The difference between autism and arseholeism

A friend of mine has a husband who is autistic. He has his quirky ways, his prized possessions, he likes his routines, his diet is pretty unimaginative.

But, he adores his wife. 

And if she tells him she's upset, he believes her and works to find a solution; he advocates for her in public; he has her back; he cooks and cleans; he shows her that he loves her.

I know that autism affects people in different ways, but it has made me consider that autism isn't a built in excuse to be a bad husband. That if a husband is unwilling to work on himself or his marriage, then actually, that's arseholeism. 

-When you tell your autistic husband that you're unhappy and you want to work with him to find a solution, but instead he sulks, closes the door on you and focuses purely on himself. That's arseholeism.

-When your autistic husband is verbally and physically abusive towards you. That's arseholeism. 

-When he 'forgets' or dismisses your birthday? That's arseholeism. 

-When he refuses to help with the children or housework or anything that causes him any sort of inconvenience either by avoiding it or arguing the toss out of his responsibilities. That's arseholeism.

-When he can spend quality time with his friends or his special hobbies but not with you? That's arseholeism.

-When you have to convince him to share his finances with you. That's just arseholeism.

-When he diminishes your opinions and feelings because he doesn't like them or they don't fit his confined way of thinking? That's arseholeism.

-When you repeatedly attend therapy because your level of wellbeing is so low in this marriage and he refuses therapy himself? That's arseholeism.

-When he keeps you all for himself and refuses to leave or makes it difficult for you to leave, yet he refuses a loving intimate relationship with you? That's emotional abuse caused by arseholeism.

-When you have to remind him that your time is not up for his taking, that you need time out too because he hasn't even considered that you are a human with needs outside of family life. That's arseholeism. 

-When he refuses to celebrate special occasions like anniversaries? That's arseholeism. 

- When he knows deep down that relationships are difficult for him, but he masks and love bombs and ropes you into one with him anyway only to retreat from it once he "has" you, that's arseholeism. 

- When his family are disrespectful towards you but he can not see through his own obligations and loyalties towards them and expects you to be more tolerant of them. That's arseholeism. 

- When he closes down all communication with him around your unhappiness. That's arseholeism. 

- When he spoils holidays because deep down he doesn't like change and he takes it out on you rather than finding a healthier outlet for his own anxiety, that's arseholeism. 

- When you're ill and he doesn't care for you, or worse, punishes you through sulking, silence or outward disapproval. That's arseholeism. 

I'm sure there are plenty more scenarios that women have become exposed to whilst in these one-sided, careless relationships. But it's important that we don't pin all of his negative behaviour on autism. Some men may not feel the level of empathy that we might expect in loving relationships, but when we communicate our upset and dislike of something, he has a choice. He can choose to find solutions, he can choose to listen, he can choose to validate her, even if he doesn't feel it. 

Gaslighting, denying or arguing our feelings away is abusive. It's selfish. It's neglectful. Let's not use autism as an excuse for abuse. 

Getting Comfortable with his Discomfort

I find his discomfort incredibly difficult. 

But, this is what makes us Cassandras great lovers and partners in the first place: we want to make life lovely for the ones we love. Isn't that what anyone in a romantic relationship wants to do, initially anyway? If you prioritise them 100% and they prioritise you 100%, surely you can't go far wrong? This is my theory anyway.

It was at the point when I was exhausted, neglected, depressed and worn down that I realised that Peter was protecting his own comfort at all costs, leaving me in intense discomfort a lot of the time and nobody was looking after me. I realised that I needed to become selfish to survive. I had to stop loving him purely out of survival.  This does not make for a successful romantic relationship. Ever. I'm well acquainted with discomfort, having grown up with an alcoholic parent. Despite tons of therapy and self help, I didn't realise that I was still tolerating my own discomfort so "well" until extremely recently.

