autistic & leaning in

My wife is divorcing me, and I think it's partly because of my autism. Not because she's a jerk who hates autistic people, but because I wasn't diagnosed until seven years into our relationship. By then, we'd already experienced major conflicts about my different needs around touch and especially socializing.

I didn't want to flinch when she touched me in particular places, but I did, and for the longest time she took it personally—which I get! It sucks to have someone you love flinch and pull away when you touch them in what you think is a loving way.

For the longest time, she thought I was just being difficult in social situations, and so did I. I wanted to meet her needs, I wanted to be the fun and spontaneous partner she wanted me to be, and I couldn't understand why that was so hard for me. I didn't know why it was so draining to be at a loud restaurant with a big group of friends all talking at the same time. I didn't know why it was so difficult for me when her big family made spontaneous decisions to do things and would think I was a downer when I couldn't participate.

I tried so hard, which led to shutting down when I did venture into overwhelming social situations—and occasionally to meltdowns, which just isolated me even further. I was the weirdo adult literally throwing a tantrum. (I know now that's not what was happening, but that's how it looked to people, and it's so embarrassing.)

Even before my diagnosis, my wife eventually figured out how to respond in really kind ways to my different needs. We learned to adjust our approach to social plans: take two cars to gatherings, get all the details about a gathering before going (like parking, seating, etc.), stay in a hotel rather than in a small house with her entire big family. We divvied up chores according to our abilities: she did the grocery shopping and cooking (both of which are overwhelming for me) and I did the laundry and housecleaning.

My diagnosis validated what we'd already learned, and the validation was definitely helpful when it came to loving myself as I am.

But I think that eventually my wife started to wish she was with someone who doesn't flinch, who can manage without specific plans for going out and who can adjust when things change on the fly, who can stay in the small house with her big family over a holiday. I'm not that person. I can't be that person. I can't meet her needs.

I am *not* saying: I don't want to talk to you.

I *am* saying: My brain has a tough time syncing the conversation coherently when I am not in the physical presence of the other person, so it's exhausting trying to keep up.

I was diagnosed with autism at the height of the pandemic, just before vaccines were readily available and after months of social isolation. The diagnosis was an enormous relief. It explained small things like my need for subtitles whenever I watch tv to big things like why I, a full-grown adult, have fully melted down in certain highly stimulating, unfamiliar situations.

But now I feel a little lost. A little bereft. A bit adrift.

As my city slowly opens up again, I feel like a different person than who I was before the world changed. Before, I would do my best to push through overstimulating situations because everyone else seemed to enjoy them so I should try, too. Before, I just accepted "tired" as my natural state. Before, I though I was being picky and needy for wanting to know all the details of a new place before I went, of upcoming plans before they happened.

Since then, I've learned that I simply have different needs than neurotypical people. My body takes in sensations and situations in very different ways.

I have LOVED the pandemic isolation. I have loved that social gatherings were limited because of safety concerns, and that the gathering that did happen were carefully planned. I have loved having a reason to be careful about who I invite to my house.

But now that's all changing, and I'm feeling like a space alien. Everyone seems excited to hang out, to go out, but for me even the smallest creep back into pre-pandemic, pre-diagnosis normal feels impossible.

I'm no longer capable of pretending that I'm capable.