I Almost Didn't Post This One

Dear Readers:

The following post shares some things I was too scared to say out loud, including some sensitive topics for me, and I almost didn't post this. For this reason, I appreciate you taking the time to read it with an open mind, sensitivity, and compassion.

-Amy

📖For additional insights and support, get your copy of my book Love Across Spectrums — 200+ strategies to transform your neurodiverse relationship: https://a.co/d/0bJYw4Rk

Welcome!

Last week, I was on vacation spending time with my family and thinking about how my blogs, books, and posts might be finding their way to people like you—seeking insight, healing, and a space where your experience is truly understood. So, I was delighted to see all of the new readers, group members, and commenters engaging with my strategies, tips, and book, Love Across Spectrums. If you are new—or even if you've been here a while—I wanted to thank you for sharing your time with me and for connecting across all the ways I reach those in relationships with partners on the spectrum!

In addition to being happy about all of the new connections, support, and stories I am hearing from all of you, I also learned about a darker side to some of the books, writers, support groups, and so on in the space of neurodiverse relationships. This reminded me of my own experiences and why they were the catalyst for me to begin writing my book, blogs, and so on in the first place.

In all honesty, I wasn't going to share such personal opinions on the topic of finding supportive and effective strategies for those in neurodiverse relationships. But, as always, I wanted to be transparent with you, because you deserve transparency and the opportunity to know the views of the person you are supporting.

In addition, at the end of this blog, I will be including some tips to make sure your experience in groups, finding books on neurodiverse relationships, and connecting with the right support people is as smooth as possible.

I hope you like them. Now, let's dive into some of the tougher truths I’ve been holding back about who I am as a writer, wife, mom, and person.

Full Disclosure on My Book

Though I have talked about my reason for writing Love Across Spectrums being that I couldn't find that type of book on the shelves, I never considered going more in-depth about the perhaps controversial feelings I have on the topic of books written for partners of people on the autism spectrum.

Why?

Well, I am a pretty practical person when it comes to problem-solving. I think of the problem, turn it upside down and inside out until I find the simplest workable solution, and then share it with others once I do, because I actually care about helping people—period.

I guess that's why, when I wrote my book featuring 200+ tips on relationships with people on the spectrum based on my 15-year relationship with my husband, I thought, "Cool, now I can share this with everyone. I get to help them now in a way no one helped me. Done!"

Except—I wasn't done at all, and I see that now.

Here's Where Things Get Controversial:

Neurodiverse Relationship Support

In the earlier days (the '90s–2010s), there were many books written for people in relationships with those on the autism spectrum, and many buyers (myself included, back then!) purchased those books for guidance.

Keep in mind that usually, when you purchase a book on something you need guidance with, you are trusting the author's authority, trusting their advice, and hoping they can help you.

So, when you run into a book saying things like "leave the relationship," "your partner is the problem," "you will be miserable," "you will be lonely, and there is no hope," or attempting to "turn your partner on the spectrum into a neurotypical person with these random hacks," it's offensive, inaccurate, cruel, insensitive, and in some cases, even causes more issues than it solves.

While there were a few gems in the genre that honestly talked about making your relationship work, finding strategies, etc., it just wasn't "enough." Not for me, and possibly not for you either.

This is why I started writing—for people like you and me to find each other.

Why?

Because whenever someone attempts something meaningful to them and needs support, it's nice to find others who are willing to help us do just that.

My Views On: You as a Person in a Relationship with Someone on the Spectrum.

You matter. You matter to your partner, you matter to me, you matter to this community, and you matter in all the other areas of your life where you contribute. Period.

And in my books, social media, this blog, and any other spaces where I am, you will always matter. Your thoughts, feelings, opinions, hopes, dreams, and fears all matter and have a place.

It doesn't make you a bad partner for being hurt if your partner on the spectrum seems to ignore your feelings because of a misunderstanding.

Empathy for a partner's neurodivergence doesn't mean your feelings don't matter when something hurts. Understanding their intent shouldn't require you to mute your own emotional reality with a pasted on smile.

Yes, their being on the spectrum may explain the misunderstanding, but it doesn't mean your feelings won't get activated—and it doesn't mean those feelings are wrong if they do.

It's like if you cut your finger chopping fruit. Yes, you are cut because knives are sharp, but does knowing "why" make it hurt any less? No.

