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Social misunderstandings

Josh, neurodivergent: Something I think about a lot is social scenarios. For a long time I just felt I had severe social anxiety. Maybe I do, but that's not the whole picture, and I think I understand it far better now. Socially, I have minimal requirements and can get my fill of social interaction by simply being somewhere people are. I have always really gone out of my way to avoid social settings, and I realize now that, contrary to how it may seem, it isn’t because of just not wanting to be social.


I think the big sticking points are two things; the emptiness and insincerity of most communicating and misunderstanding social norms. For example - I am hilariously abysmal at interviews because when I'm asked questions I operate as if someone is genuinely interested in the answer. Once I realized that wasn’t the case, I think that is where the anxiety began. Maybe it's like how people with a language barrier feel? It is like time stands still when someone asks me how I am doing and I tell them, and realize they are horrified that I didn’t just say “great.” Since I only tend to realize it after the fact, it's much easier for all involved to just get in the situation.


Social norms in general just don’t seem at all logical to me, so they are generally a problem, and Kelly is good at pointing them out for me. While some make perfect sense, like holding a door for someone or getting in line for something, many just don’t. Like if someone says what sounds like a statement, I don’t answer. I feel that a response isn’t expected because you’re not asking anything. I've walked away from many conversations that weren't over (which Kelly has pointed out to me). I think the opposite is also a problem because if I ask someone something, I am truly am interested in the answer, so “great” makes me think things are great. Frankly, figuring this stuff out is exhausting , and I tend to choose to avoid it whenever possible,

A rare date night.


Kelly, neurotypical: When I met Josh, I hesitated before committing to our relationship. I had a full life with lots of passions and interests and ambitions (I still do). I'd also reached a point in my life that I was comfortable being alone. I worried that entering a relationship again would compromise the equilibrium and fulfillment I had found - but, obviously, I decided to take the plunge.

The year we got married, I was 30 and Josh was 40, and I like to think that we approached our married life with reasonable and mature expectations. I had a busy social calendar, and Josh never asked me to change that. Rather, while we were dating, we seemed to enjoy a good balance of evenings out or in together and time spent apart, doing our own thing. What was missing from our social repertoire, however, was time spent socializing with others, together.

Josh invited me to spend time with small groups of his friends on a few occasions, and these were enjoyable evenings spent dining out, watching movies or football, or playing board games. Josh seemed at ease with his friends and genuinely happy to introduce me to them.

It was a different story when I invited Josh to spend time with my social circle. Josh seemed uncomfortable at best, and sullen or angry at worst. He certainly wasn't the charming and affectionate version of himself that I was used to spending time with.


As time went on, I invited Josh to spend time with my friends and colleagues more and more rarely - and I could tell that he was relieved. I found the situation bewildering, and frankly, I didn't want to deal with it. I know my friends found this confusing - and to this day, some of my best friends have either not met Josh or do not know him well at all.


An incredible benefit of learning that Josh is autistic was that I understand, now, that his social energy and capacity will never match mine. While we occasionally have a nice date night out together (as often as you can, when you have a toddler), I don't push him to join me at social functions anymore, and I don't feel angry or resentful. I frequently attend events alone - and I only ask him to come along when it's really important to me. And Josh knows that when I do ask, it really matters, and he shows up for me.


 

What we wish we'd known: Josh experiences intense social anxiety as a result of his difficulty interpreting social expectations.

 

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Married With Autism

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