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Tuesday, 14 April 2015

Living with an NT can be really hard work!

There are times - the whole of yesterday being one of them - when I realise that, in equal measure (perhaps more so) Ethan could be writing a blog about how hard it is to live with me!

Yesterday we had a family day out. I spent most of the day jabbing verbally at Ethan. On the car journey there I had a go at him for getting overly irritated with a bad driver - hooting his horn and gesticulating rudely (one of the few times he does employ body language!). When we were there I had a go at him for being 'selfish' for not being willing to go in the haunted house with Sam for a second time (it was a bit - the point wasn't really whether he wanted to or not but the fact that Sam wanted him to, a point that seemed lost on him). When he gave the cone bit of his ice-cream to Oliver I told him he was lazy for not taking it to the bin. And when he got concerned about where Ava was, I criticised him for fussing.

I may have had a point on some of these things (his attitude towards other drivers over tiny things when he himself drives with absolutely no courtesy for anyone else at all really makes me mad) but, over the course of the day, I had done many things that could have warranted criticism or being called selfish. I'd been bossy and controlling, I'd been irritable, I'd stressed over things that didn't really matter. Through all of it, Ethan kept quiet.

Right at the end of the day, Oliver wanted his long-sleeved top on to go on a twisty, turny 'hang on for dear life' kind of a ride with me. On searching for the top, we realised that Ethan had taken it back to the car already. I had a go at Ethan (of course) and then looked for the car keys. I couldn't find them and blamed Ethan for losing them, stating that he had gone to the car last. I was convinced he had and proceeded to tell him, step-by-step, why I was right. He was convinced that I was the last one to have the keys and tried to explain to me calmly but firmly why he was right. I very quickly got really annoyed and louder and angrier, the kids backed away, other people at the place stared at us. I just went on and on about why I was right and why he was so annoying. I was horrible.

In the end, he walked away (we'd found the keys), went to the car and got the top for Oliver. When he got back, Oliver excitedly grabbed the top and pulled eagerly at my arm, pleading with me to come on the ride. Ignoring him, I picked up where I'd left off and continued ranting at Ethan about how wrong and annoying and infuriating he was. He told me how horrible I was to spend time with and Oliver gave up and went on the twisty, turny thing by himself. Ethan walked away. Seething, I cornered Oliver on the ride and asked him whether he'd  gone to the car with daddy before or after the ice-cream (this was the crucial point in the argument about whether Ethan or I had gone to the car last). "We had an ice-cream after we came back from the car, mummy," said Oliver simply and innocently. Just the facts. And, in that instant, I realised that he - and Ethan - were right. I'd been the last one to go to the car. Which meant that, the whole time I'd been shouting at Ethan about him being wrong and unwilling to accept what I was saying,  I'd been wrong and unwilling to accept what Ethan was saying.

I said sorry and Ethan was nice. He didn't give me a hard time or dwell on it or repeatedly bring it up. He accepted my apology and we moved on. That was it.

I can't help but think, if the boot was on the other foot, I'd be writing a blog entry about him right now - about how awful and impossible it is to live with a husband with Aspergers, how thoughtlessly he behaves in front of the kids and how long-suffering I am.


Some of the posts on the different-together facebook page lately are about Aspies being 'right' and I do recognise these traits in Ethan. The difference between him and me is that generally, he only insists he's right about something when he knows he is (so they tend to be practical or scientific issues) and he explains calmly (and persistently) why. I, on the other hand, insist I'm right often and impulsively (when quite often I'm not) and go about it passionately, emotionally and intensely. 
We're not always the easier breed to live with!

Tuesday, 7 April 2015

Aspergers and learning on the job

Well, we went as a shiny, happy, sociable couple to the wedding reception! 

Ethan was making a concerted effort after the near-divorce proceedings that had arisen in the build up to it (see my earlier post) and we had a really lovely time!

