Why can't my autistic husband EVER be wrong?!

Ethan has just got home from work - he's bought back Malbec and Ben and Jerry's, so I can't be too mad with him...
But, for god's sake, why can't that man ever admit to being wrong?

The conversation went something like this. 

Ethan: 'I had a nice chat with Ava today. She told me she tried to climb a mountain [for context, she's at uni in North Wales - and no, it wasn't Snowdon] but they had to stop because there were a field of bulls.'

Me: 'I had the very same chat with her just now. But I don't think they were all bulls, some of them were cows.'

Ethan: 'No, she's sent me the pictures. They were bulls. They had horns.'

Me: 'Cows can have horns, you know.'

Ethan [loud and self-important]: 'No, Laura, they can't. Only bulls have horns. Cows have udders.'

Me: 'And they can have horns too.'

Ethan [louder and more self-important]: 'No. You have a field of cows with one bull, or a field of bulls.'

[No, I wasn't sure what that had to do with anything either but that's another of Ethan's autistic traits, to chuck something in to conversation which is completely beside the point of what you're talking about.]

Me [looking it up on the internet as I happened to be online, and reading from the screen]: 'Both males (bulls) and females (cows) have horns.'

Ethan: 'Yeah, that's not talking about actual cows, is it?' [What??] 'You need to see an actual picture.'

I am now frustratingly invested in having to prove to Ethan that cows can have horns, when initially I was just going to let it go. Simply because he's so bloody annoying and can't ever admit he's wrong about anything and is always so bloody pigheaded and man-splainy about everything, even when he doesn't actually really know what he's on about, which is so annoying. So now I'm looking up images of cows with horns - which I sucessfully get on screen, dozens of the things, just as Ethan says...

Ethan: 'But they'll just be tiny horns, like, little nodules...'

He sees my screen

Ethan: 'I don't think they're cows, they're a type of cow-bull'

AAAARRRGGGHH!!

Knowledge is not power

I know, by the way, where this insatiable need to always be right comes from. There's so much in life that he struggles with and doesn't understand - things that seem to come easily to neurotypical people - that he always feels he has something to prove (to himself as much as anyone else) and his already fragile self-esteem can't ever admit to being wrong. 

But to be married to that constant wrongly-placed 'rightness' is so, so frustrating.      

College versus school for my autistic son

My 16 year old son started college this September.

At first, I was a little nervous about him leaving school amid the middle-class, well-trodden path of GCSEs, followed by A-levels, followed by uni – who am I kidding?! I knew he wouldn’t go to uni – the never-ending social aspect, never mind the self-motivation and regulation required for passing his degree would be his worst nightmare. And that’s absolutely fine – one chid bankrupting me as I scaffold her through university is quite enough (she debated the ethics of sex dolls shaped like chickens the other day?! Money well spent).

But just going straight from GCSEs to a vocational college to train in a vocation he’s never shown any interest in before made me slightly worry he was putting all his eggs in one basket (or perhaps all his wires in one plug socket would be a better analogy). I worried that, a few years down the line, he’d realise he didn’t really like being an electrician but, by then, would have burnt all his bridges to do anything else.

However, he’s currently four weeks in and is loving everything about the fact that college is nothing like school.

 

School’s out…

… and, with it, being treated like a kid, having to be there 08:45 – 15.15 five days a week and sitting through lessons you’re not even vaguely interested in and know you don’t need to do what you want to do in life. I get that, for some – maybe even many – young people, school is great. Some kids throw themselves into the ready-made social side of it all, love learning all kinds of subjects just for the sake of learning, understand what they’re being taught and generally thrive.

But for my son, who learns visually and practically, has a short concentration span and slow processing, gets overwhelmed when he has to take too much in, and needs plenty of downtime – school was a perpetual, five-days-a-week trial.

At college, there are frequent short breaks, students are given more ownership over their learning, the tutors are known on first-name terms so are more like real people, and he’s learning something that a) is largely practical and b) is centred around one subject so he’s not overwhelmed with multiple subjects that his brain has to switch between.

I think the fact he has vape breaks with his tutors and only has to go in two days a week also helps! But it means that, on the two days he is in, he can give the experience his all as he knows it’s only for two days and that, after that time, he’ll be due some recovery time. And having that recovery time means he’s more inclined to go out and do the odd social thing in the week – because he’s not used up all of his social battery being in school 6.5 hours a day, five days a week.

For my 16-year-old autistic son, in the college versus school contest, there’s one very clear winner.

Plus, give it a couple of years and I might be able to get my boiler fixed for free!

Autism and driving? I'll take the bus

When my husband first got diagnosed as autistic 13 years ago, we were given a few sessions of counselling with the (wonderful) woman who diagnosed him - for free, on the NHS! 

I know, bloody amazing. Don't think it happens these days... in fact, not sure we'd even get a diagnosis on the NHS in anything less than three years these days, but that's for another post. 

Anyway, this woman was wonderful and, for a newly diagnosed couple (because, through Ethan's diagnosis, I by association was also diagnosed as 'being married to an autistic spouse', which, for me, was just as big a reality to get my head around). With three young kids and an already overwhelming life, for a couple who knew absolutely nothing about how to navigate life with autism, her wisdom, calm approach and realistic sense of humour were a lifeline.

She had loads of tips around managing the demands of family life, communicating more effectively together, giving Ethan time to process information, building in downtime to his day and managing social situations. 

But then we spoke about driving.

Autistic road rage

When I described Ethan's extremely short patience levels behind the wheel:

• how he would have an opinion on how everyone else should drive and would flash, honk and agressively stare into people's cars as he overtook them 
• how he would have no patience for any driver showing any kind of hesitation or making tiny mistakes (being in the wrong lane, for example) or going even a few miles slower than the speed limit and would shout at them from inside his 'safe place' 
• how he would get angry with anyone who didn't give way to him but would rarely give way to anyone else 
• how he would drive too fast, slam the breaks on, accelarate hard, take corners too fast, push into queues, lane hop and generally create a really unpleasant drive for his passengers - not applying any of the rules he judged everyone else by to himself 

The counsellor listened, sympathetically. 

Ethan accepted that what I was saying was true (and looked suitably reprimanded, which, honestly, wasn't my intention, I just wanted to know how to make it better as we literally couldn't be in the same car together without a blow-up). 

We both waited for her words of wisdom which would revolutionise our driving experience....

Accept the things you cannot change

And she said. 'Those things aren't going to change. My advice is, as much as possible, try not to be in a car with him.'

The thing is, there are accepted and well established rules around driving - something an autistic brain loves. Rules make things predicatable and safe. So when people break these rules, it threatens Ethan's sense of order, his feeling of being in control and of knowing what's coming. 

'But he breaks these rules' I say.

'That's different,' says our counsellor, 'because it's him breaking them. He's still in control.' 

I must look disparaging, and indignant. I certainly feel it. And the counsellor must see that.

'I wouldn't even try to change his driving,' she says, calmly but firmly. 'You'll just get yourself incredibly frustrated'. 

Thirteen years on, I would say he's got a little bit better. The aggressive stares into other people's cars are now more like glances. When he's functioning at his best, he will hold back from raging at people when they make mistakes. 

And I've learnt not to judge who he is and how likeable he is - or, more to the point, isn't - by how he drives. It's simply one of the most triggering places for him to be. 

Other drivers - how dare they even be on the road?!