Missing Someone

When others talk about longing, it sounds like a foreign language to me. They speak of tears, of pain, of the feeling that someone is missing. For me, “missing someone” is actually… nothing. I’ve learned what it means, but I experience it differently - actually, not at all. The more I think about it, the clearer it becomes to me. It’s as if I have the concept, but not the experience that goes with it.

I live very much in the moment. The here and now has absolute presence for me; everything before that gradually fades away. Other people describe having spontaneous images in their minds - faces, places, situations. Not me. Even my children or my wife disappear from my imagination after a few days. I still know what they look like, but this knowledge is purely conceptual, like a description in a book. “Height, hair color, eye color, facial expression” - these are all variables, characteristics. Not images.

I can remember if I concentrate - but then no inner image comes to mind, just a fact. I know I have children. I know what they must look like. But I don’t see them in front of me. And the longer I don’t see them, the less I miss them. Sometimes, after a week, I wonder if I really have children or if I just dreamed it. Before I knew I had aphantasia, that was normal. Now I feel differently - and it sometimes makes me sad.

My wife is the opposite. She has a storm of images in her head, an inner screen that never goes dark. I see her world and sense that it would overwhelm me. When she describes how images don’t fade after a moment of shock (she is an emergency doctor), I’m almost relieved that I don’t experience that. It makes me feel at peace - and it reconciles me with my own way of thinking and feeling. I don’t have a storm of images, but a quiet expanse. The peace within it is my home.

What I sometimes miss is the feeling of closeness from afar. Many people draw strength from memories - from images of loved ones they hold in their minds. I can’t do that. I know about love, but I don’t “see” it. I want to be able to miss someone - just sit down and think of someone, without effort, without struggle. To feel less alone. To know, not rationally but emotionally, that there is someone who loves me and whom I love.

I’ve found strategies to maintain a sense of closeness. My wife sends me a new photo every day when she’s away for a while. These images are like an anchor for me. They bring a person, a moment, a reality into my day. Then I know: She’s there, somewhere, right now. Without images, I have no past - that’s why I take so many photos, why I love receiving them so much. Every photo is like a piece of memory that I would otherwise lose. They are the visible chapters of my life that help me remember. And for me, they are the most precious “possessions” I have.

Perhaps this is my own way of dealing with missing someone: not through images in my head, but through images in the world. I am free, like a kite (a bird), which I carry as a symbol. I enjoy what I can enjoy, and let happen what happens. I know when things begin to fade - faces, after four to five days, they’re gone. And yet I know how to hold onto them: in current photos, in moments, in words. This creates a different form of memory for me - concrete, visible, conscious.

I miss things differently. Or perhaps not at all. But I have learned what closeness means to me. It is not in the mind, but in the experience. And therein lies reconciliation as well. I know what I am missing - and I have found ways to keep it in my world. So for me, missing someone is not a loss, but a realization: that connection can take many forms, and that mine is one of them. How is about you?

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Justin Clark•recently•edited

Really appreciate your post. lots to process there - and most are similar experiences for me. rather sad really but tis what tis as they say. Sorry for asking this but may I ask you - do you fear death, out of interest? I don't whatsoever and I suspect aphantasia has (everything?) to do with this. I have experienced loss but very differently to my best friend... we both lost the same good friend but the grieving process for me was "completed" very quickly... It's one of the reasons why I am happy with discovering aphantasia... explains much. For years I have been feeling heartless for not expressing the same levels of emotion... It really made me question what sort of a human am I etc... Random thought sorry, lots to process with all this isn't there. Thanks again for your thoughts.

Neal White•recently•edited

Thanks for posting such a personal, thoughtful message. I have extreme aphantasia and often don't recognize my inner emotions or the emotion of others. However, I do experience loss quite deeply and it persists for years, especially the passing of a beloved pet or a close friend.

Missing Someone – Or Not