Marriage and Sex: Some of My Mistakes and Growth

Asperger's has put a slant on my relationships that aren't always apparent upfront. 

  While I could probably compose volumes based on the fortune of having made a treasure trove of mistakes and hopefully learned from them, I can only touch the proverbial, "Tip of the Iceberg" here. 

   So many of us struggle, and like anyone, many of us want relationships. Getting in them has never been a problem for me. Women usually do something crafty like not running, and someone finds you. It's terribly uncomplicated. I toss in a little mixing it up by flatly denying several, before deciding on one. Other times, I set about hunting rather than waiting to be netted. Whatever works, and one time one way has been best. Another time another has, so the concept of "When you're not looking," can be good or bad depending on if you want a relationship or if you're looking for some time alone. As for partners, I do have some qualifications, but that's not the point here. I want to stay general with this. The best I know to do is tell you some of my mistakes in hopes that they might be useful in avoiding some for yourself and your significant other. At least if you go through them, you might know you're not alone.

    I, probably  like many females with Asperger's, can at first appear to be someone's dream or an answer to a prayer. Nt males write songs about wanting "Honesty" (Billy Joel), and I can't remember one that didn't crush on a bratty at times people-pleaser (I dream of Jeannie). They also say they want a woman to take the lead sometimes (Margaret Thatcher?) and a strong one that can be independent, and a woman who will say exactly what she wants...Sound like you? Me too. All of those things describe me, but I am no "Jackpot." Every last one of these benign attributes taken to extreme (Is there another way?) can wear him out.....and leave us empty and resentful.  

    My Mistakes:

     Honesty for me has also meant a lack of flirting that they loved, needed, and I didn't know. Further, if discussed  I'd say it was indirect (dishonest) and silly, in effect calling them, "Silly." Not a turn on, Ladies.
     Nearly always taking the lead made me the pursuer, and they never had to/got to try.  (I was crossing sexual borders..becoming more masculine, and it left him emotionally impotent and hurt, and I didn't know.)
     People pleasing has at times meant self-sacrificing to the point of being untrue to myself/not taking care of myself. Read: I hurt me, and there is no more effective way to hurt a man than to hurt the woman he loves.
      Being perpetually independent has at times been read as, "I don't need you." I can't think of a more hurtful message to send to a person, and though I didn't know, I sure did it.
      I also tried to, "fix" them. I'm good at putting things together, but the "helping him or fixing his problem" I was trying to do out of love was received as, "You are not enough." No one ever wants to hear that. Who does not want to be loved and accepted exactly as they are?
        I was, without intent or knowing, heartbreakingly emasculating to the person I loved and wanted. 

      At the end, it did surface that he had a few large problems, but he's not here to discuss them. I can only speak of me. He did say, "I have been an excellent provider, but I wasn't much of a husband." That's true in some ways, but I was short on what makes a good wife too.

    It wasn't until the final years that I learned that being a  "Provider" and being at work was the only place I'd left for him to feel like a man, beside me or at times even above a bit. Why not? I did. At home I took care of everything. I did the repairs or arranged them, I fixed anything that I thought was broken. I "ran the show." I even helped him create presentations, and talked to his family and sometimes a friend on his behalf when he asked and when he didn't. (Ouch! I stepped on my own toes.) 
     Honest to the enth degree, yet show me the script, and I could bring down the curtain. I could reverse it all on a dime and pull off a submissive act that Shakespear would have cried trying to write. In every possible way I knew, several that a few girlfriends knew, any that the Kama Sutra had to offer, and a barrage of things Kinsey knew, I was actively, even when passively, pursuing the man. 

    In retrospect, I probably scared him to death at least for his wife's sanity. What I thought was loving and caring was stepping more and more into control, and I had not a clue. To my credit, I did tell him it would never be boring. I did hold up to that. Shaking my head, moving on...

            Staying at work was the only way I'd left him to keep his dignity. 


  Talking Sexy: new beginnings

      Like most of us, I knew what to say, and had gotten past any idea that he should know what to do and where sexually, but I had no idea that for him, sex started with how I treated him all day long just like it does with women.
     In the last few years, me then in my early forties, I learned to say some of the sexiest things a man can hear:
           "Thank you."
            "I'm so proud of you," 
            "I like the way you...," 
            "That was a great idea you had!"
              and every once in a while, "How did I get so lucky?" 

       What was so amazing was the more I complimented, the more I noticed, and the more I took time to see how hard he was trying, the more I saw him as a capable, strong, attractive and amazing human being. That's not all. The more I did these things, the more I liked me.

    ..Again, he had his own problems, and me working on mine didn't fix them, but it helped me to stop harming him, gave him a little dignity back, and made me a more whole, more loving person, and it made me someone with more compassion, because I was able to tell him I needed to to hear those things too, so I understood, I just thought he should know I was proud of him, that his accomplishments were obvious...just like sometimes men say women should know they are loved when he's gone all day. No on both accounts.

