Transforming Challenges into Superpowers in My Marriage to an Autistic Husband

In this age where social media reigns supreme, many of us grapple with attention-seeking behaviors, either consciously or subconsciously. I’ve noticed this in myself, leading to revelations about my past relationships. It’s like the saying goes – ‘when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.’ This story is about a woman who thrives in the spotlight, meets a man who finds social interaction challenging, and together, they make the best lemonade ever.

Our marriage, like any, had its hurdles. I often felt frustrated with my husband, Shama. He seemed uninterested in spending quality time together or joining activities I suggested. Despite my attempts to explain my need for connection, his responses – or lack thereof – left me feeling alone and unfulfilled. Dates, romantic walks, even taking our dog out – these things only happened if I initiated them, and even then, his agreement was more of a reluctant “Hmmm OK” than excitement.

Oh and here are some of the things I have told him: “I feel lonely”, “I want more than your shell”, and “You treat me like a fish you’ve caught for your fish tank – excited at first, then completely neglectful once it’s in the tank.” These frustrations would often escalate into rage, especially during that time of the month. However, I realised that this approach was far from being constructive communication.

Everything changed when Shama sought professional help and received a diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and ADHD. This was a pivotal moment for both of us. Suddenly, Shama’s lifelong struggles clicked into place, and I immersed myself in research to support him better. This journey prompted me to reflect on why I took his actions so personally and to probe the deeper roots of my emotions.

Did Shama’s ASD diagnosis solve our issues? Not exactly. To be honest, I never believed his Autism was the root of our marital conflicts, and I still stand by that. Because if that’s the case, how are there so many couples who are neurotypicals, going through crisis just as much? Miscommunication and no communication don’t discriminate. The real issue was more about his long-standing depression, rooted in his challenging childhood. Understandably, someone who has felt stuck since childhood might struggle to engage fully with others.

When Shama consulted a psychologist for his depression, the psychologist, well-versed in related behaviours, suspected ASD. That discovery changed everything.

This brings me to a crucial realisation – how did Shama’s diagnosis become a turning point for us? During my extensive research and attendance at Autism webinars, I had an epiphany. It wasn’t that Shama didn’t want to spend time with me; he generally preferred doing things independently. Recognizing this, I took his actions less personally, yet they still bothered me. This made me wonder, why did I still take his behaviour to heart?

Delving deeper, I understood that my frustration wasn’t solely about Shama. But then, where were these intense feelings of anger and rage originating from?

Reflecting on my childhood, I recognized a deep-seated need for attention, coupled with feelings of neglect. My parents, hardworking Koreans, spent countless hours working, leaving little time for me. I tried to be the perfect daughter and sister, a role that brought validation but failed to fulfil my deeper emotional needs, which I was initially unaware of.

It’s important to clarify something here. When discussing childhood wounds, people often face criticism or guilt. Comments like “How ungrateful are you?” or “They did what they could” are common. But let’s be clear: acknowledging these wounds isn’t about blaming our parents or using our upbringing as an excuse to remain stagnant. It’s about understanding – a crucial step in the healing journey.

Many of us, in defence of our loved ones, tend to downplay our wounds. While it’s healthy to consider their intentions, using this as a defence mechanism means we’re subconsciously suppressing our true feelings to avoid guilt. I know this all too well – I’ve been there, too. My compassion for my parents led me to push down feelings of betrayal, rage, and sadness.

This realisation struck me deeply. My unresolved anger – which is really just bottled-up pain – was triggered by feeling like a burden.

To this day, I’m usually the one who initiates conflict in our marriage, needing to confront and resolve issues as they arise. Shama, on the other hand, tends to withdraw and shut down. It’s important to note that conflict was never the core issue; it was our approach to communication that created problems. This dynamic often triggers feelings of neglect in me, reminiscent of the anxiety I felt during my childhood when facing my father’s silent treatment. Even though Shama’s silence is different, it echoes familiar emotions that I had unknowingly harboured for a long time. Meanwhile, Shama’s tendency to withdraw stems from his own childhood trauma. He grew up in a household scarred by domestic violence, where conflict meant danger and fear. His instinctive response to avoid confrontations is deeply rooted in those early experiences.

Can you imagine the tension between Shama and I during this period, not knowing what was going on? 

Healing Together: Confronting Our Past

Now that we understand that our triggers are rooted in past pain, we approach conflicts differently. We respond as adults, soothing our wounded inner child.

Healing isn’t about blame. Our behaviours and emotions often stem from childhood, whether we realise it or not. Recognising this can empower us to release our trapped inner child. My journey included confronting my parents about my unacknowledged childhood needs, which was both shocking and liberating.

Dwelling in the victim mentality hinders healing. We must face and validate our feelings for true healing. Suppressing emotions leads to recurring issues. Here’s a blunt truth: Use triggers as opportunities for self-exploration and healing. Remember, just like it goes with one’s actions, YOU are responsible for your emotions.

Understanding my emotions and their root causes didn’t magically dissolve all problems. It would be misleading to say that my loneliness and Shama’s depression vanished just because of this awareness. However, this understanding allowed us to support each other and devise solutions tailored to our needs. The entire healing process is time-consuming, and old habits prone to relapse do surface. But, akin to any skill, we improved with practice, making progress that opened new doors for us. This also deepened our connection, as we tackled these challenges as a team.
I want to clarify that this process wasn’t always graceful, contrary to what you might see on social media by spiritual gurus. There were moments of intense frustration, where I found myself hitting or screamed into a pillow, and even screaming ragefully at Shama a few times.

If Shama and I had continued to deflect and blame each other for our emotional triggers, we might have felt trapped or even ended our marriage, unable to accept who we are. Avoiding these challenges wouldn’t have brought true comfort, as the underlying issues would likely resurface. For instance, leaving my marriage to find someone else, blaming Shama for our issues instead of taking accountability on my part, wouldn’t have resolved the underlying problem. It’s like replacing a monitor when the actual issue is with the PC’s motherboard. By facing our wounds head-on, we’ve gained freedom from past fears and learned to detach our ‘wounded child’ from current situations. This journey has taught us that real comfort comes from confronting our emotional triggers, not avoiding them.