A Match made in Heaven

As a neurotypical have you ever been the odd one out? Yesterday I had the pleasure of experiencing this. I call it a pleasure, because I have learned to enjoy my ‘out of the square’ experiences, thanks to living in my neurodiverse family.   While I am the odd one out in my family, what made this experience more delightful was that it involved someone who was not a part of my family.

I had gone to pick up my Aspie teenage daughter Humphrey, from her Aspie teenage friend’s house. I shall call him Wilbur (yes, he actually is male). I stood at the kitchen bench while I waited for Humphrey and Wilbur to finish their poorly timed lunch break. Humphrey wandered over to the kitchen cupboard to retrieve herself a cup. I felt that tug-o-war within. One end was held by my horror that Humphrey was helping herself to someone else’s cupboard without asking first. The other end was held by my delight that she felt so comfortable in a place other than her own space at home.

Unable to resist I announced in a sarcastic tone, “I am so glad you’re comfortable enough to help yourself to Wilbur’s cupboards.” Humphrey, picking up my subtle wrist slap (she’d had enough of them over the years to read the intention) responded with, “I don’t like people having to do things for me.”

As I processed and related to her sentiment, and was about to respond, Wilbur piped up excited by his discovery, “Excellent! I don’t like to do things for people! We are a match made in heaven!”

God I love Aspie logic! They make so much sense! Where else would a conversation like this evolve other than an Aspie kitchen? The sublime honesty, the pleasure in things fitting together, the authentic sharing. It was a delight to witness. No mind reading, no subtle inferences (other than my sarcastic interjection), no shoulds or oughts, rights or wrongs. No offence given and none taken. Complete acceptance of the way that it is. And it is exactly the way it is. I love learning from Aspies.

Top 10 things I want my ASD partner to know.......

1.   I frequently feel split. Sometimes I love and admire you so much I could burst. Other times I am so challenged by your way of being I do burst. All over both of us. Sorry about that.

2.   I am sorry if I seem critical, or if it feels like I want to change you. Sometimes I struggle with what you do and how you respond. I love you and I want us to work so much. The only way I know how is to try and make you and me better.

 

3.   Sometimes you trigger something deep in me that really hurts. I don’t always know how to manage that. I may need some time to work out if the issue is mine or yours or both of ours. You are a great mirror. You help me see my own wounds. I am learning to deal with these.

 

4.   I appreciate your loyalty to me. I would love to see it extend to thinking or wondering more about my needs, or even asking how you could help me. Sometimes I feel alone managing all that I do. I like to feel that you are there.

 

5.   Hello! I am here! I know you get very busy and absorbed doing what you do, but sometimes I feel forgotten. Come and pat me, tell me you love me, ask me what I am doing. Show me that you know I am here.

 

6.   I know you get very frustrated and it is hard to manage those feelings. But you need to know when you let loose all that rage, it frightens me. I may shout back or withdraw from you, but that is what I do to manage my feelings. I am always looking for a different way but sometimes I can’t find one.

 

7.   I would like to develop strategies with you. It is hard to do without patronising or criticising you, or making you feel small. Sometimes my word choice is clumsy. I want to support you to take responsibility for your feelings and actions, just as I am trying to take responsibility for mine.

8.   Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with all I cannot control, that I feel helpless and hopeless. I know you know this feeling. Please don’t feel bad. I am just exhausted and struggling to find new ways to understand, to see, and to be with our life together.

9.   I love how you are different from others and I celebrate your uniqueness and your gifts. But sometimes I struggle with that difference when it shows up in ways that expose us both. I am trying to let go of my attachment to ‘normal’, but it is deeply entrenched in me. I want you to be free to be who you are. Sometimes I forget that it is OK.

10.  Sometimes I want more companionship, conversation or intimacy from you than you may feel ready or able to give. Rather than try to manipulate you or force you, I will try to take responsibility for this and manage my needs through other appropriate channels. I love us both enough to honour your need for solitude, and my need for connection.

While I am at it I will just add 3 more:

11.  Sometimes I am awkward around you. I want to say something but I don’t know how to tell you in a way that will not hurt your feelings, or make you anxious and angry. I want you to know I still love you, even when I have unpleasant things to say.

