So it’s been almost a year since my last post and I’ve decided it’s time to revive this blog. Today will just be a quick rundown on how things have been.

My divorce is officially final. The finality of it hit me in such an unexpected way. I was surprisingly unprepared to read the words, “Your divorce is final.” And suddenly, I was crying with such a ferocity that I couldn’t breathe. The overwhelming feeling of the moment was failure. I had failed and was now an OFFICIAL failure. Even though I have moved on in my life and am much happier now that I have ever been, I still feel the crushing weight of this defeat.

An unexpected result of this dissolution has been the change in my daughter. Instead of being withdrawn and distant from me, she has become warm and more empathetic towards me and her peers. She is beginning to understand the impact of her words and actions in a way that I truly didn’t think was possible for her. She still struggles at times, but I’ve really come to understand that we ALL do, and I’m beginning to learn to give her grace and take the good days  when they come.

I’m Aware

Today is World Autism Day. As a woman married to a man with Asperger’s, I thought I would use the day as a jumping off point for a peek into our life. When Nate and I first met, I thought he was weird. I mean, really, really, really weird. He didn’t really talk to people, he had the strangest nuances, and just about everything he did took five times longer than it did for other people. I don’t know why I pursued him as relentlessly as I did. I just knew that I loved him; even if was, as I said, really, really, really weird.

Later, we would learn that he has Asperger’s and all of this things I thought were weird, are really just what makes him who he is. We have an interesting relationship. He has a need for routine. I swing violently day to day. If sure you COULD find a more mis-matched pair of mental problems to be married, but, you might be hard pressed. When I’m in a manic state, I have the urge to clean, to be adventurous  to move every stick of furniture in the house. While he stands in the middle of the room; paralyzed by all of the sudden, swift changes going on around him. When I’m in a depressive state, he is forced to do more of my share of the household work. And again, becomes so overwhelmed he chooses to wait out my state so I can do everything the right way. Over the years we’ve managed to hack together a semblance of what others would call normalcy. But it doesn’t take too keen of an eye to realize that something is still a little off about us. I’m too loud and he’s too quiet. I talk too fast and he doesn’t talk at all. But our commonality is how both of us struggle to find understanding and acceptance in a world that is only recently beginning to talk about disorders like ours.

I love my autistic husband and he loves his bipolar wife.