A day late, but posting a story of when we first got married to celebrate our anniversary:
The thing about having an autistic husband, is as much as I love him, he just is not capable of picking up on behaviors or facial expressions and knowing what they mean. He needs me to speak the words I’m feeling.
Early on, this was a problem. When I was exhausted after work and didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with anything, I needed some time alone.
I would say “I’m tired,” get up and leave a room.
He’d follow.
I would shut a door.
He would open it, and keep talking to me.
I had to actually speak the words, “I would like a little bit of space for a while.”
And then he would say, “Oh.” In a sad voice.
And then I’d feel like an asshole, because he always seemed so sad when I did that. I didn’t want to hurt him. I loved him, and I thought I was a bad wife for wanting time for myself. Things were not good.
One day, I came home, and on my desk was a card, laminated. It was simple, black text on white background, in 36-point font. It said:
I love you. Fuck off.
And he took my hands and said the reason he was sad wasn’t that I needed space— he needs his sometimes too, but I pick up the signals and leave him alone.
He felt bad that he couldn’t understand me, and I always looked so uncomfortable and guilty when I told him.
So now I have a card that I can hand to him, any time, and he will understand and go away for an hour and nobody feels guilty.
I have absolutely no opinions on the Barbie movie but since I am already seeing discourse about it all over my dash I am begging people once again to get involved in some kind of local activism so they will stop thinking what movies you watch is a hardhitting form of praxis
here’s my one whole discourse post for pride month. you fucks will never ever ever wean off the radfem shit if you keep trying to give “cis men are evil” nuance. no, it’s not bad because they could be closeted or questioning, it’s bad because gender essentialism is a fucking brain poison and it makes you stupid
this is “not all men” cloaked in progressive-sounding vocabulary
happy disability pride to the people with memory issues and brainfog. who can’t answer when they started experiencing symptoms, when they started their meds, what they did last week/yesterday/this morning. happy disability pride to the people who miss appointments because they forgot, especially really important appointments. who are told to get their results or follow up on an appointment and never end up doing it. the people who would benefit immensely from reminders or someone writing things down for them, who try or are made to try and all the organisation tips in the world won’t help them remember them when they need it