It is still foreign to me to accept Peter's discomfort in return for my own comfort. I feel immense guilt, a sense of failure, self doubt, self loathing, selfishness. I feel I've wronged him. He makes me feel I've betrayed him: the sulking, the silent treatment, the body language. However, I'm having to tolerate Peter's discomfort to keep my children safe from his erratic driving; his lack of danger awareness, his emotional neglect and exposure to his mother's narcissism. It's a tough balance because no matter what I do, I feel a sense of unease at my decision making. This weekend, Peter had wanted the children to accompany him on a family trip and I told him no. I have thought of him alone, his cousins and sister all accompanied by their young children and him alone and a bit lost without any of us there. I have to remind myself that he has repeatedly chosen his loyalty to the FOO (family of origin) over his loyalty to me and our children and that this is his consequence.

Peter isn't used to consequences. 

He has been quite spoiled by his parents in some ways, having lived a rather privileged childhood filled with long-haul holidays; racing cars funded by his father; large houses; tree houses; play rooms filled with the latest toys and gadgets; deposits for houses and cars paid for in adulthood. Peter's childhood has lacked in emotion and love, but he has never lacked in material things and big experiences. He was supported and funded by his parents to partake in a range of hobbies and outlets as a child and I doubt if he ever asked for something, he was ever told no. 

Self entitlement is an ugly attribute, but it dominates Peter's motivations; he believes that poor people are born of laziness rather than circumstance, with this comes an innate superiority complex; he believes that he is deserving of a comfortable life. This mindset conflicts greatly when the man I know expected things to work in his favour always, despite the poor effort he made in love. He is an exception to his own belief systems. 

Yesterday, I received a text from Peter asking me to cut his hair for him having always done this previously. I didn't reply for hours. Intensely going over whether to agree or not to- my head knowing that this was not appropriate and my heart just wanting to please him, make him happy. I thought of the extra childcare he'd provided this week and had to remind myself that no, he's their father, I don't need to sabotage my personal boundaries for feelings of obligation towards him for purely looking after his own children! 

I responded eventually very authentically. I said that I felt very guilty for saying no but that I needed to protect my own feelings. In the past, I've stuck to my boundaries authoritatively at times and felt like I've been a hypocrit when I've needed him and dropped those boundaries again. This time was different. Telling him that I felt guilty helped me feel a bit more comfortable somehow. Peter actually responded with an apology for putting me in an awkward position, which felt positive.

However, we all know how these types of men operate and I was soon to blame. He was unable to make an appointment at the barbers that evening as he was looking after the children. He tried to convince me to keep the children longer as they were "playing nicely" but I had my own plans, meaning that he couldn't go off and find a barber at the last minute. His demeanor suddenly changed as a result and I was met with sulking and one word answers when he collected the children. Because things hadn't worked out for him, because I hadn't facilitated his hair cut or a last minute barber dash due to his own disorganisation, suddenly I was to blame afterall. Peter's parents have always organised everything for him all his life, before I came along and now here I was, not facilitating his lack of planning and organisation anymore. How dare I? 

That old familiar feeling of guilt started to creep in again and I had to remind myself that his hair is not my responsibility. It should never have been my responsibility. We are separated, why on earth would it be my responsibility now?! 

I ask myself what will become of Peter in his newly found discomfort? Will he give up? Will he find his motivation after all? Or will his parents swoop in and save him at some point? One thing I know for sure is that if I don't look out for myself and notice my own discomfort and unease, nobody will and it is time to accept that this is bound to come at the detriment of Peter and the cushioned life he knows so well.

I know that he will be livid with me on his return from the family trip. He'll hate to have attended the event without the front of the family man to bolster his image. Surrounded by families, it will be completely my fault that he has felt uncomfortable and missed having the children by his side. I sit here now, reminding myself that his discomfort is not my responsibility anymore. He could choose to take responsibility for his experience over the weekend, reflect on his behaviour and choices over the years which have put him in this position in the first place, but he won't do that. 

I sit tight, knowing that there'll be an underhanded punishment for me at some point and that his parents and sister will be fuelling his entitlement over the weekend. But, life could have been so much different had he have chosen to lovingly and assertively prioritise his family over just thinking of himself.

Different

I think part of me has always been attracted to "different." When I was younger, if everyone was watching a certain TV show, I used to avoid it, if everyone was wearing a certain type of fashion, you would have found me being very unapologetically last year. 

