My husband and I had a great conversation yesterday about how to integrate autism into our lives.

The conversation began as a way of strategizing how I can best handle my husband’s absence when he travels. As we discussed the issue, a light went on, and I realized something very important: I still see my husband’s neuro-typical way of dealing with the world as “normal.” And for years, I’ve tried to emulate him. 

And why not? After all, what’s not to like? He’s very diplomatic. He’s very sociable and enjoys talking with people, as long as there is some actual content to the discussion. He has a very serene way about him, even though on the inside, he doesn’t always feel that way. He’s loving, he’s flexible in his thinking, and he knows how to walk away from a situation without telling everyone how wrong they are.

And me? Diplomacy? Oh, goodness. To give you an example of my diplomatic skills: One day, as we were standing on our porch, we saw one of our new neighbors go the wrong way on our one-way street. I immediately assumed that she’d done it on purpose. Bob thought that because she’s new, she’d probably forgotten about how the traffic flows. Anyway, I freaked out about it, because all I could think of was my daughter driving home and finding my neighbor’s truck coming at her. Once an image comes into my mind, it’s very difficult to forget.

So, I asked my husband if he’d speak with our neighbor about it. He said he would, but because he hadn’t met her yet, he wanted to introduce himself, have a friendly conversation, and then remind her about which way the traffic goes. So, each day, I’d say, “Did you talk to her yet?” And he’d say, “Well, she hasn’t been at home when I’m at home, but I’m looking for the opportunity.”

After a few days of this routine, I started to get really impatient and said, “Why don’t you just go down the street and tell her not to drive the wrong way?” 

He laughed and said, “Look, I have my own way of doing things. I’m not going to do it your way: Hi, I’m Rachel. F**k you.”

I laughed, because I know what he means. I don’t generally say the F-word to people, but I know that I come across as though I do. To tell you the truth, I don’t really understand how that can be. I’m just a little intense, you know? I don’t do the social dance that comes before the content. I just start with the content, keep going with the content, and finish with the content. People seem to take it personally. Who knows why?

For years, I’ve been trying to figure out how to do these sort of things differently. I’ve been trying to emulate my husband in all kinds of situations. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve tried to emulate every friend, every partner, and every colleague I’ve ever had. The other person is substantial and inherently worthy, and my job is to get into sync with all that substance and inherent worthiness.

Not surprisingly, it leaves me feeling like a second-class citizen.

So, as we were talking yesterday, I realized that I don’t have to emulate anyone. My autistic perspective is just as valid as any other. My autistic way of going about my daily life is just as worthy as any other. My autism has to have a full and equal place at the table, every day. I cannot shove it into a corner. Why? Because it’s a pervasive condition. It’s already in every corner.

So here’s how bringing autism into the center of our lives helped us deal with the issue of my husband’s travels: Every couple of weeks, my husband goes down to New York for a few days to see his dad. He generally leaves on the same day that my daughter goes to her father’s house. It’s a very big, difficult adjustment for me to be here without them, but I slip into my Aspie hyper-focus at some point and dwell there in solitude. Then, after a couple of days, my husband comes home, and I feel like I’m just supposed to drop everything I’m doing, ask him about his trip, and somehow enter the land of “normal” again.

And, the truth is, I want to be flexible and drop everything. But my brain doesn’t work that way. If he gets home and I’m working on a project, I can’t just drop it. Clearly, I can put something down and keep my hands from moving, but in my brain, I’m still working on the project, and it hurts to be in two places at the same time.

It’s been difficult for my husband to leave me at home when he goes to New York. He feels very torn. I totally support him going to see his dad, and he knows it, but he also knows how difficult it is for me to adjust to his absence. And I feel torn as well.

I finally realized that the way to free both of us from this conundrum was to let him know that the only thing that’s more difficult than adjusting to his absence is having to do a quick turn and re-adjust to his presence.

So, I told him that when he comes home, it’s important that he realize that I’m on my own schedule and in my own rhythm. It will take me a while to finish whatever I’m doing. It’s really important for both of us to remember that our brains work very differently, and that I take a long time to do transitions.

The fact is that I’m very happy when my husband comes home. His presence is so comforting and so reassuring. But I still need to wind down from Aspie solitude into our Aspie-NT relationship. Once I wind down, I can go downstairs, and we can be together, each of us in our own experience.

Now, that’s something to look forward to.

© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg