ELEANOR Flegg, 56, is an author and lives in Dublin with husband Jasper Wood, 43, a special needs assistant at a primary school.
Here, she reveals her battle with face blindness – which has no treatment and affects one in 33 people.
Seeing the handsome stranger smiling at me, I blushed. I’d been walking near my house when I’d locked eyes with a good-looking cyclist across the road.
Then, as he got off his bike and walked towards me, I realised that it wasn’t a flirty stranger – it was my husband Jasper, who I’d known for 23 years.
Growing up, I felt different and awkward in so many ways. My struggle to recognise people was just one part of that, but it definitely impacted me.
Secondary school was often overwhelming because, with everyone in uniform, I couldn’t recognise people by their clothes.
I frequently had conversations with someone, only to discover they were someone else, which was awkward.
Once, when I was 15, I didn’t even recognise my own face in a photo, and thought it was a boy I had a crush on instead!
When I was in university, I went on a weekend away with a group that included a former boyfriend.
At least, I was almost certain he was the same person I’d gone out with as a teenager, but I couldn’t exactly ask him, so I spent the whole weekend avoiding him.
During my first marriage, I didn’t struggle to recognise my sons Vanya, born in 1992, and Turlough, born in 1996, when they were young. But being out with the boys would often mean stressful interactions.
When someone I didn’t recognise would appear and start cheerfully chatting, my brain would frantically whirr.
I’d think: ‘Do I know you from school or work or somewhere else?’ I’d scan their appearance – did their hair, glasses or handbag give me a clue?
I couldn’t bring myself to say: ‘I’m sorry, who are you again?’ so on most occasions, they’d wave goodbye and I’d be left exhausted, with no idea who I’d been speaking to.
Over time, I realised that my confusion would happen more often when I was tired or stressed, and that I had more chance of recognising someone if they had something distinctive about them, such as red hair or bold glasses.
Still, I didn’t know that what I was experiencing had a name.
I split up with my first husband in 1999, and the following year, aged 32, I started dating my now-husband Jasper and told him about it.
Thankfully, he was very understanding and helped me see the funny side. I needed that, because not recognising people is stressful.
There’s the exhaustion of trying to work out who someone is, plus the worry that I’ve upset or offended them. Finding the humour really helped.
One day in 2013, I saw a young man walking a greyhound and thought: ‘Wow, that dog is just like ours.’ When I saw Turlough, then 17, later that day, I told him about it. He just laughed and said: ‘Mum, that was me!’
Jasper and I got married in 2015 and it was wonderful to be with someone who loved me for exactly who I was, just like my boys.
The NHS says, Prosopagnosia, also called face blindness, is a condition where you have difficulty recognising people's faces.
Prosopagnosia is caused by a problem with the part of the brain that processes information about faces.
New research by Harvard University has found as many as one in 33 people may meet the criteria for face blindness.
Brad Pitt has spoken about his struggle to recognise faces.
Symptoms of Prosopagnosia:
In 2020, I was writing a novel that included an autistic character. As I researched autism, I recognised many traits in myself. The following January, aged 53, I went for an assessment.
On the forms it asked whether I had difficulty recognising faces, and that’s when I realised that the thing I’d been struggling with had a name: prosopagnosia.
It was so validating to receive my autism diagnosis and start the long process of accepting myself.
I find support on TikTok, where I also make videos
Having a proper term for not recognising people is helpful, though ‘face blindness’ is problematic as it implies a visual impairment, which I don’t have.
Speaking to my mum about it, I was astonished to hear that she’s had the same struggles all her life. I’d had no idea. It turns out that prosopagnosia runs in families.
There is no treatment, and I wouldn’t want it anyway – it’s part of who I am.
Jasper jokes he’ll get a forehead tattoo so I’ll recognise him! I find support on TikTok, where I also make videos. I want people to know that they’re not alone.”