   I, who had no social qualms about saying anything and rarely got embarrassed, did not know that he needed to hear,
         "You are my hero."

    So many are saying, "If you want a Queen, treat her like one." It goes both ways, and I'm not talking about sandwiches or sexual acrobatics. I'm talking about the really hard stuff: Unconditional Love and Acceptance. If you want it, the best most effective way to start is to give it. (That goes both ways to, but the good news is, it doesn't matter who starts it, as long as someone does.)
    I had to let some things go undone, let him do more and more for me, and even (gasp!) let him do it his way even if it seemed "wrong" to me. Sometimes they come up with better ideas too. It's o.k. if things aren't "perfect," and it's o.k. to not always have it all sorted or have any answers. It's o.k. to even see him screw up everything and forgive, because it's even easier to forgive myself when I do it too.
  
    Relationships won't all work, but I think they're worth it, and in the moment, maybe we can not only give, but grow enough to be humble enough to learn to receive too. 
    
    I'm there too, and I'll make more mistakes. I'm sure of it, maybe they'll be even better ones. smiles. For now, I'm resting, reflecting, and taking a little time to grow, staying strong, but being perhaps a little more vulnerable, and letting someone else have the spotlight now and then. I'm only 47 though, so I'm still new at this. smiles.

 Never stop dreaming.
  with love, 
tina jones

P.S. If you have a little time, do check out my Youtube Channel: HERE

Detachment

I don't know if others realize this, but things happened before I was born. Really, they did.

      There were parades and protests, people fell in love too. There were wars. Babies were born, and some people died. Buildings were built, and taken down. Books were written. Paintings were done. There were songs and pieces of music. Diseases happened. Cures happened. Sometimes people got treated badly. Sometimes there were breakthroughs, and they got accepted. Flowers grew. There were forest fires, hurricanes, and sunsets. Entire species came into being, and some went away. People had jobs, and some were looking for jobs. It rained. Lipstick and light bulbs were invented. Religions and exercise routines came into being, and some of them were even pretty good, sometimes, but not always. Nations formed and dissolved. Business contacts were made. Contracts were signed. Contracts were broken. Cherry pie was eaten. Squirrels chased each other around trees. Earth orbited the sun. Ocean waves ebbed and flowed. People sneezed. Couples held hands. Moms worried. Dad's played. People worked too hard. People played too much. Grandparents told stories. Socks got holes in them. Jokes were told. Hair grew. People gossiped. Someone helped someone else. Monkeys threw dung. Camels spit. Children made up rhymes. Crickets chirped. Fashions changed. One person fed another. Someone slept with someone that other people didn't approve of. Someone married someone they didn't want to. People cared. People didn't care. There were murders. Entire communities gathered together to raise a barn for only one person, just because.

    All of this and more happened before I got here. I really don't think that when I'm gone much will be different. I also think that my being here now, is a matter of me playing one of the parts. Nothing is ever missing, and I'll get replaced, just as I replaced someone.

   There is a certain relaxation to it for me. I'm not that important. Special, to some, sure, but none of these things were dependant on my arrival, and they wont stop, when I leave.

    Somehow, I get the feeling that everything is right with this place, always has been and always will be.
    I spent a great deal of my life in causes, in protestations, and trying fix things as I saw fit. Political wonder and Joan of Arc (in my mind), I was going to straighten out this planet, as if after all of this time, suddenly I appeared and was sent it to reform everything. No, I'm here for you.
   I play a part, just like the rest of us and we create and re-create the balance that's always been.
   For now, my part seems best as the nonjudgmental observer, open heart and arms. Sometimes I'm the hand holder, the painter, and now and then I affix myself to a cause. ha...
    The world doesn't need me to fix it. It may not even need fixing. When I can step back, I think that maybe it's (we) are all in a process. Everything evolving, and in my short time here, it isn't likely I'm going to see much of it. 
Mine is just to put the next stitch in the tapestry, and hopefully with some degree of humility, gratitude, even humor and joy.
    We don't have much time, and I seriously doubt I'm here to save anyone from this evolution. I'm just part of the dance.
tina
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Department Store Screamers: Our loveable children

For all parents including those with children on the Autism Spectrum.
  It isn't personal. It's not about you. Very rarely in life does anyone do anything TO me. People, including our children are simply doing what they do, and considering the tools they have, they are often doing a wonderful job of it. Many adults cope with pills and a variety of addictions. Now, who looks more sane, the screamer or the self appointed pharmacist? The hand flapper or the adult female who buries herself in soap operas, and the child who rocks and the man who can't beat a gambling problem? We all have done a lot of things to fit in, and most of it is unhealthy. It may be time for a good scream.
  Our Loveable Department Store Screamers:
  I didn't learn to enjoy shopping. I learned to fake it, lie to myself, stuff my feelings, that others were more important than me, to drink heavily when I couldn't stuff my feelings enough, to loathe myself for lieing to myself while I'd never lie to another. Yes, We can be molded, and we can pretend for you and please you. Eventually, I learned that I was wrong about all of that,  and I did matter, that other people's obsessions for social activities did not make them a requirement for me, and that I could no more learn to love  these activities than an NT (neurotypical/not on the Autism Spectrum) could learn to enjoy having splints under the fingernails. Repetition of both activities wont make them more pleasant, rather it can make a person withdraw and go numb. Rather than looking at why an aspie doesn't like hypothetical fingernail splints, why not ask why it is so important to us as parents that they they do?
  Yeah, I can hear the dead silence too.
    It may be more about the self image of the parents than the coping skills of the child. Blame absolutely must be dropped. There is not a more useless word in any language. No parent caused their child's Autism or any of it's various struggles. You're enough as you are for these kids, and if no one's told you today. You are admired and amazing....so is your child. Those who think otherwise aren't worth your time. Their kids screamed too, were impatient too, tore the house up too, and didn't eat, think or do what those parents wanted either. Anyone instinctually looks at a screaming or crying child. It's human to have the instinct to see if they are ok, but I had to learn that most people are concerned about themselves and their own lives, and rightfully so, that they have little time or desire to spend their precious time thinking about me, much less judging me and my screaming kid. It's still hard, but just taking that blame and judgement load off meant a lot of freedom for me.
   Once the insecurity has been dropped, try mimicking the kid. Who says they have to do it our way? Why not try it their way? If the kid rocks in the grocery cart, rock with them, if they hand flap, start flapping, if they hum, hum too, if they yell, take a breath and give it go. You just might have fun with your child....Did you HEAR that? "Fun with your child" He/she just might pay more attention to you after you take time to respect their way of doing things. They just might laugh at you, and if you're feeling free by now as you can, you just may laugh too.
  Don't miss the joy right infront of you by wasting time worrying about what other people think. Take a moment to consider your child as an adult. Do you want them to remember and possibly recount a Dad or Mom who was always fearful or upset, or do you want them to have stories of how Mom or Dad's laugh made everything better? Choose carefullly. They just may write a book about it one day.
   We have a lot of choices. I choose happiness every chance I get. I'd bet, come to think of it, that most people have had the desire to let out a good scream at a department store at least once in their adult lives. So kids are more honest about it. Pay attention, they just may be on to something. I'm not saying you should scream your lungs out, but you can at least go as loud as any annoying person you've met. (Come on. I know you know a braggart, preacher or inlaw who can belt it out.) If you want to teach kids more acceptable places and times to let off steam, do some more screaming, hand flapping or whatever appeals in the car. Do use cruise control if your driving. You just may find yourself getting into the freedom of being real. Again, "more" not instead of. When they see you cutting loose, letting the feelings go and even having a giggle over it in the car, they'll want to follow suit. And don't worry about the kids thinking you're nuts. They already do. hehe.
tina jones

Self Love in Death's Arms

  About six or eight years ago, I attended a life drawing studio. The model was thin, and thin isn't what I would normally view as beautiful, but she was graceful and delicate with a few curves of feminity and a great mane of dark hair. I got out one of the sketches I'd done of her, and I'd left out a lot, so a painting was going to take further construction. I began working shadows and lights, and found myself remembering.
 I got very thin last year, certainly not so much as this painting, but it was bad. I had cancer. It was anal squamous cell carcinoma. I'm ok now, infact a little overweight, but I remember the "me" of the time with much tenderness. Months spent in lieing there in pain that medicine couldn't touch, often losing conciousness at the pain, unable to move, and unable to eat. My daily goal was to drink a little water. In exhausted moments, and there were some where there was less pain, daydreaming of painting the memorized ceiling, and meditating to hold on to a degree of sanity, and the quiet that comes with surrender...the acceptance of the respit of death. The "it's going to be ok," I'll rest soon, and the watching of faces of loved ones, whom I didn't want to leave, but "knew" I would, the deepest love for them and compassion at their suffering, they were so beautiful. I had lived a wonderful life afterall, and I was grateful.... In retrospect, there was even a beauty in the fragile state of such horrid illness. Looking at the painting, is at once frightening and heart-rendering. I have the feeling of wanting to pick her up and tell her she'll be ok, that's it ok to let go, and that I love her.
   I underwent a major surgery, and did it really for the love of my family, so they'd know I cared enough for them to try, but I didn't expect it to work. I had nothing left to fight with. Months went by, and so slowly I was able to eat again, move without pain and far beyond my understanding, I'm alive.
   I had seen people die before, and I had attended their needs and comfort. I have held hands and cried with them, and I've seen the peace that comes before they go. I thought I was strong, but I had never been the one who was dieing, the one who went so far into and beyond pain to absolute serenity.
   This is not the first time I've seen the light at the end of the tunnel, and sure as death must come for all of us one day, it won't be my last. Until then, serenity remains, love abounds and I paint.
tina jones



"Emaciated Nude"
11x14"
Acrylic on Canvas