I also, it has to be said, was making a concerted effort to be sensitive to Ethan's needs while we were there. When we first arrived there were quite a few single sex groups of people we knew a little bit that ordinarily I would have zoomed right in on and joined the conversation, leaving Ethan floundering. This time, knowing that Ethan would find this group chat overwhelming, I held back. We 'warmed up' in the little seating area next to the main bar where the music was quieter and chatted amicably one-on-one (which is really the only kind of chatting Ethan can comfortably do) with the other people who were hiding out there!

After a while, seeing that Ethan was safely enjoying a conversation with one other man, I went and had a dance. Ethan was able to legitimately excuse himself at regular intervals to go to the bar (I've never been so well attended to!) or the buffet table (proper man-size sausage and bacon butties!) meaning that he had short but regular 'breathers' from conversation.

After a while, when we'd both had a couple of drinks (and sausage sarnies) and were feeling relaxed and people had dispersed a bit either to the bar or to dance or to sit at tables, it was easier for Ethan to chat to one or two people at a time - and he did. I didn't even have to be around. Allowing me to catch up with my friends and to dance  - with all the gay abandon that comes from three glasses of wine!

The fact that he was feeling relaxed and comfortable and was chatting easily with people boosted Ethan's confidence which, in turn, made him more sociable which made him more confident. It also helped that he had something specific to talk about that he was interested in and that was interesting for other people (blokes at least). Yes, you've guessed it, (that bloody car) that I ranted about in an earlier blog has come into its own in more ways than one!

We came home and didn't argue. There was no awful feeling of dissatisfaction or embarrassment or frustration or of not fitting in for either of us. And we fell asleep cuddling (a bit too much wine for anything else!)


The night really was an on-the-job tutorial for how to get the best from a night out with an AS partner. And all it took from me was a bit of patience, a bit of understanding and, until Ethan was ready to wade in, a bit of holding back.

Tuesday, 31 March 2015

The ups and downs of an AS/NT life (Or how I loved him then hated him then loved him again)



