Life with the spectrum
or, My Anniversary
September 11, 1946: Arthur Loy Watt married Margret Beard Wilkinson. Pre-war, he was a handsome young stranger who walked into a church youth meeting--the wrong one, as it happens. He spied a lovely redheaded young woman and later that evening told his family that he'd seen the woman he wanted to marry. She was a redheaded young woman seated in the choir who saw him come in and thought, "now that's a man I could marry." Love at first sight for both. He wouldn't make her a war widow so she waited until he was demobed. My grandparents. After 9/11/01, Grandma was worried that the family would forget her anniversary. Grandpa had been dead for some years by then.
September 11, 2005: Jesse Samuel Walker married Autumn Eckstrom (McClanahan.) I was going to keep my promise to Grandma that the joy of her anniversary would carry on come hell or high water.
Yesterday, I observed 9/11 with several moments of silence. I kept a bit of joy alive with the memory of my grandparents' love. Grandma just died a few weeks ago. She was looking at Grandpa, calling him and talking to him in her last week, according to those who were near her at the time. Much as I miss her, I'm equally upset for my mom, aunts and uncles. So keeping that bit of joy alive was a bit difficult as my selfish side wanted to claw both grandparents back.
My husband bantered with me in the morning over e-mail, broadening that bit of joy. The day would be manageable after all.
Then it turned.
What I had taken as light hearted banter was Jesse extending himself as far as he could while in reality he was seething. Being in a bad mood, he naturally decided to help combat it...by feeding his rage. He had taken it upon himself to mow empty lots around the neighborhood that belong to absentee slumlords he's quite angry with on an 83 degree day with heavy, wet, knee high grass.
By the time we spoke, he was so enraged at me in particular and the world in general that he gave me a tongue lashing I won't soon forget, somehow managing to incorporate treating me like an 8 year old child, implying that I'm a shiftless gold digger, blaming me for our future insolvency, demanding whether I understand what it's like to be tired of picking up after others all the time (ironically, while I had just returned home and was at that very moment picking up his wet clothes from the bathroom floor, dishes from the living room floor, grass covered shoes...) all into one 10 minute rant. He gave up (on me? our family? our marriage?) for the I-can't-count-how-many-times and then finally disconnected when I stayed silent.
He called back within another 10 minutes to apologize for losing his temper. Then he went over his list of grievances and gave up again.
September 12th, it was as if nothing had happened. The sun was shining and all was right in the world for him.
This isn't the first time my darling has been upset with me. I distinctly recall a period of at least 5 years in which he was rarely happy in my presence, (the children and dogs constantly seeking my affection or protection were just too irritating to him.) It's simply been a long time since the last big one. I'd forgotten the intensity of these tirades.
I found, upon googling some variation of 'married to spectrum,' that others have very similar experiences with partners on the spectrum but that very few put anything out there. So here's a little contribution in hopes that someone out there feels a little less overwhelmed when a tirade engulfs you. Four of the most powerful words out there sometimes can be: you are not alone.
September 11, 1946: Arthur Loy Watt married Margret Beard Wilkinson. Pre-war, he was a handsome young stranger who walked into a church youth meeting--the wrong one, as it happens. He spied a lovely redheaded young woman and later that evening told his family that he'd seen the woman he wanted to marry. She was a redheaded young woman seated in the choir who saw him come in and thought, "now that's a man I could marry." Love at first sight for both. He wouldn't make her a war widow so she waited until he was demobed. My grandparents. After 9/11/01, Grandma was worried that the family would forget her anniversary. Grandpa had been dead for some years by then.
September 11, 2005: Jesse Samuel Walker married Autumn Eckstrom (McClanahan.) I was going to keep my promise to Grandma that the joy of her anniversary would carry on come hell or high water.
Yesterday, I observed 9/11 with several moments of silence. I kept a bit of joy alive with the memory of my grandparents' love. Grandma just died a few weeks ago. She was looking at Grandpa, calling him and talking to him in her last week, according to those who were near her at the time. Much as I miss her, I'm equally upset for my mom, aunts and uncles. So keeping that bit of joy alive was a bit difficult as my selfish side wanted to claw both grandparents back.
My husband bantered with me in the morning over e-mail, broadening that bit of joy. The day would be manageable after all.
Then it turned.
What I had taken as light hearted banter was Jesse extending himself as far as he could while in reality he was seething. Being in a bad mood, he naturally decided to help combat it...by feeding his rage. He had taken it upon himself to mow empty lots around the neighborhood that belong to absentee slumlords he's quite angry with on an 83 degree day with heavy, wet, knee high grass.
By the time we spoke, he was so enraged at me in particular and the world in general that he gave me a tongue lashing I won't soon forget, somehow managing to incorporate treating me like an 8 year old child, implying that I'm a shiftless gold digger, blaming me for our future insolvency, demanding whether I understand what it's like to be tired of picking up after others all the time (ironically, while I had just returned home and was at that very moment picking up his wet clothes from the bathroom floor, dishes from the living room floor, grass covered shoes...) all into one 10 minute rant. He gave up (on me? our family? our marriage?) for the I-can't-count-how-many-times and then finally disconnected when I stayed silent.
He called back within another 10 minutes to apologize for losing his temper. Then he went over his list of grievances and gave up again.
September 12th, it was as if nothing had happened. The sun was shining and all was right in the world for him.
This isn't the first time my darling has been upset with me. I distinctly recall a period of at least 5 years in which he was rarely happy in my presence, (the children and dogs constantly seeking my affection or protection were just too irritating to him.) It's simply been a long time since the last big one. I'd forgotten the intensity of these tirades.
I found, upon googling some variation of 'married to spectrum,' that others have very similar experiences with partners on the spectrum but that very few put anything out there. So here's a little contribution in hopes that someone out there feels a little less overwhelmed when a tirade engulfs you. Four of the most powerful words out there sometimes can be: you are not alone.
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