I realise that I was owning the fact that I just didn't fit in. What I know now is that I didn't fit in because my self esteem had been so brutally knocked by my abusive father and that he'd created an inferiority complex within me. I wondered whether I was autistic for a time, but I have been assured by professionals that I am not autistic, just traumatised. 

Things are different now, I happily watch the same popular TV shows as everyone else, knowing that I'm worthy of doing so. I can see that I'm worthy of fashion (not that I care for it now), friends and good people. Unfortunately, this wasn't the case when I met Peter; I still had a long way to go in my recovery from a dysfunctional, neglectful upbringing. 

Being attracted to "different," I became attracted to Peter. I even remember saying to a friend around that time, "I've always been a fan of the underdog." 

Today, Peter and I attended our childrens' sports day and I looked around at the other parents in the crowd:

-well groomed

-interested in what their kids were doing

-chatting amongst other parents

- reacting to highs and lows

-some were hand in hand with their partners

-some leaned in for the odd casual kiss

I looked back at Peter:

He was staring into the clouds, watching birds fluttering about in the sky, rocking back and forth on his heels, hands behind his back, shoulders hunched, his bobbled shirt hanging off his frame, his trousers frayed at the bottom, his overgrown mop of hair, unkempt and overgrown, frizzy and styleless. His eyes squinting in the bright light, no sunglasses, no hat. 

He looked so different to everyone else and we were behaving so differently. Me at one side of the finish line, camera in hand, knelt down ready to take an action shot, him at the other side, oblivious, disengaged, disinterested. I part of me felt pleased that he wasn't stood beside me.

That's when it occured to me, that I'd been expecting normality, when the life I had created with Peter has been very different because he is different. Here were all these married couples- full of joy, intrigue, gratitude, warmth. Peter and I, unmarried, on opposite ends of the finish line.

I looked around and thought of how much I deserved to be with the sort of husband who was cheering, chatting and dropping casual arms over their wives shoulders and then I looked back at Peter, swaying, squinting at clouds. Self assured in his oblivious daydream, before taking out his phone to take a photograph- no. To check his work email. I glanced over at our daughter and smiled at her, before she diverted her eyes to him, her smile fading slightly when he didn't reciprocate.

It's not me who she hugs so tightly and fiercely when it's time to leave, it's him. And I find myself wondering if she is starting to feel the difference too. 

A Delusional World

A trait I find most infuriating about Peter is the delusional bubble he's created for himself. He is an intelligent man who can problem solve successfully at work; who achieved straight As in his GCSEs; an encyclopaedia of facts and knowledge; a practical genius when it comes to mechanics, woodwork and engineering and someone who knows how to mask so brilliantly that he's described as a "gentle teddy bear" by his friends and work colleagues, despite being emotionally and mentally abusive towards me for years.

I realise wholeheartedly now that this is abuse. He is not setting out to hurt me, but to protect himself and his comfort at all costs, the consequence for me is abuse. And he doesn't care- this is enough abusive intention I now realise. To cushion himself, he has created false narratives throughout his life about people, situations, memories... He is actually so controlling of his surroundings, that he has decided subconsciously, what life ought to be like and how people ought to behave within the walls he's erected, so he pretends things are as he wishes them to be, denies anything where he feels discomfort in the truth. 

At some point, he has created the narrative that he's a good boy, always. This likely happened during childhood when he was praised for being "no trouble" as his mother often described to me. He was taught to dismiss and neglect his own needs and be good. As he's always been "good" he has never questioned his choices, omissions and behaviours towards me. In his mind, he is good no matter what. He is confined by the beliefs that his parenting and upbringing was good, that his parents continually "mean well" as he so regularly used to tell me. He admitted in relationship counselling recently that his mother was "controlling" which is a huge step for him, but these limiting beliefs have served as blockades to the truth all his life. 