12.  I know you do not like to be interrupted, but sometimes life happens unexpectedly and I have to interrupt you because I need to consult with you, get your opinion, or get your assistance. We are a team and that is how a team works.

13. When I am distressed, I just need you to listen. You don’t have to fix anything or tell me what you think. You just need to pay attention to me and to say “I’m sorry that happened”, or “Is there anything I can do?” This tells me you care about me and I feel heard and loved.

 

The Angry Aspie

Dear Herscue and Jomphrey,

Sometimes my Aspie partner gets furious when something does not work. He shouts and swears and throws things. Sometimes he hurts himself. How can I manage this?

Herscue says:

It can be distressing and unpleasant to hear someone we care about having such a loud and intense expression of anger. We can feel frightened, intimidated and even threatened. A few things can help these situations:

·         Taking care of ourselves in the moment. This is not the time to express our feelings to our partner, but to look after our needs and create physical and emotional safety. That may look like removing ourselves to another room, or to another location.

·         Exploring our reaction to the anger. The way we react can help or hinder. What is our relationship to anger as expressed by others? As expressed by ourselves? Where is our line? Is our line allowing enough room for some anger expression? Or is our line over exposing us to too much unhealthy anger expression? It can help to explore our experience of anger with a professional, who can support us to reflect on our boundaries, and take responsibility for how we respond.

·         Finding empathy for the frustration our partner is experiencing. We all know what it is like when something won’t do what we want or need. Empathy can help us stay in a more loving, respectful, and less judgmental space when we deal with others’ anger.

·         Remembering that we cannot control when, why and how someone expresses their anger, but we can express how it is for us. Choose a calm, open time to do this, and express authentically eg, “I feel helpless and scared when you are so angry. I want to offer you support but I don’t know how to do it. Do you have any suggestions for me?” Work together towards solutions that suit both partners.

·         Being clear about the forms of anger expression we will not tolerate ie: anger expressed directly at us, intense expressions around children. Share the concerns and the actions we will take to hold that boundary ie: When you direct your anger at me, I feel unsafe and fearful of you. It impacts the way I feel towards you. To look after myself, I will be leaving the house when I see you escalating.”

Don’t expect an easy solution. Remember that neural wiring impacts on our ability to regulate emotion. Those with Asperger’s are frequently distressed at their challenges managing their emotions and the impact this can have on others. It takes time to develop a different way. For all of us. The dialogue about anger is an ongoing one to be had without blaming and shaming. Anger is best dealt with in a loving way, one human to another.

Jomphrey Says:

Firstly, if everyone says Aspies have meltdowns, then your partner is probably having a meltdown. You married one and this is what we do. The Aspie is the one with the problem here. Something has tipped them off balance. It’s not directed at you. My advice is one in, all in. You yell and scream at that thing as well. Really give it some. Share the outrage and be amazed as the situation de-escalates quickly. Then you can worry about your feelings later with your counsellor, priest and all your support team. This is acknowledging. They feel very alone, the Asperger.

Neurodiverse Communication

Dear Herscue and Jomphrey,

I wish my Asperger's husband would notice when I need help and offer. I always hope he will notice how busy and stressed I am, but he doesn’t. I feel alone and unsupported. How can I change this?

Jess QLD

 

Herscue says:

I resonate deeply with this challenge, and I am sure many others do too. We all like to be ‘seen’ in our struggle and to be supported accordingly. It would be nice if our partners could offer this. I believe they can offer us support. It just may not involve reading our minds or reading the situation.

I think it is important that we pay attention to the stories we tell ourselves about our partners and the ‘lack of support’. Some of my favourite stories are, “He doesn’t care about me”, “He’s self-obsessed”, and “I am not important enough to help”. These stories are often untrue, but their effects can be devastating to us, and divisive in our relationships. These stories can contribute to feelings of powerlessness, and they build resentment and encourage us to act in ways that are not helpful or aligned with our values.

