Being married to Justin isn’t easy. Being married period isn’t easy, ASD or not. Justin is particular about things. He taps a lot. Bounces his legs a lot. Knocks on cupboards, doors, me. He gets frustrated at the littlest things and gets mad. He shuts himself away sometimes. He won’t tell me he loves me sometimes.
Nothing he does will make me love him less.
In 2012 when my baby Waffles became paralyzed and we had to put her down, he wouldn’t allow me to take her to the vet. He KNEW watching her pass away in front of me would destroy me. He was right. So he took her. He stayed by her side. He was there for her in her last moments. Then came back to me, held me, kissed me, and took me to nature to distract me. Showed me a waterfall I’d never seen. Let me cry.
He has never questioned any of my decisions about my life or what I want to do. When I said I wanted to quit my cushy state job because I was unhappy he said, Cool. Do it. If I said I wanted to shave my head, he’d say cool, weirdo, but do it. Not once has he told me I’m not allowed to do something. He doesn’t stop me from being myself or what I want to do. He supports me. That’s priceless.
He won’t ask you for anything. That could be good, or bad. He could be on fire and he won’t ask you to put him out. He can’t. That’s the Aspie in him. He’s terrified you’ll say no. I find myself getting things for him. Being his voice.
People think I’m controlling him a lot I’m sure. I speak for him, fill out forms for him, answer questions for him. Sometimes I think he hates it. He doesn’t. He can’t find the right words. He can’t talk to people. He gets overwhelmed with too many questions and too many words and can’t put the answers together. He might have them, but he can’t get them to his brain. And that’s totally fine with me.
I couldn’t be happier with this amazing man I made my own.