He has been indoctrinated with the belief that it has been his job to serve and protect his sister. That she can never do wrong; in his eyes, she will always be a helpless, defenceless child. The baby he envisioned her as at 7 years old. I challenged this notion during relationship counselling and he became visibly uncomfortable in his seat before shaking his head and saying "no, no she has done nothing wrong, no." Almost as if he was trying to argue with his own doubts. The relationship counsellor was taken aback, it was clear to see. She has suggested he needs individual counselling and despite her being the second relationship counsellor to say this, he is still adamant that he does not require therapy. He will not pay attention to anything which does not serve or benefit him and individual counselling threatens his comfort far too much.

He has surrounded himself with toxicity in friendships and refuses to acknowledge that his best friend cheats on his wife. He tags along with groups of mysoginist males who exploit their co-workers and behave unprofessionally in a bid to be popular. The few times I have mentioned infidelity amongst his friendship group, I have been met by aggression and told not to ever mention this again.

 He sees that our eldest child has behavioural difficulties, he can accept this because she challenges HIM, but he refuses to acknowledge her likely neurodiversity as the reason why. He will not speak of or acknowledge the times our children have been in danger when they have become severely unwell and hospitalised or when a horrible accident almost occurred. He makes out that uncomfortable events never happened. The problem with that is, he can never learn from them. 

His world is suppressed by idealisms and when someone in his life (me) challenges those idealisms, I guess he begins to see me as dangerous. My "outing" of our relationship troubles have destabilised him, I have threatened the perfect family image that he has created, which I actively and miserably participated in for far too long. He is proud of his image. But images aren't real.

The people he surrounds himself with who picture him as the "teddybear" see me as callous, unhinged, cruel and delusional because the masked version of him does not fit my narrative. He basks in these perceptions and they continue to feed his false reality. 

"I am a good boy." 

Good boys don't behave aggressively to the women they love for merely showing emotions, opinions or preferences. Good boys don't tell the mother of their children that she's asking for too much or imagining her heartache. They don't take advantage of her time and energy. They don't withdraw affection and attention and focus solely on themselves. They don't punish her for being unwell. They don't treat her as an inconvenience when she needs him. They don't walk away so easily. They don't feel ashamed of her for going against the status quo and speaking out about societal  inequality. They don't speak about her character negatively with other men. They don't tell her that other wives are better and more tolerant than she is. They don't trust other people over her. They don't choose other people over her. They don't allow their families to actively or passive aggressively disparage their wives. They don't treat her with disrepespect and allow others to.

Delusion is the culprit for every problem, perception or opinion being denied which does not match up with their desired view of themselves and the world around them. But without delusion, how would they live with themselves and who they really are? Who are they?

Did I ever know him? 

Peter Pan

"Peter" isn't his real name; it's an alias, should this blog ever end up in the wrong hands, however I find it apt that my Dad refers to him as "Peter Pan." Although my Dad also is a bit of a hypocrit considering his own history of fathering. 

But, I can't help but agree with my Dad, Peter really is the boy who never grew up.

The man who can not separate himself from his family of origin, who feels personal insult when their hurtful, toxic behaviour is flagged up. I imagine I'd have felt the same way up until my late teens, should someone have flagged up my own parents' crappy behaviour. But as adults, we are supposed to evolve, see things at a distance; detach. Acknowledge short comings. Peter can't do it. He's so personally insulted by any form of criticism towards any of his FOO. He is emotionally enmeshed.

This is a man who calls his Dad, not for advice on what to spend his money on, but instruction. A man who could not erect boundaries around his mother's interferences in our finances- "she means well," too frightened to tell her no. Scrambling for excuses. Allowing her to reek havoc over his new family, the young mother of his child. Too scared to speak up.

Interesting that any well meaning intentions I have are lost on him because he doesn't have the same innate loyalty to me. And this is the problem, his loyalty to the FOO is innate, like a child's loyalty to their parents before they've developed a wider view of the world. 

