I suppose I got into a relationship with Ethan for two main
reasons 1) he grounded me and looked after me and was reliable and strong at a
time when I didn't otherwise have those things in my life and 2) I felt I could
help him in the areas where he obviously struggled.
It was clear to me quite early on that Ethan had trouble
connecting with other people, engaging socially and understanding social
situations and cues. But I wasn’t aware of Ethan’s Aspergers until much, much
later by which time we were married and had children. The relationship was
difficult. We were so different. He frustrated and embarrassed me frequently. I
remember being almost as struck with anxiety
as he was before a night out, nervously hoping that this night he would make
the effort , that he’d speak to people, that he wouldn’t behave like a
miserable git that no-one wanted to be around! I think that was one of the
biggest issues early on: that his behaviour and the lack of effort he made with
people just made him appear miserable and rude. And why would I want to be with
someone like that? We spent a lot of time arguing about how he came across at social
occasions and how I’d feel let down by him. Looking back, it must have been
hugely frustrating and lonely for him – seeing me breezing about easily
chatting to everyone on a night out and knowing that the fact he couldn’t do
this – that he could barely hear people and didn’t know how to talk to them –
would result in me being angry and upset with him later and there was nothing
he could do about it. But at the time, it was inconceivable to me that someone
couldn’t learn how to speak to other people and when my efforts at tutoring him
in the art of sociability didn’t work, I just saw it as him choosing to be inherently
rude and unsociable. A few times we nearly split up – I called off our first
engagement. But somehow we stayed together. I think I saw myself as being the
person who could change him, who could transform his life and outlook. I’ve
always been a sucker for people that ‘need’ me! The other, more positive,
factor though is that his unique blend of traits bought with it some
characteristics that I found really attractive. In one sense he was hard work
but in another, he was really easy. He didn’t want to go out all the time, he
wasn’t out with his mates neglecting me in the evenings, he didn’t go to
football all day on Saturdays (since then, I’ve realised that he has simply
replaced football/sport with his computer!), he was content with me – just me.
And being with him was easy – he didn’t talk a lot, I didn’t have to make the
effort with him all the time, I could be grumpy and monosyllabic and he didn’t
mind. He was always there, always faithful and loyal, always on my side and
very rarely complained about any aspect of me – the fact that he was so quiet
and simple and stable anchored my flitting, emotional, busy, complicated life. Still
today, I am grateful for his simplistic outlook, his unswerving support of me
and his plodding faithfulness.
I suppose I thought the big things – his loyalty, his
dedication, his hard work, his love for me, his commitment – were worth more
than him being able to socialise or being positive. I grew to need him, however
much he infuriated me.
Our relationship and subsequent marriage has never been
easy. In the early years I often fantasised about divorce. I felt lonely often,
despite being surrounded by friends, and was regularly frustrated, hurt, angry
and disappointed by him and his reactions to situations. I spent years trying
to artificially carve out friendships for him which never amounted to anything.
I suppose I felt I needed my decision to be with Ethan endorsed by the fact
that other people wanted to be with him too. The fact he had no real friends
was a constant reminder to me that he was just not a likeable person, which just
reinforced my doubts as to why I was with him.
Since Ethan has been diagnosed with Aspergers though and I’ve
learnt about and understood the syndrome, life together has got better; good
even. I no longer try to turn him into something he can’t be which means we’re
both less frustrated. We’ve, almost without realising it, made concessions and
compromises in our lives that make space for the other person and their needs
and, I must credit Ethan here, he has changed. I couldn’t see it while it was happening
– it wasn’t happening quickly enough or in the right direction but, looking
back to our first years of marriage, he is so much more sociable. He’s learnt tactics
for monitoring his behaviour and, although it’ll never come naturally, he’s learning
to adapt to circumstances and other people’s needs. He’s even made some friends!
It’s been a rocky, sometimes painful road. But I’ve learnt
so much about myself and discovered that I’m married to a unique, complex,
incredibly loyal and faithful man who never gives up on us despite the fact that
life and relationships are so hard for him. I guess any marriage – any joining
together of two totally separate individuals with different hopes, dreams and personalities
– is going to be hard. In the end I think it boils down to whether the two of
you are prepared to make it work, however much that demands of you. We both
needed to be willing to change – not the essence of who we were but how we
behaved and reacted, and we both needed to be willing to have our views,
perceptions and expectations of life fine-tuned by the other.
As I write this, Ethan is making me a bacon sandwich before
heading off to work for ten hours in the gloom and rain of the day. And he
knows, as he does that, that I’m writing this blog post about how flipin’ difficult
he is! He is, at heart, a kind and loving man. I’m a lucky woman.