I doubted myself enormously though; he laughed when I told him I thought he had ASD as if I was a lunatic.
I spoke to his sister about my suspicions and she did exactly the same- laughed. "Ok he's a bit different, but..."
Exactly. Why is everybody ignoring the "but?" When I met Peter, he'd been in his early thirties and had never had a serious girlfriend, he hadn't taken much interest in sex throughout his teenage years, his twenties or his thirties and his mum was still buying his shirts. I overlooked everything in the beginning, because Peter was a good person, a gentleman. Kinder to me than any other boyfriend I'd had up to that point in our relationship.
For a while, I didn't speak of my suspicions around his ASD to anyone but did begin leaning on friends about my unhappiness. I think I'd been trained into loyalty towards him and his laughter at my suggestion of ASD had turned to anger on his part. Then one day, a friend came over for lunch, someone who had known him before she had known me and that's when she said it- "You do realise that he probably has ASD don't you?"
I'd lived with these secret thoughts all this time and ASD had become a bad word in our house the more I'd mentioned it, yet here she was just saying it quite casually in my dining room. I almost cried at the acknowledgement and validation I felt. This opened the doors to more conversations with others around my suspicions and subsequently, more relief.
Then in 2017, we attended relationship counselling for the first time and we were talking about Peter's mum. Then, quite out of context, the counsellor pointed out that some of her behaviours sounded similar to the traits of ASD. Peter was obviously taken aback by this, here was someone else saying this naughty word that he didn't like. But, it occurred to me that she'd suggested this after only a small amount of information about his mum, which led me to think that she was making a suggestion about him in a non-direct way. I emailed her a few days later and asked her outright if she thought Peter had ASD. She didn't say yes, but she did respond that if Peter did have ASD, then we would need to find news ways of making our relationship work for the both of us. We only saw her once more after this, as it became clear to me in the next session, that what she meant by "find new ways" was me bending over backwards to accommodate him. That was never going to work for me.
In April 2022, after telling Peter that I was leaving him, he wanted us to attend relationship counselling once again. I suggested my own counsellor, a renowned psychotherapist with lots of experience who had previously come highly recommended. I asked her, she wasn't sure as she already knew me, but she got advice herself and agreed. Peter had sessions on his own before coming together for a 2.5 hour session. Having such a huge amount of time to talk in one go with the guidance of a psychotherapist was extremely useful. At the end of the session, when still, issues were unclear and unresolved, she asked me (infront of Peter) to take a couple of weeks break from the relationship as she noticed that I was emotionally drained.
Unexpectedy, the day after, we both received an email, outlining the conversation we'd had and any issues that had surfaced. I was surprised to read the final paragraph, advising Peter to consider that he may have ASD and she explained exactly why she had thought so. To read her words was pure validation, after years of gaslighting, anger and me feeling disloyal for suggesting it. Of course, Peter never wanted to see her again after this "insult", but I see her regularly now on my own.
I've learned to trust my intuition a bit more, because for years, I was gaslighting myself all because Peter didn't want to acknowledge his ASD and the limitations this gave him. For Peter, admitting ASD or seeking out a diagnosis means being "wrong," it would mean for him that maybe he isn't compatible with being in a romantic relationship afterall. For him, he couldn't be "right" enough and needing to work on his behaviour is something he's never had to do before, particularly after always being labelled the "good child" by his mother. She valued his quiet existence in their home and now I'd come along, I was demanding love, understanding, sex and connection. ASD is too difficult for him to come to terms with when his cosumption of information has allowed him to be right about most things all his life. Peter is highly intelligent, so in his mind, he can't have special needs.
The lack of diagnosis means a lack of support for our relationship and so I extended that suggested two week break from our relationship and I'm still taking it. I seek support for myself instead. That one joint counselling session has saved my sanity and given me my life back, but there is no relationship with Peter. He is content with this, provided we're all still together under one roof. I am unhappy here on the whole and he knows it, but he's fine with this, provided I don't leave. I am a loving, sexual, sensual, joyful person with unmet needs and so I do plan to leave him, as I did back in April. Other variables in life are making that difficult to action at this present time, but I am determined to be happy again.
As for a diagnosis, would it make a difference? Many would argue not. But I do think that because fundamentally, Peter is a good person (as I repeat throughout these posts), with some support and consistency, behaviours could be worked on for the sake of our relationship. The problem of course is that for Peter, having ASD makes him feel wrong and so he has again, rejected the idea that he has it. I don't think that will ever change and a superficial relationship works for Peter, he doesn't have the same needs as I do, so why would he seek out a diagnosis?
Sometimes, I worry about him meeting the emotional needs of our children, although he is definitely better at parenting than he is at relationshipping. For me, a diagnosis doesn't matter if he's not willing to put in the hard work of challenging his own behaviours, so it makes no difference. Diagnosis or no diagnosis, the impact he has on me remains the same and that is what is important here. Minimising the impact means carving out a life independent of him, which is uplifting and sad all at the same time.
I think if there's one thing many of us Cassandras have in common, its the desire to love and relate and the drive to make our marriages and relationships happy and healthy. It goes against our instincts to rebel against this, to become selfish, independent, to carve out our boundaries and to time block (we must block out our time otherwise we become a never ending resource for them to utilise).
Ultimately, I believe that the best thing we can do is leave, because nothing will change without acknowledgement of the real issue and believe it or not, we are important too.
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