I kicked Peter out, he moved in with his parents in November and I have asked for us to work through our issues atleast twice now with a view to him coming home. He says "ok" but isn't doing any work at all. He tells me that he feels he could continue living with his parents indefinitely should he need to, being a part-time Disney Dad to our own kids, but I shouldn't confuse that with the idea that he may be finding life easier... because it's hard for him apparently!! Whilst his parents have in no way supported us to stay together, only driven wedges between us, they have happily supported him to leave his family and live with them. His mother irons his work shirts, he uses his Dad's boot polish to clean his work shoes, he lives there rent free, he keeps his racing car in their garage and he can potter around with engines to his heart's desire. He can go running along the bridle path which runs alongside their house whenever he wishes, sit in their palatial garden in the sunshine and not have to worry about any emerging weeds or overgrown lawns. He doesn't have to battle dressing little children, teeth brushing, meal times, reading, spellings on a daily basis. He is able to revert back to his teenage self and his parents enable it happily. 

 He's happier now that he can dip in and out of responsibility and enjoy the fun of parenting, without the daily stress, worry or demand. His defence is "well you kicked me out," similar to how a child might respond. He takes zero responsibility and throws all blame at my door. His vibe has changed, he's free, lighter, more energetic and a much better Dad at a distance than a fully invested one. My Life Coach compared him to a helpful grandparent "at best" during our last appointment. 

I often wonder if he lies awake at night thinking of our children tucked up in their beds with him unable to protect them at night, then I remind myself, probably not. 

He tries to justify his negative feelings towards things I've said and done by quoting his friends a lot, " even two of my friends are shocked that you said X." A bit like a child might say to a friend on the school playground "I told my mummy what you said and she thinks you're mean!" He values male opinion above mine always. He has an innate arrogance and mysoginy as he tries to blindly fit in with anyone he perceives as popular or of a higher social status. Challenging the status quo would always be beneath him, because he strives only to fit in.

I see him doing the "pick me" dance in an effort to be liked and selected by his group of friends. Mr agreeable. Him apologising profusely to strangers for merely taking up space in shops and in busy places, desperate to be liked by anyone. 

The sulking and silent treatment he would give me for robbing him of his fun should I have inconvenienced him by falling ill, preventing him from hobbying in return for childcare. The way he used to whisper the word "sex" as if he'd said something naughty. His ongoing virginity until the age of 32. Sex for him is observing other people do it, as if he hadn't matured enough to partake in adult enjoyment. 

A child in a man's body. 

He did a good job at pretending though, I even remember a mutual colleague once saying to me "I wish my husband was as manly as Peter, at times he acts like a child, Peter is so much more mature."

Peter was not more mature than her husband, he was less so. Peter has fooled people into thinking he's a mature handy man because he can fix physical objects, we seem to think that only mature men fix stuff (how bizarre) but emotionally, Peter is a child. Incapacitated by something, whether it be ASD, trauma or covert narcissism, there is a "disconnection" as a relationship counsellor once described to us, that I'm not sure can ever be fixed. 

I can see that part of Peter wants to return home to us, but I watch him now enjoying his freedom and I know he wouldn't ever come back before he's had the opportunity to enjoy a free summer. A summer holiday free of parenting, free of expectation, free of unnecessary, unwanted intimate connection. A summer full of hobbies, nights out with friends and the odd day of playing Disney Dad to his beautiful children who deserve so much more. And a summer free of a demanding Me, a committed, sensual, warm, loving woman, who I'm slowly realising, deserves much more than a lousy Peter Pan character of a man. 

From Special Interest to Sinister Interest

Peter and I attended relationship counselling this week, which was awful. 

I tried explaining how I felt Peter had allowed his family to contribute to the demise of our relationship through interferences, calculative behaviour and through their endeavour to cause me continued discomfort. Peter mocked, scorned and belittled all my feelings and experiences, refusing to see any issues in anyone's behaviour other than mine.

It has been very clear that his mother has discarded me in the last 2 years as she has repeatedly blanked me; brought individual meals for Peter and nothing for myself and the children and rudely refused to listen to anything I had to say. Interestingly, she continued to boast about herself endlessly and tell me how "inspirational" she is, creating the impression that I ought to think she is too. Happy to speak to me only if the topic of conversation was about her perceived achievements. She is a classic narcissist, ticking every single box. 

This blanking behaviour followed several years of intense interferences and interests in myself and my own family of origin. She was particularly interested in my parents' property following their divorce and in their division of finances. 

