I’m not gonna lie. I’m pissed off. There’s no way to sugarcoat it. After years of fighting, walking on eggshells, and feeling like I was losing my mind, we finally got an answer: Autism Spectrum Disorder, Level 1.
It should’ve been a relief, right? I finally had an explanation for why he’s the way he is—for the endless arguments, his refusal to take accountability, and his obsession with being right about everything. But instead of feeling relief, all I feel is rage.
For years, I tried so hard to make this marriage work. I read books about communication, swallowed my pride to apologize when I wasn’t even in the wrong, and bent over backward to avoid triggering yet another fight. I twisted myself into knots trying to explain my feelings in a way he could understand, but no matter what I said, he always had a counterargument. It was exhausting.
Now, I’m supposed to believe he didn’t mean to hurt me? That all the defensiveness, the shutting me down, the dismissing my emotions—it wasn’t personal? That it’s just “how his brain works”?
Well, it felt personal. It still does.
The diagnosis hit me like a freight train. On one hand, it explains so much. The constant need to be in control, the way he latches onto his point of view like a dog with a bone, the complete lack of empathy when I’m hurting—all of it makes sense now. But knowing doesn’t make it easier.
Because here’s the thing: I’ve been living in this storm for years. The emotional toll has been enormous. I’ve spent so many nights crying myself to sleep after yet another argument, wondering why he couldn’t just hear me for once. And now I’m supposed to just accept that it’s not his fault?
Honestly, I don’t know if I can.
What I do know is that I’m tired of being the one who has to adapt all the time. For years, I’ve carried the weight of this marriage on my shoulders. I’ve put my needs aside, made excuses for him, and tried to believe things would get better. But I’m done pretending this is okay.
The support groups have been a mixed bag for me. Some women in neurodiverse relationships seem to find peace in understanding their husbands better, but I’m not there yet. I’m too angry to let him off the hook like that. When they talk about “accepting the differences” or “adjusting expectations,” I want to scream. Why should I have to adjust? Why should he get a free pass for behavior that’s so hurtful?
I don’t want to be this bitter, but I can’t help it. Every time I look at him, I feel like he’s taken something from me—my trust, my sense of safety, my ability to be vulnerable. I don’t even know who I am anymore outside of trying to manage him.
The worst part is that he doesn’t seem to get it. When I try to talk about how I’m feeling, he argues with me, like this is some kind of debate. He says things like, “I didn’t mean it that way,” or “You’re reading too much into it,” as if that makes everything okay. He doesn’t understand that it’s not about his intentions—it’s about the effect all of this has on me.
Right now, I feel stuck in this marriage. Stuck between wanting to run away and wanting to fix what feels so messed up. People keep telling me to take it one day at a time, but honestly, some days it’s hard to care.
I wish I had something hopeful to say here, but I don’t. The only thing keeping me going is the knowledge that I’m not alone. I’ve met other women who’ve been through this, and hearing their stories gives make me think that maybe I can find a way through this mess.
For now, though, I’m just angry. I’m grieving the marriage I thought I’d have, and I’m trying to figure out how to rebuild myself after years of feeling like an invisible lowlife. I don’t know where this road leads, but I do know one thing: I can’t keep living like this. Something has to change. Apparently the only one who can change is me.
Comments