Making Sense of Monotropism

'Tropism' means leaning toward or away from a stimulus. You might understand the term by picturing a flower. A plant displays multiple forms of tropism: its face turning ever toward the sun, it's roots extending ever in the opposite direction.

'Mono', of course, means one. Thus monotropism, at its most literal, means "leaning toward or away from a single stimulus". It is the opposite of polytropism.

The terms have been used by social scientists to describe various phenomena, from childhood attachment styles to patterns of interest distribution. Dinah Murray, Mike Lesser, and Wendy Lawson have posited that people exist on a contiuum from monotropic to polytropic. According to Murray et all, monotropic people have only a few intense interests (depth), and are attention-tunneled; polytropic people have interests that are broader, but not so intense (breadth). You can think of monotropic people as having an energy that's laser, as opposed to incadescent.

Note: Monotropism is a theory, not a DSM label. I am putting my own spin on the term 'monotropic', but linking to the work of the above researchers here.

I was tutoring once when an alarm sounded and two people dressed like storm troopers burst into the room. They said the building was being evacuated. My attention shifted enough for me to get up from my seat and walk downstairs. My mind never fully shifted away what I was obsessing over, though, and my emotions failed to shift at all.

Monotropism involves task or set shifting problems. Usually it involves multi-tasking problems as well. Part of putting my own spin on monotropism is claiming the term, even though unlike the vast majority of those who do so, I can multitask well. I shift some of my attention, but only a portion of of it. There is a profound failure to shift emotional energy -- a failure to be 'in the moment' even to the degree necessary to experience normal levels of fear in some situations that would seem to merit it.

If I hadn't been a bright child, with a strong multitasking ability, folks would have figured out very early that there was something seriously wrong. One dubious ability that emerged by six or so: the ability to hold a single thought in my head for months or years at a stretch -- I mean, in a nearly unbroken minute-by-minute way.

For me personally (though not for everyone who identifies with the term), the set-shifting problems are most pronounced in areas that have an emotional component. I would include music in this category. I sometimes go a month without changing the CD in my CD player. (I figure if a song was good once, it'll be simply marvelous 30 times in a row.) I don't like going to movies, but given a choice, I'm apt to go to the same one over again rather than see a new one.

I'm not into parties -- unless there's someone there that I'm deeply attached to. Then I tend to lock onto that person, deriving more stimulation from the sound of their breath than all the myriad other people around. It's not a matter of seeking safety. No, in fact I seldom experience fear outside the context of attachment. I'm no more afraid of new people than I am of new movies, but I do depend on my laser-light single-focus intensity to induce 'flow time'. When there isn't some one thing or one person to lock my mind onto, I get bored. At times like that, I get the impulse to indulge in those repetitive behaviors known as self-stimming. I still lapse into hand-wringing sometimes, though I try not to.

I think it's hard for people to understand that those behaviors are sometimes a sign of understimulation, as opposed to overstimulation. What looks like harm-avoidant behavior can actually be reward-seeking behavior -- in a person with a miswired reward system, a person who may not experience novel stimuli normally at the neurochemical level. I can while hours away locked in some repetitive behavior that looks bizarre as well as meaningless; I can just as easily while those away in very purposeful behavior. Both induce flow time. I may not have a full scientific explanation for it, but I believe that at the neurochemical level, there is some connection between momentum and pleasure.

Monotropism and bipolar disorder are both characterized by startling extremes when it comes to motivation level. A person may display intense, truly tireless energy or they may display a profound apathy. In a monotropic person, though, it's not a mood issue. The monotropic person is tremendously motivated when it comes their own particular passions, and unmotivated outside of them.

We've all read about people with singleminded drive who are accomplished in some one area, but fail to behave normally in other areas of life. Trying to explain to a monotropic person that things like eating or getting dressed in the morning have value in themselves, and are not just a means to achieving some particular cause or obsession -- well, that can be difficult. The person may understand at an intellectual level, but at an emotional or experiential level, they just don't get it.