In the beginning of our relationship she was obsessed in our finances, even rearranging our mortgage appointment without our permission to a day that she could attend also! I was furious. She wanted to control the way our first child was raised and Peter wanted to allow it as if he felt some strange obligation to her. He never once questioned her behaviour.  She would regularly suggest I tie my hair up, complain about me waking the baby for feeds with passive aggressive remarks to my baby "isn't mummy naughty, waking you again..." she complained she was cold, she was dehydrated, she needed a break from baby groups, she wasn't seeing her enough, messages at night and once, a very unexpected phone call in the middle of the night.  It was harassment; myself and my baby were her special interest and it was draining. 

It's clear that I became a sinister interest towards the end- a target to be made to feel unwelcomed and uncomfortable. I'd upset her by erecting boundaries and she didn't like it; she became snidey in her approach towards me. Peter's sister then joined in too. It's difficult not to find it a coincidence when both women fail to wish you a happy birthday on the same year. Peter's sister had alway seemed a little hyper-focused on me at first. I was highly independent, I'd had to be growing up with a difficult, angry father, she was the opposite- hopelessly dependent on her mother and father and even Peter. Even now, at almost 40 years old, she has not detached emotionally from them at all and seems to call on their father continually for practical help.

She was amazed that I could cook and bake and make things, garden, paint... She made a big deal of it all through extravagant compliments. She was hyper-focused on me and particularly my weight; always telling me I'd lost weight whilst looking me up and down, even when I hadn't. Her behaviour was creepy. I just thought she was overly friendly- although I felt from the very beginning that this was insincere and for whatever reason, it made me feel uncomfortable. 

Then something changed. 

She began contradiciting me a lot, disagreeing for the sake of it. I remember her disagreeing that single mothers found it tough financially- her asserting that they had lots of money through benefits and maintenance payments- she KNEW all about this apparently.

I stopped posting anything at all in the family whatsapp group because if I said black, she said white. Anything as simple as "doesn't daughter 1 look grown up today." 

"Oh no she's still got her baby face."

It was constant little things. 

Peter allowed it to play out without saying anything.

 Another time, we were discussing my brother's ex wife who (I now know) she had been meeting up with secretly, and she disagreed with my observation that she had mental health concerns at the time. When Peter entered the room and clarified my observations to his sister, her demeanour changed immediately "oh, really Peter! What a shame!" Why was my reality being persistently denied? Peter's wasn't. Why did she keep challenging me the way she did?

I began to shrink.

His mother was blanking my presence. Even on mother's day and special occasions, infact particularly on these occasions. His sister was now antagonising me with contradictions at every opportunity so I decided it safer to say nothing. But this was seemingly what they wanted- me to be smaller, I distanced myself more and more and only attended events that other, wider family members were attending.

Then one day, I got a notification of a comment on my feminism blog. Someone had anonymously posted a long rant about how mothers shouldn't complain about the difficulties of working part time and mothering after having children. They "chose" to work part-time to raise their babies and should be grateful! It was naive, judgemental and ignorant. I knew immediately who it was. She'd made comments to a similar effect a few weeks previously. I didn't respond but decided to write another blog post.

I posted again, but limited the viewers when sharing it on social media to her and a few of my most supportive friends who are othe same mindset. The rant came again so I knew it was her. 

I deleted her comments and pretended I didn't know it was her. I knew what I was dealing with. She was targeting me and my blog. Why? I don't know. I'd gone from a special interest to a sinister interest over night. The fact that she was yet to even experience having children and she was casting these assertions felt highly personal. I'd dedicated my life to becoming a mum. How dare she challenge my experience of it? No wonder she'd had to do so under a crafty alias.

Then, a year or so later, she openly posted a long ranty essay on my FB page for all to see, which further confirmed that she was my anonymous poster. This was following a post I shared which was linked to an article about women's professional sports and supporting mothers to continue their sporting careers post- children. I hadn't read the article fully- I was just interested in this part of the post here:

It was a light hearted share, I never even commented or shared an opinion on it on posting. She then went to town on all the reasons mothers can not partake in professional sports post-children and all her issues with the article which was attached to this post by Pregnant and Screwed. 

