Neurodivergent Narratives: Memory, Meaning, and the Mind's Adaptations

Confabulation is often defined as a memory error—a kind of mental fill-in-the-blank when recall falters. In clinical contexts, it’s typically understood as a symptom of neurological conditions like Korsakoff’s syndrome or Alzheimer’s disease, where memory buckles under the weight of illness. But for many of us, particularly those who experience the world through neurodivergent perception—minds that process sensory input, social cues, and information in unique, often intense, or non-linear ways—this "error" can reveal a deeper kind of intelligence: the mind’s instinct to create meaning from fragmentation.

Rather than a flaw, confabulation can be seen as intuitive narrative repair. When our minds improvise missing details, they often do so with a remarkable sensitivity to emotional continuity. The story that emerges might not be factually perfect, but it feels right—it holds emotional truth. This isn’t deception; it’s resonance. It’s the mind’s effort to stay coherent, to remain connected to the self. For example, a person with autism might recall a social interaction as more positive than it was, weaving in details that reflect their longing for connection. Though not historically accurate, this memory preserves the emotional truth of their desire for acceptance.

“We don’t retrieve data like a computer; we rebuild it from fragments—sensory impressions, feelings, schemas—and improvise the rest.”

All memory, science tells us, is reconstructive. We don’t retrieve data like a computer; we rebuild it from fragments—sensory impressions, feelings, schemas—and improvise the rest. For those with autism or ADHD, where sensory input can be overwhelming or unfiltered, this improvisation isn’t just natural—it’s necessary. It’s a strategy to stay grounded in a chaotic world.

In this light, confabulation isn’t a detour from reality but a bridge to an emotionally manageable version of it. Memory becomes a melody—not static sheet music, but something felt and rephrased with each recall. What matters is that the emotional key holds.

This remixing isn’t random. Research shows confabulated memories often mirror our current emotional state, filling gaps in tune with who we are or need to be. Especially for neurodivergent minds, memory may prioritize emotional tone over chronology.

“These aren’t falsehoods—they’re emotional scaffolding.”

Consider tonal logic: the idea that a memory’s accuracy matters less than its ability to preserve the emotional rhythm of an experience. Many of us recall the feel of an event more vividly than its timeline. Our minds might later craft plausible scenes to hold that feeling together. These aren’t falsehoods—they’re emotional scaffolding. Like a musician improvising a melody to fit a key, our minds shape details to match the emotional tone. The result may not mirror the original event perfectly, but it captures what it felt like to be there.

When memory fragments—due to trauma, sensory overload, or executive disruption—confabulation can become survival. A child overwhelmed in a chaotic space might later recall an invented reason for their panic, not out of confusion, but because their mind needed a cause to make sense of it. An adult missing an appointment due to an attention lapse might “remember” setting an alarm that never existed. These details, though inaccurate, preserve agency and protect identity.

There’s a parallel with public figures under constant scrutiny. The curated narratives they build aren’t always manipulative—they’re stabilizing. Like confabulation, they create coherence in a disorienting world, crafting a self that can be lived with. Unlike confabulation’s unconscious flow, these narratives are often deliberate, yet both share a purpose: forging a unified sense of self amid external pressures and internal fractures.

We mustn’t dismiss these adaptive fictions as mere lies. The risk isn’t in having a different story, but in being told that story is invalid. When we reject the emotional truth in confabulated memories, we overlook their role in healing, coherence, and self-preservation.

Confabulation, then, isn’t the opposite of truth—it’s a cousin to it. It’s the mind saying: I need this story to make sense. And often, it does.

For many, especially those whose minds navigate the world in nonlinear, emotive, and richly associative ways, this memory-making is no flaw—it’s a skill. It reflects a profound human truth: we survive through story. When the official script falters, we write the missing lines ourselves.

What emerges may not be precise. But it often sings.

“This isn’t just adaptation. It’s composition. And every memory—fact, fiction, or felt—adds to the score of who we are becoming.”

By valuing emotional truth alongside factual accuracy, we can better understand and support those whose minds work this way. We can also celebrate the creativity and resilience at the heart of human storytelling. This isn’t just adaptation. It’s composition. And every memory—fact, fiction, or felt—adds to the score of who we are becoming.

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Follow On: A Confabulation of Thought

In a curious twist, this very exploration of confabulation led my own neurodivergent, abstract-seeking brain to a related but distinct line of thought—a tangent, perhaps, that felt inherently connected despite its shift in focus. It’s an ironic demonstration of the very point this essay makes: the mind’s tendency to weave together disparate ideas, to “confabulate” a larger narrative, even when strict chronological or thematic order might dictate otherwise. This section is my own mind’s “improvised melody” to the core theme.

ADHD and Brain Injury

This exploration deepens when we consider conditions like ADHD, particularly in cases where traits emerge or intensify after brain injury. It’s recognized that ADHD can be acquired through brain injury, with some literature supporting this connection. Yet, the scarcity of in-depth studies makes it challenging to draw firm conclusions.

Challenges in Diagnosis

• Pre-existing Conditions: Pinpointing whether ADHD or Autism Level 1 was present before the injury is a significant obstacle. These conditions can go undiagnosed, especially if symptoms were subtle or masked earlier in life.

• Symptom Overlap: Brain injuries can trigger attention deficits and impulsivity—hallmarks of ADHD—blurring the lines between acquired traits and innate conditions.

• Limited Research: The lack of comprehensive studies leaves many questions unanswered, hindering our understanding of this intersection.

Implications

The brain’s complexity suggests that what seems like a new condition might be an unmasking of something latent. A brain injury could amplify existing neurodivergent traits, like those in ADHD, making them more apparent. This possibility highlights an urgent need for more research to untangle the relationship between neurodevelopmental differences and acquired brain injuries.

This tangent reinforces the essay’s theme: the mind adapts, reweaves, and reconstructs. Whether through confabulation or the emergence of traits post-injury, it seeks coherence—crafting a narrative that resonates, even if the details shift.