regard. Her name is Mandy, and my brother refers to her as “SatMand,” (as in SatNav, which is what the Brits commonly call their GPS), for her unerring ability at dead reckoning and never getting lost. My mother was also really good at it; my brother and dad not so much, but nothing like me. So I don’t think it’s “familial” in my case. But you never know.
Great discussion. Question: How much does simple geography enter into the equation?
I was kind of a disaster growing up in southern California with the winding freeways and endless back roads. I once ended up in the high desert outside Palm Springs and had no idea how I got there; another time I got so lost in Anaheim I gave up and spent the night in my car in the parking lot at Disneyland.
But when I moved to Kansas City, my inner compass got “righted” on the city’s simple squared grid and I suddenly was never lost again. North was always north and streets were straight. Having a river to navigate by helps as well. (All roads lead to the ole Missouri.)
My biggest issue continues to be one-way streets. For some reason, they mess with my head.
And the location doesn’t matter because no one will find it anyway! Great idea.
I do find it a bit easier to “navigate” in planned cities with square grids whose streets are logically named, as in “First Avenue,” “Second Avenue” etc.
But I put the word “navigate” in quotes, because I’m not really building a map in my head. I’m thinking–“Well, I’m on Fifth Avenue, so if I’m looking for First Avenue, it must be four blocks–err, one way or the other. Let’s go this way, is this the right way? Oops, of course it isn’t, because here I am now at Sixth Avenue, so turn around, and now I have to go five blocks . . . ” And so on. I don’t think that’s real navigation, but it does turn the whole thing into a sort of logic puzzle, which is easier than just aimlessly flailing around.
But then there are cities like Pittsburgh that have some squared grids, and then a couple of diagonals running right through the grid, and whose streets are sometimes named “Avenues” and sometimes named “Streets” with the same numeric designation. So you have Seventh Street and Seventh Avenue. Different locations, but sound like the same thing to me. Very confusing.
Argh.
If I try to ‘orient’ myself naturally, I am 180 degrees wrong – usually. That’s why I have trained myself to ‘orient’ myself using tools and clues external to myself. I am good at using the tools (maps, GPS and occasionally the sun) and use landmarks though I realize they are tricky.
I can get disoriented locally if I don’t drive past an area for 6 months or so because development around here is happening that quickly and the landmarks change. I will say to myself “I don’t remember that being there before” and the reason I don’t remember is that it wasn’t.
My problem is not paying attention to directions when riding with others, so I’m not prepared to navigate when I’m behind the wheel. It’s a good habit to always be thinking about directions and landmarks.
Yeah, I will start developing that habit… tomorrow.
I suspect the pervasiveness of GPS has impaired directional abilities.
South Pacific islanders were once able to find their way back to their tiny islands in all the vastness of the ocean. It’s similar to losing the ability to remember phone numbers thanks to having all your contacts stored in your cell phone .
This has been a very interesting discussion. My impression is that I have an unusually good sense of direction, so I hardly ever get lost. I find it very disconcerting when it occurs, which gives me a strong feeling of sympathy for those with DTD.
OK, I’ll bite.
The first thing that strikes me is that there could be an evolutionary explanation for this, from our presumed hunter-gatherer ancestry. It seems plausible that the males did far more hunting and exploring, being both larger, stronger, and generally more expendable.
The second thing that strikes me is that this might explain all of those jokes about men refusing to ask for directions. I always suspected that this stereotype, which is highly accurate in my experience, is because men don’t tend to feel lost quite yet.
You know, like the last time that I was in Philadelphia with my wife, trying to find the Liberty Bell. She kept wanting to stop and ask for directions, and I kept explaining that all of those Amish people wouldn’t know where it was, anyway.
Hilarious. I don’t think I have ever been that lost.