This is also an opportunity to explore how we feel about asking for help. Times like this expose our fears to ask for the help we need. Do we feel able to ask our partner and are we ready for their response? We cannot control that response, but we can work out what to do next. We may need to nurse our disappointment (or our grief). We may have to look other places for the support we need. We probably need to alter what we expect. We may not be acknowledging our partner's challenges with executive functioning (organisational skills), and verbal processing. And we may be demanding too much of ourselves to compensate, and unduly stressing ourselves. Or we may be surprised as our partner actually helps us. Our new story may be, “I can get the support I need if I ask someone.” We are responsible for getting the help we need, just as we are responsible for our feelings about it. The Aspies in our lives teach us this.

Jomphrey says:

Your Aspie partner is not a mind reader. Your Aspie partner works on directive literality eg: “See that bin there? Take it out to the curb side.” By the way, what you wish for and what is steeped in reality may be two different things. There is no way known that your husband has changed in this regard over the course of your relationship. He is consistent. He hasn’t changed. You knew what you were getting yourself into. If you want something done, my advice is these three words: “Don’t wish – direct”.

The Blurt

It is hard to imagine that we could reframe a ‘blurt’ into something worthy. We have all been on the end of a ‘blurt’ from our Aspie, and after we got over the shock, the hurt or the outrage, we may have felt sure we had to stop the flow of blurts into the world. There is a reason blurt rhymes with hurt.

Yet while we have all been victims of the ‘blurt’, we have all been the perpetrator of the ‘blurt’ too. We have all had times when our mouth has had its own agenda, and some cosmic force used us as a puppet. It has happened to the best of us, and rarely do we have the intent to cause the harm it seems to.

It is interesting then, that when we are on the receiving end of a ‘blurt’, we can feel mortally wounded. Perhaps it is because we know deep down, that what comes forth from the mouth of the blurter, comes from some other place. A place where there is less time to add layers of distortion or untruth upon it. The words arrive without the interference of the censor button, and are delivered straight in the space between blurter and blurtee. Blurted words lay there between one person’s surprise and another’s humiliation (especially if we have a usually working censor). These words may be more authentic and truthful than we care to know. Like salt on a wound, they sting our most tender spots.

What is considered a ‘blurt’ from an Aspie, is really authenticity. It is unadulterated, clean thoughts straight from their heads. If we can learn to get over ourselves and stop judging the package it arrived in, we will see the gold. The Aspie has delivered a message that could be exactly what we needed to hear. It has been my experience over and over. Of course we probably won’t like what we hear. There is a reason the ‘blurt’ is so unpopular. But if we can put down our pride for a moment, we may realise that it is a little gift. Horribly wrapped, but a gift nevertheless.

Just the other day, Humphrey (my now 15 year old ASD daughter) took an out loud note of my ‘back bosoms’. You know that little roll of fat that appears over your bra strap? It makes for a double muffin top; one down over our jeans and one higher up our back.

Now while I could have run with this in many directions, I found myself standing in front of her with my hands up in surrender, “You got me on that one!” I knew those air chips were not really air because the more I ate of them, the bigger those back bosoms grew. I just wanted to pretend it was something else that was completely out of my control. You know, like a middle aged spread or a thyroid condition. I had hoped only I noticed them. Clearly I was not the only one.

Who knows how many air chips I may have gone on to consume? I could have got as far as ankle bosoms and diabetes. Thanks to Humphrey’s lack of diplomacy, I got the reality check that no one else in their social politeness was going to give me. And it didn’t look like I was going to give one to myself.

Maybe it is not ‘shame on the Aspie’ for blurting, but ‘shame on us’ for pretending. Coating our truths in layers of fairy floss, the truth is hard to find. I am not advocating the hurtful blurt, but I am offering another possible way to see the ‘blurt’. We will never fully control what comes out of another’s mouth, nor do we have the right. We can however, control how we see it, where we put it, and what we do with it in response when it comes our way.

And we can support our Aspie loved ones to own their own Truth as their reality, their view, as opposed to an absolute one and only reality. We can encourage them to offer their truth accordingly, and in a way that may be more palatable for a world unready for such intense honesty. And while we are at it, instead of pretending not to see in order to avoid offending others, we can commit to sharing honestly and lovingly for the benefit of us all. There is a part for each of us to play.