Some days, it’s tough LOVING someone with autism. Some days, it’s tough BEING someone with autism. And here I am, trying to do both.
Loving someone with autism, I get so frustrated, with all the ways they want pattern, predictability, focus and routine. What lack of adventure, what dearth of novelty! Being someone with autism, I get superpowered by choosing familiarity and peace, and savouring contentment. I don’t need gratuitous anxieties to make me feel more alive! I’m so alive! And we both know how overstimulation is my kryptonite….
Loving someone with autism can be so lonely. Are they really that self-centered and oblivious? Being someone with autism, I feel the superpower of self-centeredness. I align with quantum physical reality to be my very own centre of the universe. I want that for you, too.
Loving someone with autism means I get outraged, some days, by their lack of interest in cultural narratives of worthiness and unworthiness. Don’t they know – they should at least be trying to be more worthy of love – more attractive, convenient, sensitive, honoring – or at least, more minimally aware of me? Being someone with autism, I feel the superpower of my disinterest, in all the cultural stories about how I (or you) can be more (or less) worthy to live, love and be loved. I only care what feels right for me. I want that for you too.
I know neurodivergence is one key, for me. Neuro-weirdness feels like part of my power. Autism resources me in my work, in sacred intimacy, in my erotic friendships and ever-evolving intimacies. I can be an outlaw in love with other outlaws. We can keep wanting and evolving resonant connection, without getting too distracted by the dominator culture’s stories, rules and roles. And yes, there is fear and frustration. It’s really tough, some days, to be loving in ways that land, and to feel loved.
