We’re back – in one piece. If not mentally then at least
physically!
I’d forgotten /blotted out from my memory how difficult
family holidays can be with an Aspergic partner and parent.
In some ways, Ethan was the perfect companion – he did all
the driving in France, programmed the sat nav so we never got lost, put together
an itinerary in a shiny red ring-binder and organised the passports, insurance
and euros. However, as a holiday companion to have fun with, relax with,
socialise with he was, well, rather lacking.
This holiday was peppered with the frustrations, arguments,
disappointments and exasperation that I should have known would be inevitable. We
were living in close proximity (a tent) with three young children for ten days.
It was like being at home – and then some!
Things that should have been fun and relationship-building
(Ethan having a game of pool with Sam and Oliver) turned into heated arguments
and sullen moods (Ethan got moody and detached when six-year-old Sam and four-year-old
Oliver didn’t show enough enthusiasm for learning the proper rules and
techniques of pool and wanted to do what all little boys want to do and whack
the balls their own haphazard way – Ethan refused to play anymore). He bubbled
over angrily with me as we were surrounded by happy, relaxed holiday-makers because
I’d inadvertently turned my phone’s cellular access on and cost us – wait for
it...£1.60. It wasn’t the expense that bothered him so much as the fact he’d
told me not to turn it on. I’d broken his rule. It was too much. I’d reached saturation point.
I swore at him and stomped off angrily. I was conscious that nine-year-old Ava
was at the site’s pool party and was due to get out in the next ten minutes and
needed at least one of us around. ‘But sod it,’ I thought, ‘he can take
responsibility for once.’ It did cross my mind, briefly, that he might overlook
the fact Ava would be getting out of the pool any minute, but I pushed the
thought away – no, we’d been at the bar right next to the pool before I stomped
off, he’d watched Ava play in the pool through the railings, we’d talked about
the fact the party finished at 9.30pm. I carried on stomping and fantasised
about divorce.
By 9.40pm I was calmer. I was starting to come around to the
idea of working things out rather than throwing things (him) out. As I turned
the corner though, I spotted Ethan, without Ava, casually taking photos of the
river. The fury rose up in me like lava. I ran past him, reminding him of how
useless and selfish he was as I went, and found Ava five minutes later cold,
shivering and crying as she wandered around the campsite in her swimming
costume in the dark wondering where her parents were.
Every emotion in me towards Ethan was negative at that
moment: anger, disappointment, frustration, hurt, loneliness, despair...but, as
I wrote this entry, we were travelling home together. A family, if not in
harmony, at least intact. I think that’s probably the best we can hope for.
The rest of the holiday, like life, was mixed. There were
some lovely times – like Ethan playing frisbee and catch with the boys outside
the tent; A family game of football; A sociable day out at a theme park with a
couple of other families. There were also some other really difficult moments
when Ethan became stressed and overwhelmed or zoned out. There was an awful
moment when he ran over Ava’s foot with a hand-pushed rollercoaster cart and,
when she started screaming about her foot, told her ‘I don’t care’. The result
was her screaming louder that she didn’t like him, how he was selfish and
horrible – all in front of the other families we were with. A few minutes later
when things were calming down, Ethan came over to ‘apologise’ to Ava except
that his apology was ‘Why aren’t you wearing some decent shoes?’ Needless to
say, another eruption (from me) followed.
Overall though, I think something shifted in me during the
holiday. I realised – really realised - that, most of the time, he really doesn’t
mean to sound the way he does, react the way he does or say what he does. That
he spent most of the holiday feeling stressed, overwhelmed, over-stimulated,
confused, tired and trapped. No chance of escape, not chance of downtime, not
much sleep, none of the usual coping mechanisms of the computer/Iphone/TV and
the relentlessness of people all around him every second of the day and night
and the expectation on him to play the part of happy, sociable, fun father and
husband. He just couldn’t do it. It did make me wonder whether holidays should
exist specifically for families with an Aspergers parent in the mix. Everyone would
know the score, there’d be more grace extended (in my imaginings) and space
made for the Aspergers partner to have time alone – or maybe plugged into a
technology booth onsite – while events were organised for the rest of the
family. There’d be support from families for each other, and no one would stare
or judge when arguments erupted. Maybe there’s an opening there...
Glad you all survived and made it back in one piece! Although we are not on a holiday, we are living overseas for a year, totally out of our normal routine and we seem very prone to similar difficulties-living in closer quarters with an Aspie inevitably leads to more conflict and meltdowns. If I have to hear him yell at our exuberant daughter one more time to "Be quiet, for heavens sake..." I just might shove earplugs in his ears and tell him to deal. It's not really much different than regular home time, just more pronounced since we spend way more (too much in my humble opinion) time together. He frequently complains it seems like we don't care about him-which isn't true, we do love him, but I find it so much easier to detach a good bit to avoid conflicts and pointless arguments with him. Sigh. Didn't mean to gripe-glad your vacation had some happy moments-that's a win in my opinion in an Aspie marriage.
ReplyDeleteHi Diana,
DeleteYep, time apart is definitely one of the survival tactics for an Aspergers/neuro-typical marriage, I've found!
Hope you're finding some time to relax and do things for you on your year abroad. Hang in there. It's worth the fight!