“I’m going to take the kids to stay with my mum and dad on 10th April,” said Ethan to me one morning as I was wiping breakfast from around Sam’s mouth and simultaneously trying to pack three lunchboxes, “it’ll give you a break and I don’t go and see them often enough. It’s all arranged.”
“Oh right, erm,” I looked at the calendar to check my suspicions, “that’s the weekend of Becky’s wedding reception.”
“Oh for goodness sake,” said Ethan in the angry tone he uses when something isn’t going the way he wants. “Well there’s always something. I’m going anyway.”
What followed was two weeks of delicately bringing the matter up and suggesting gently that perhaps he could go during the week since he has that whole week booked off for the Easter holidays. Then he wouldn’t need to miss the wedding reception and I wouldn’t need to spend Easter Sunday at home on my own while my three children and husband are at my in-laws.
Each time I tried talking about the impending weekend, the subject was met with sighs, defensiveness  and an unwillingness to talk about it. He didn’t want to go to the wedding reception anyway, he said, “it’ll be awkward, I don’t really know anyone, there’ll be loud music playing so that I can’t hear anyone anyway. You’ll have a better time if you go without me.” This helped justify his decision, “And they won’t miss me,” he added, “they won’t even notice that I’m not there.”
I’ve tried not to be selfish but, the thing is, I don’t really want to go to this wedding reception on my own. However he justifies his absence and however unsociable he is when he’s there and, to my shame, however much he hates it and struggles his way through it, I’d rather have him there than not. It’s not particularly nice going to events like weddings on your own – particularly when you are actually married! In any case, I don’t fancy trying to get myself there and, like a charity case, looking for someone to share a taxi home with. I know, selfish, but there it is.
I accepted that Ethan wasn’t going to budge and texted the girl getting married to apologise profusely that it would only be me coming to her wedding reception and not both of us as per our original reply. I didn’t hear anything back. And I started to worry that she was really annoyed. And then I started to get really annoyed that I was in this position of letting her down and annoying her over something that Ethan had done/the way he is. The resentment continued to fester....
Things trundled along in this unsatisfactory, unresolved manner until yesterday when I realised that I am actually working all day on the Tuesday anyway and that therefore Ethan will have to entertain the kids by himself that day anyway and that, with all of these factors considered, it really made far more sense for him to go to his parents on the Tuesday and Wednesday rather than Easter weekend.
I calmly presented Ethan with the facts and suggested the Tuesday and Wednesday as an alternative. He sighed, shouted, said again that I’d have a better time at the wedding reception on my own to which I had to respond and drop the bombshell that, actually, going to events on my own isn’t fun and isn’t what I want. He got even more irritated by this as it didn’t give him the get-out clause he wanted. I also mentioned that it would be quite nice to be together as a family on Easter Sunday and to be able to see my kids that day and perhaps do an egg hunt with them in the garden.
I tried to keep things calm but he got increasingly agitated and angry, grabbed the phone, called his mum and said that he was going to come on the Tuesday and Wednesday instead. I appreciated that he was taking on board what I’d said but that wasn’t really the reaction I was looking for – I simply wanted a discussion about what dates made the most sense.
Ethan spent the rest of the day being distant and grumpy with me. When I finally challenged him at tea-time he said that yes, he was angry with me, that I was trying to control him and emotionally blackmail him and why should he have to ask his wife’s ‘permission’ to take his kids to his mums and dads anyway? I was seething and heartbroken and incensed and sorry-for-myself all at the same time. Wanting to discuss options for when would be best for him to take our kids away over Easter was not, I felt unreasonable. That he resented having to involve me at all (in his words ‘ask my permission’) was hurtful (he used the same expression when he got angry over me not agreeing to his purchase of a £12,000 convertible BMW that he bought anyway). Also, that he’d been angry and unpleasant to me all day just because I’d stated some facts and presented an alternative opinion was pathetic. 
I really resonated with what someone said on the My story section of the different-together homepage: 
The stress seemed to be caused by very “normal” conditions and yet I was not witnessing typical responses and behaviours from the man who was supposed to be my equal in parenting and all things "grown up".
It was at this point that I hated him. And told him so. Which the kids heard. Which made me hate him more.
I went up to our bedroom and cried and felt sorry for myself some more and thought about divorcing him.
After a while he came up and said how sorry he was and how he knew he’d been horrible and an idiot. And explained that he didn’t want to change the dates because that’s what he’d decided. I told him that was just stubborn - it made no sense, that he couldn’t admit that he’d made a wrong decision. He said he knew – he was stubborn, that he found it really hard to accept that he was wrong. That it didn’t make sense but he just felt really stressed at the thought of changing what he’d already decided was going to happen. He looked so sad and dejected and defeated slumped on the bed that I felt sorry, not for me anymore, but for him. He hugged me and said that he wanted to support me at the wedding.   
He’s now going to his mum and dad’s on the Tuesday and Wednesday and coming to the wedding reception with me on the Saturday. Now I’m the one feeling guilty and telling him to stick to his original plan and go to his parents at the weekend if that’s what he’d rather do. He of course is refusing and determined that we’ll have a good time at the wedding. And I, even though we’ve gone the long way round, love him again for his humility, his sacrifice and his commitment to keep trying.
The rollercoaster goes on and on!

Tuesday, 24 March 2015

Quite aside from Aspergers, men and women are just different!

This is all I've got for you today - but it's great! The differences between men and women are summed in brilliantly in this piece: for an AS and NT partnership, even more so. Hope, as it did for me, it makes you smile and walk a little lighter.

Daughter's birthday today. I'm working most of the day and, somehow, somewhere trying to decorate her birthday cake ready for after school. Ethan has a day off - and what's he chosen to do? Go to the cinema and not be home in time for them coming back from school. Perfect.

Quick, before I start on a rant...the link to the piece: http://m.imgur.com/gallery/6icZ3

PS I feel I need to announce the minor breakthroughs and celebrate the small things...Ethan didn't go to the cinema today on his day off, even though he had a free ticket that expired today! I arrived home from work, just before school pick-up, to find a Happy Birthday banner up, balloons tied either end, party poppers laid out on the table and Ethan in the middle of cleaning the kitchen floor. As I write, he's just gone off on the school run! He felt too guilty to go the cinema, he said and wouldn't have been able to relax. A little part of me feels bad for making him feel this way, another part of me feels elated that what I said went in and that he put his family before what he wanted to do. And he's still in good spirits! Might just give him an extra big slice of birthday cake (yes, I did get it decorated in time!)

Monday, 16 March 2015

Aspergers and socialising together

Another disappointing social event over the weekend.

I've had enough of them to expect as much. Still, each time an occasion presents itself, a small part of me hopes that this time, things might go well; that Ethan and I will enjoy an evening socialising with friends - and just sometimes we will. Saturday night though, wasn't one of those times.

Things started off promisingly. We arrived early so there were limited people to converse with. As a result, Ethan found himself, naturally enough, speaking to the bloke next to him at the bar. For twenty minutes or so, all seemed to be going well. Then another guy joined in the conversation, then another and, for Ethan, that was the beginning of the end. Within a few minutes, the linear exchange between Ethan + 1 had turned into a back and forth free-for-all. Ethan had no chance. For a while, he made a valiant attempt to keep up, to remain focused. But he was over-stimulated, lost and even if he could have identified where and when to interject, the noisy surround sound of 50+ people all talking at once in a pub function room meant his over-stimulated brain couldn't focus or decipher a word of what anyone was saying. A couple of times, Ethan told me later, someone seemed to specifically say something to him (he knew from the way everyone looked at him waiting for a reaction) but Ethan had no idea what they'd said so just smiled. It's these kind of accounts from Ethan that make me shrivel inside. What must they have thought?!

I try to keep perspective. To remind myself of the many great qualities that Ethan has, to tell myself that the ability to partake in intelligent, humorous social chat isn't a requirement of a decent person or the main ingredient for a happy marriage. The problem is that, right or not, it is one of the ingredients, for me at least.

I want to able to go for an evening out together with friends without worrying about whether Ethan will be OK and what kind of impression he's making on the people around him. Relationships shouldn't be all about hard work. I want to have fun with him. I don't want to have to look after him, worry about him or do the socialising for both of us or, alternatively, go to events on my own. It might be shallow but, if he had friends and could confidently walk into a room full of people and socialise effortlessly and in a way that entertained people, I would fancy him more. The person looking disconnected and slightly pissed off standing silently at the edge of a group of men who are all laughing and chatting together easily, isn't the guy I'm drawn to (well it is, but for all the wrong reasons!).

The fact is though, I was drawn to him - perhaps because he is different, because he is vulnerable, perhaps - in all honesty - because he doesn't have all that, sometimes exhausting, frothiness of social engagement. What the rest of us take for granted, he really, really struggles with. Going out to a party or a night in a crowded pub for him is, at best overwhelming and hard work and, at worst, painful and humiliating. And yet he keeps putting himself through it - and trying to get better at it, for me. Because he knows that, to me, it's important. Like I said on my last post, it's not very often that I would put myself out for him in that way. And so, although it might be hard to feel attracted to him sometimes when I'm at a party surrounded by confident, funny men conversing easily, I do continue to love him.

Would be great to know how you all cope with social situations in your NT/AS partnerships. What works for you? Should we keep on trying to pull our AS partners kicking and screaming into our social worlds, or would it be easier to go to social events on our own? And, if so, what effect does this have on us as a unit - how do we avoid living separate lives? Post your thoughts under the General natter Talk Topic in the Socialising as couples thread of the Different-together website

Blimey, these blog posts have been a bit depressing of late. Will try and come up with something lighter for next week!

Wednesday, 11 March 2015

£11,500 - the price for a happy Aspergers husband?



