The Apple

Perception. What a topic. I’d quote the definition from my dictionary of philosophy, but it spans three columns, and I’d prefer to write something original.

I decided to write a piece on the topic as I spent significant time reflecting on the topic last night, having watched Chris Packham’s excellent programme ‘Inside our Autistic minds’. In the last episode, Chris was invited to join Dr Luke Beardon in a crowded marketplace. Just seeing that environment was somewhat overwhelming for me, and I can imagine how intense that must have been in person, owing to my multitude of experiences in very similar environments.

One thing that stuck with me was Dr Beardon’s comments that neurotypicals filter out the sensory noise, whereas Autistic people, such as myself, do not.

This fascinates me.

When I have sensory input, I have to define it to cope. It provides me control, safety and a means to self-regulate. When there is too much sensory input for me to define, I feel intense overwhelm, fear and panic – amongst an array of other stress responses.

But this is unusual - most people don’t experience reality like this, according to Dr Beardon.

Unusual things are always of particular interest to me by their very nature – they are unknown to me. So I like to think about them. To explore them. To define them.

When it comes to my sense-perception, I understand myself to form a cognitive definition of what I perceive, which enables me to categorise and consciously filter all the noise. This means I have to actively work to maintain any semblance of inner peace, which means that I am constantly working and, therefore, not at rest.

So far, I don’t think I’ve said anything particularly profound; I just find these ideas quite fun to play around with.

Where things become interesting is when it comes to the cyclical nature of sense-perception and definition, how one reinforces the other and creates a phenomenological feedback loop.

Take the humble apple. I know it’s called an apple because I have been shown an apple at the same time as hearing the word “apple”. Likewise, I have associated the word ‘apple’ with the apple. You could say that my mind, my knowledge and the object I perceive through my senses all exist in a relationship. 

So, when I take the plunge and reach into the world to touch the apple, I gain new data from which to understand it. Through my proprioception and sense of touch, I can form a mental understanding of the mass of the apple, the texture, and the hardness. Suddenly, I do not just understand this apple as a concept, visual object or word – it has taken on new qualities.

How about I smell the apple? Taste the apple? The object is becoming clearer now, better defined and has a certain substance to it. Taking a bite and noticing the slight difference in texture and density between the skin and the flesh of the apple enhances my perception of it, providing me with more information that defines the object in my mind.

In biting into it, I notice the difference between the tough skin of the apple and the fleshier parts within. The slightly granular texture contrasts with the tough, smooth texture of the skin. I taste the sweet but sharp flavours. I feel it change from chunks of apple to a mushy pulp as I chew. It loses its flavour rapidly as enzymes in my mouth break down the sugar and absorb it into my body. I feel a sense of satisfaction in having satiated my hunger—the spike in dopamine from the sugar. The apple is no longer an apple; it has transcended that. The apple is now a part of who I am, a part of the world that I understand with far more depth than I would by simply observing the form of an apple. What used to constitute the apple now constitutes me.

Through this iterative process of discovery, definition and absorption, I form a view of my world. By developing and cultivating the relationships between myself, my senses and the world, I develop an understanding that is personal. Intimate, even.

My need for sameness, order and definitions is rooted in my experiences of sensory overwhelm. By structuring my input, I can reduce my stress, improving my relationship with the world. However, there are limits to my abilities, and there will always be a point at which my system pales in comparison to the infinite depths of the world beyond my perception and comprehension.

A further element of this model is that I form emotional attachments to objects of definition. This might mean that the feelings I experience when I taste the apple can be re-experienced when I consider the apple. Likewise, specific thoughts carry emotions. By getting into a cognitive routine, I can activate feelings that calm me down and allow me to survive environments that would otherwise cause me immense distress.

There is a dark side to this, though, and it is core to my experiences of PTSD.

Associations with particular objects, sense-perceptions, memories and more can cause me to experience the same horrors of the past once more. This is extremely debilitating and can be considered a flashback. Unfortunately, due to the lack of a filter, it’s quite easy to ‘pick up’ new traumatic associations, and this leaves me prone to developing more traumatic responses and psychiatric symptoms.

I believe these strong associations are core to what it is to be Autistic and go some way in explaining our common characteristics. However, I also believe that we develop Autistic traits, such as the need for sameness, order and so on, as a means to manage the sensory overwhelm we face. Because everyone responds to trauma differently, we each have unique coping strategies we use. Over time, we can learn to use these survival strategies to our advantage rather than be oppressed by them, but it takes a supportive environment that respects our sensitivities.

Icons from Microsoft Word.