The monotropic person can be that paradoxical person who appears to need fewer demands, yet actually craves -- indeed needs -- more. Being monotropic means you tend to keep your eggs in one basket, and you fall hard. However, it's not a classic depression, and it's not necessarily comfort that is craved. I know there have been times in my life when people have figured that I must lack either competence or confidence. My sense of my own competence is actually quite high, as I know that whatever I give my heart to I'll see in front of me at every moment, even when the storm troopers enter.

These are issues I've written about, using a variety of metaphors, in my personal blog:

"Being monotropic... it's as if you got born with a giant power cord growing out of your back. Plugged into an outlet -- a suitable obsession -- your energy is high and the level of drive and dedication can seem surreal. Unplugged... well, appliances just don't work so well unplugged. Being monotropic can mean there are times when you're growing up that people see you lying there immobile, and imagine you need a knight-in-shining-armor. But it can be hard to be a knight-in-shining-armor to a person who runs on obsession the way an appliance runs on electricity. (It's a little like hoisting a toaster oven up onto a white horse and expecting it to start doing something."

Autism-associated repetitive behavior can look a little like obsessive compulsive disorder -- the two are distinguished by their motivation. OCD is considered an anxiety disorder; part of the DSM definition of an OCD compulsion is that it causes no pleasure other than "relief from unbearable anxiety". Autism-associated behaviors, on the other hand, can occur for multiple reasons and may generate intense pleasure.

The literature speaks of people experiencing fascination from seemingly dull things -- of their being pulled into vortexes or black holes of fascination. Whereas OCD is about harm avoidance, monotropism can be about reward-seeking. The person with OCD polishes a floor endlessly because they're fearful of uncleanliness. The person with a monotropic or autistic temperament may polish the floor endlessly because the task is just so stimulating and they can't tear themselves away.

Monotropism is associated most strongly with one particular autism symptom cluster: repetitive and restricted behavior. There are several genetic disorders that can cause isolated monotropic and autistic symptoms without necessarily making a person fit the profile of autism. Among the disorders are Fragile X Syndrome and Williams Syndrome. Females -- specifically females -- with Fragile X Syndrome are known for a tenacity that goes beyond that of the normal population. They tend to plow through whatever life puts in their way. As for Williams Syndrome, there's monotropism, but it's in some ways less consuming than with classic autism. The child with classic autism spins a toy for hours on end, and is so absorbed that he isn't aware of the rest of the world on even a sensory level. The child with Williams Syndrome spins a toy for hours on end, yet chats with other in quite an animated matter while doing so. Still -- for that child, pleasure is dependent on spinning that toy.

If a person has neurological and physical abnormalities as well as mental ones, then I believe genetic testing is indicated. Unfortunately, a single test for a single gene can run hundreds of dollars. The more comprehensive microarray test that I crave runs close to two thousand dollars. Genetic testing can be a lengthy as well as expensive process.

As I wrote the previous lines, I found myself reverting to a poor habit: rocking. I got up and moved around a bit, and was conscious that I was wringing my hands. If my 'repetition impulse' consisted only of such simple motor behaviors ( which it of doesn't) it might be termed stereotypic movement disorder -- a fairly mild clinical portrait, at that.

Stereotypies differ from tics (ie Tourette's) in that they tend to be rhythmic and bilateral, and begin much earlier in childhood, often present from infancy or toddlerhood on. They are frequently associated with developmental delays or autism. When the motor behavior has negative effects on one's life, and when it appears to occur on its own (without an accompanying developmental disorder or other physical or psychological cause) it's sometimes called "stereotypic movement disorder".

Stereotypies, as I've noted, can be a source of stimulation; in a pinch, they give the neurological system the "momentum" it so craves. Some scientists believe, that for a segment of the population, repetitive behavior causes a release of endorphins. The behaviors generally only become distressing when people misinterpret them. Because I don't have autism or mental retardation, people are more likely to perceive the behaviors as nervous habits. I have to be cautious of, say, rocking in front of others when I am distressed because at that point someone might see the behavior as evidence of paranoia or a break from reality. It's true that I'm less likely to put in the effort to control the impulse when I'm distressed or in pain; however, the distress doesn't cause the impulse. I think there's a temptation to look at behaviors like rocking and imagine that the person is terrified of the world, that they see demons lurking in every corner.

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