So, he bought the car. All £11,500 worth of it.
The sight of it there on the drive is bitter-sweet. On the one hand it represents his selfishness, his need for things and his hypocrisy.
He bought it despite the fact I vehemently disagreed with the purchase and that we can’t afford it without getting into (more) debt. Also, if we were going to spend that amount of money I’d rather have spent it on something we would all have benefitted from – a holiday maybe, with enough money left over to pay off our credit card bill and be debt-free. Also, my life is peppered with ‘advice’ from Ethan to spend less on food, his loud exhalations of breath at the cost of school trips and, just yesterday, his suggestion that I buy Sam’s shoes from M&S rather than Clarkes as M&S is cheaper (yes, I did nearly deck him!).
On the other hand the car has, for a limited time I realise, made him happy. He’s thoughtful and caring towards me (presumably due to the guilt), he’s jolly with the kids, he takes himself out for drives and comes back relaxed and invigorated and, although I’m loathe to admit it, he’s had some great moments with the kids due to the car. They love it. Ava is desperate for him to pick her up from the school disco in it because it’s so cool. Sam and Oliver love it because the roof comes down and the seats heat up. And on Saturday Ethan and all three kids spent a happy couple of hours cruising around the peak district in it while I got some work done.
After years of battling, I’m at peace with the fact we’re very different when it comes to possessions: I don’t really need them and am not all that interested. In fact I’d rather make do with a slow and decrepit laptop which still has some life in it than get a faster, shinier, new one. He, on the other hand, thinks of anything over 5-years-old as being out of date and past it, he spends countless hours of his life surfing the web looking at products and he gets immense satisfaction out of having the best, most economical, fastest, latest versions of everything. What I get from people, Ethan gets from things.
His spending has always been manageable. He does act within the boundaries of having a family to support first but, put it this way, only one of us in this family can spend like that. If I took on Ethan’s approach, we’d be bankrupt within a year. The thing I’m most put out about probably is that I really, really didn’t agree with the extravagant car purchase. I cried, I argued, I had sensible discussions with him, I even tried to guilt-trip him with references to holiday-less summers and no money to celebrate my 40th birthday. We eventually reached a compromise and agreed that he would spend no more than £9000 on a car and even that pained me.
Then he came home with one that cost £11,500.
So, the car on the front drive has given me a happy, caring, cheerful, considerate, helpful husband for a while but the cost - apart from the money - is a feeling of betrayal and of my views and feelings not counting for much. Or at least not counting as much as having a fancy new car.

Thursday, 5 March 2015

Aspergers and spending a night in their shoes



“Can I be really honest with you? I absolutely hated every minute of that party. I hated the awkward mingling in that room when we arrived with so many people crammed in. I didn’t recognise anyone and everyone was talking at once so I couldn’t hear what anyone was saying. I hated being squashed onto that table and having to think of things to talk about with the same few people for two hours. And I hated when the music started. That was the end of the night for me. I couldn’t hear what anyone was saying, I got fed up of saying pardon, I didn’t want to dance. I just hated it.”
These were Ethan’s words the morning after a 40th birthday party last weekend. I know such things aren’t his cup of tea. I knew he was unlikely to enjoy himself (although every now and then there are social engagements that he enjoys - but he has to be in the mood and ideally there should only be one or two other people that he is speaking to at any one time, no interruptions between speakers and minimal background noise). I felt slightly nervous in the run up to this 40th birthday party. It was going to be full of friends from school whom I hadn’t seen for years and I really wanted to enjoy it. I was worried that he’d be rude, disengaged, a miserable presence or that, even if he wasn’t any of these things, I’d be on edge all night waiting for one of these behaviours to manifest itself.
The fact is, he was none of these things. He chatted to people, he smiled, he even danced briefly when backed into a corner. He didn’t even moan privately to me (not even when I took too long to say goodbye to everyone and we missed our taxi home!). No-one, not even me, would have guessed how much he was hating it.
Amidst my demands for him to tow the party line, come along to events he hates and to SMILE and converse his way through them (mostly for my sake but also for his – when he’s made the effort, it does boost his self-esteem, he does feel more a part of things and it does lift his spirits, as long as he knows he can sit down by himself in a dark room afterwards!) – but amidst all this effort from him, I wonder if I would – if I do – do the same for him. Would I give up one of my precious evenings to play computer games with him if it would make him happy? I switch off if he starts talking camera-angles and lighting effects in films and I’ve never been to a technology show with him.
To be honest with myself, I suspect that, rather than meeting him in the middle, we meet ¾ of the way along, in my favour. Maybe immersing myself in something he likes and I hate for an evening would give me a valuable glimpse into his world. After all, it’s us who are meant to be good at adapting isn’t it?!