I responded that the above paragraph is why I'd shared the post. "You're missing the point" she wrote...all on my social media page for all to see. "I love a good debate" she said. I didn't. I'd just lightheartedly shared a positive post about supporting mums better and here I was feeling attacked and targeted yet again by needless contradiction and what felt like, antagonistic needling. 

I pointed her in the direction of a feminist support group which I'd been part of as I felt she needed to begin seeing things from a more feminist perspective. I had previously posted in the group myself about issues around Peter and there were historical posts about his mother's innate mysoginy. There was nothing for her to see initially though- she would have had to do a quick search to find anything I'd written within the group. I did look over my posts prior to her joining the group and decided that although she might have felt a bit irritated if she'd read them by searching my name, they were factual atleast and she could just confront me about them if needs be.

However, she didn't confront me when she decided to search my name in the group to scoop dirt on me within minutes of joining, she screenshot my posts and shared them with her parents. She knew very well that Peter's mum and I had a rocky relationship and she chose to fan the flames. Not only this, but she obsessively proceeded to screenshot anonymous posts which had not been written by me, claiming them to be mine and continued to share them. They were all in on it. All of them believed her; even Peter. They weren't my posts!! If you ever needed an example of a flying monkey, it's right here.

This led to me kicking Peter out the night he confronted me about these screenshotted posts, which had been discussed for weeks. He didn't want to question his sister's motives; he didn't care that she'd targeted me yet again- or didn't believe it. I was to blame for everything.

And that's how I went from being a special interest of an ASD family to a sinister interest. In the very beginning I saw red flags- I found them creepy, nosey, too interested, too invested in me somehow. 

The first time I met his mother, I questioned ending my relationship with Peter as she talked about how a previous ex boyfriend of Peter's sister had obtained 50% of the deposit that SHE had put down on their house when they separated and sold it. She was reeling from it and proceeded to tell me how she'd invested the same deposit in Peter's house, followed by a long, hard stare. A warning! There were high expectations of family holidays (which I thankfully never agreed to), visits, calls, lowered boundaries. I felt closely observed, watched and interrogated. His parents even holidayed out of season, at the exact spanish location that I'd lived in two years previously within weeks of meeting them.

I felt like I was on trial. That's how you feel when you're surrounded by this dynamic. An interloper who entered the family fold and studied like some sort of rare, foreign species and then discarded and tormented for a twisted pleasure or just to make them feel better for their own short comings. 

And Peter has allowed it all to happen. 

Of course he has.

Because he's one of them. He is a product of that dysfunction; why do I expect him to be any different?

It hurts a lot that Peter has never seen my side of things, or wanted to. For someone who supposedly has very little empathy, he's able to empathise with and excuse his mother and sister's behaviour on a regular basis. It makes me wonder, why me? My confidence and self esteem is knocked by the feeling of being the bad guy, because he CAN do empathy... I've seen it. 

But, I know deep down, to my distress and disappointment, it's because he's one of them. And I will always be the interloper who held up far too many mirrors. 

I wish he'd just hit me

This is the line I said to my counsellor yesterday.

Last week I had a full-blown mental health crisis following a conversation with Peter, whereby the mutual agenda of the conversation was completely over-thrown by his own uncommunicated purpose.

I was then met with pedantics, accusations, gaslighting, had the tables turned on me and I was completely and utterly confused at the direction that the conversation took. We should literally have been talking about a way forward with regards to the separation and instead, another agenda was brought into play and decisions given to me, then taken away from me, then denial that he had taken them away from me.

Afterwards, I brought the pre-agreed mutual agenda back into play and I was left heart broken by his response, which he then revoked and denied saying yet again. 

Our relationship has been hanging in the balance following on from discussions around whether or not we had anything to salvage after we spent two nights together recently. He did not want to discuss this and instead, his agenda had been forced upon him and us by his family of origin and their pressurised expectations. However, I could not give him a decision until we had discussed the future of our relationship; it would be impossible even, but he had pigeon holed the two agendas and demanded my response first, proclaiming them to be completely unrelated. Amazing how assertive he can be when under the pressure and influence of The FOO.

