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Scratch the surface of the professional literature about autism and Asperger syndrome and you will soon find that communication difficulties of one kind or another play a very central role in the diagnosis. Needless to say, therefore, that communication problems may be just about the most trying diffculty in any Asperger marriage. This is certainly true in our case.
First of all, it’s worth making the point that interpersonal and written communication are two very different things. Beside myself I know at least one other person with AS whose spoken communication is characteristic in its lack of variety and range of expression, but when this same person puts pen to paper or keyboard to email, then you would never be able to tell. This may be a useful thing to remember if you can get your AS partner to sit down with a pen in the first place! I have to confess that making the initial effort to sit down and write, and the prospect of having to put something down on paper are far harder than the process itself, despite the fact that Gisela has encouraged, prompted, cajoled and bullied me into telling her how I feel in writing, given that I seem to find it so hard face to face. So I will say this for my own benefit as well as for any readers: I know somewhere at the back of my mind that any communication is better than none.
If you’re thinking something along the lines of “Why can’t (s)he just talk to me,” then you are not alone. Unfortunately this question is never going to be answered if you ask it in that way. There have been so many occasions when I have just not known how to respond to something.
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For me, one of the most frustrating aspects of our marriage has been the impossibility of discussion of any issue that may be at all emotive. Typically, problems would arise when I wanted to raise a point over something that Chris had done or not done.
The first time this happened was only three months after we had moved in together. Chris was supposed to pick me up in the afternoon from hospital after a minor operation for which I had had a general anaesthetic. He didn’t arrive. Not only was I upset, but I grew increasingly embarrassed, as the nurse kept returning to see if I had at last been picked up. Taking a taxi was not an alternative, because the hospital was insistent that I be accompanied on the journey home by a friend or relative.
Eventually I rang Chris at work, and to my astonishment he was still there long after I should have been collected. He had been unable to bring himself to explain to his manager that he would like to leave to pick me up, and had been hoping to slip out without being noticed. I was very upset and pretty angry. Surely I was more important than a temporary embarrasment. Chris arrived, and I hoped for an apology and some concern for how I felt physically and emotionally, but far from it. He seemed cross and I became more and more cross myself. We drove home in silence, and Chris remained silent even after we arrived home. I saw to the supper for all of us, which made me even more unhappy and resentful. (There is nothing like self-pity and a sense of injustice to bring out the worst in me!)
Finally, six hours later, after some more “probing” on my part, he said angrily that there was nothing he could say, and he was angry at himself for letting me down. But until then he had said nothing. His obvious regret was more than enough to make me feel better, and I was just sad that both of us had gone through six hours of misery. He has subsequently said that saying sorry in such a situation is hopelessly inadequate, when of course saying nothing is so much worse. And I know that, for me, a genuine “Sorry” and gesture of affection goes a very long way.
Chris seems to think that I resurrect this incident because I’m still angry about it, but he is very wrong. I look back at it and remember it as one of those times that he ultimately let me realise how much I matter to him.
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