I was given the option of attending a family wedding three hours away, then not given the option, then given it again with conditions to accompany the children with him. The conditions were to go but remain invisible in the hotel room during the wedding itself, to go unnoticed so not to upset his narcissistic mother and deranged sister. 

It all made perfect sense to Peter. 

He was amazed at my upset reaction. 

"I have no idea why you're so upset" he retaliated with an exasperated huff. I explained until I was blue in the face but Peter didn't WANT to understand and this is key with these men. They don't seek to understand anything which they perceive as an inconvenience to them personally. Like toddlers, they have to get their own way.

He left after asking me for a hug and me telling him absolutely not and there had been no solutions, no discussion really, no understandings. Nothing. I sat in silence for around 30 minutes after he left, just staring into space in disbelief at this man who clearly feels no emotional responsibility to me whatsoever. The conversational tactics that I had been at the receiving end of were also, undoubtedly narcissistic tools. 

My head felt like mush.

And when I went to bed, I lay awake stressing over a single word that he had used which he said I'd repeated wrongly during our discussion. He accused me of "initiating" our rekindled relationship over recent weeks and I had used "instigated" instead when I repeated his words back to him. This gave him a foundation for factual denial at ever having accused me of being the instigator of our rekindled feelings for each other. And yet, this man had been reaching out to me for weeks: touching me, saying nice things, cups of tea, hugs. But because I gave in and allowed him to stay over, he was now blaming me and basically implying that any confusing feelings we both have now are my fault. It was awful. He obviously realised that this was wrong half way through his horrendous accusation and was able to backtrack and deny based on me using the wrong word very slightly when repeated back to him. Like mental monopoly.

What happened next was a huge dip in my state of wellbeing and mental health. Two days later, I was unable to function, unable to leave my bed, unable to tend to my children and in a very low, depressed and volatile state. Peter came over to make breakfast for the children and I alluded to him that I did not wish to be here anymore. He said nothing, seemed inconvenienced by my dysfunctional state and called his dad to take the children to school before going in to work as normal. I went back to bed. He never messaged to check in on me during the day; he showed zero concern. I imagine he worked with very little thought for me that day, probably had his usual coffee break in the tea room with his usual crowd, laughing at the usual jokes. Great guy, Peter. Always likes a laugh. Poor guy though, his missus, chucking him out like that. What a bitch. The crazy bitch wh was off sick from work with a broken heart and depression whilst he carried on as normal.

After calling my mum for help, I was seen by the mental health team. They advised space from Peter to enable the confusing thoughts in my mind to calm. I called Peter to tell him that he was not to enter my space anymore to see the children, that he is only to see the children at his parents' house. I've wanted to avoid this outcome because of his mother's nasty influence on my daughter, but I reached a point where I didn't really have a choice. 

He has since mocked the words of the professionals "well you need space from me don't you, the PROFESSIONALS said, didn't they?" He repeats to me in a condescending tone. My counsellor told me he's doing that through anger and she said to me. 

"From the behaviour you describe in him, his reactions towards you, he's a very, very angry man."

This hadn't occurred to me and yet it made perfect sense. Of course he is. That's his whole fucking problem isn't it?

He's an angry man. 

Angry for all the wrong reasons which is why he uses passive aggressive behaviour instead: mocking, condescending, gaslighting. He is angry when things don't go his way. 

And that's when I said to her:

"I wish he'd just hit me."

She nodded and said "yeh, I completely understand." Because instead we're dealing with secretive, vindictive, snidey, underhand, manipulative abuse which is silent and hides beneath the kind, gentle exterior that they present to everyone else. 

I wish he'd leave a mark on my skin, so that I can see the abuse, because then, what is there to question? 

I'm feeling much better after a week of space from him and his mind fuckery. I have been able to enjoy the simple things in life over the last few days: walks, a swim, music, TV. So I know I'm on the mend. But I also know that there are still conversations to be had and I dread them. When communication is used as a foundation for mental and emotional abuse, it leaves us extremely limited and nothing is able to move forward without further risk to our sense of wellbeing. We mustn't ever underestimate the impact of this abuse.