Is the knife wrong for being sharp?

Are you wrong for liking fruit?

Of course not.

It sounds ridiculous when you frame it like that, right? Yet so many writers in our space forget this simple truth: two things can coexist and affect one another without either side being at fault. As an author, that is the exact perspective I bring to neurodiverse relationships.

No one needs to be the villain.

We are all just different. We love our partners, they love us, and we are trying to make it work. So, as an author, that is where I step in—to try my best to help you both achieve that.

No finger pointing. No blame. No judgments.

Just support.

This should be an agreed-upon standard for authors. When readers turn to us for support and guidance, they deserve objective tools and empathy—not an author’s personal ideology, bad experiences shared without insight, or negative views of those on the spectrum projected onto their lives, unless the book explicitly states that is its purpose.

Period.

My Views on: Your Partner on the Autism Spectrum

Some authors who write about relationships between non-spectrum partners and partners on the spectrum respect the individuality of both people in the relationship. Those are the types of authors I support and champion, because I count myself among those who believe that both partners matter.

Both partners have the right to exist as their own individual person. 

Both partners deserve the right to feel, to have needs, to seek guidance, to hold their own opinions, and to love deeply.

Yet, so many voices in this space take sides—deciding which partner truly deserves empathy, support, and the space to be heard.

As I make clear in my book—and want to reiterate here—I am not on the autism spectrum, nor do I claim to speak for the autistic experience. I write from my own journey and the collective wisdom of my readers, supporters, and clients. My mission is to stand firmly in my perspective as a non-autistic partner while equipping others with the exact strategies that helped my own relationship transform.

My Views on: Authors Who Prioritize the Non-Spectrum Partner's Comfort

Some authors may imply that only the non-spectrum partner's feelings, hopes, dreams, etc. matter—and that their partner on the spectrum should do all the work to be as neurotypical as possible to make their lives easier.

Or, they may imply that every challenge a non-spectrum partner faces because of their partner's differences means that their partner is "the problem" and must be "fixed" somehow. It can almost seem as though fundamentally changing the person on the spectrum is considered an acceptable thing to attempt.

It's not. 

And honestly, that is so disrespectful that it would be a whole new post if I got into all of my thoughts on that!

Sometimes, it can feel like these authors, even if they claim to be—or have been—in relationships with people on the spectrum, don't actually "like" autistic people. Instead, their writing can come across as though they feel a kindred spirit only with other non-spectrum people who are trying to mold their partner on the spectrum into someone else.

Shaking my head. Such a horrible mindset and concept to me!

My Views on: Authors Who Prioritize the Autism Spectrum Partner's Comfort

Then there is the other brand of authors, who seem to tell non-spectrum partners to just "stop asking questions" about ways they can work "together" with their partner on the spectrum. Instead, they insist that since your partner is the one on the spectrum, you should be their caregiver only, and not expect a marriage, relationship, shared responsibility, or anything resembling a realistic partnership.

It is almost as if the message is, "Your partner is on the spectrum, so you aren't allowed to have feelings—now go make them a sandwich and cut it into triangles, or else!"

Though I agree that the partner on the spectrum's feelings matter, that acceptance of people on the spectrum matters, and that a 50/50, perfectly reciprocal relationship may not be possible for every neurodiverse couple because both partners may have their own limitations, the whole "us" [non-spectrum] against "them" [partners on the spectrum] thing is ridiculous to me.

It needs to STOP.

My Views on: How CPTSD in Non-Spectrum Partners Can Affect Relationships with Partners on the Autism Spectrum

As someone who lives with signs of CPTSD, I know how important it can be to find support that takes into account that my partner may be struggling, while also recognizing that I am struggling too—and that my struggles have their own challenges, needs, and value as I learn to adjust to my partner.

For those of us with CPTSD, we may subconsciously scan our environments (and our partners) for signs of their mood, their needs, our own safety, and so on. We may notice if others seem "angry," "happy," or "confused," sometimes even before they themselves do, by paying attention to body language, tone of voice, and other cues.

This can become ingrained in us as a survival response from childhood. But when a partner is on the autism spectrum, that same "security scan alert," as I like to call it, can sometimes be incorrect, overly sensitive, or struggle to even get a clear read on our partner.

This can leave us worrying about what they meant by that "sigh," or why they said they were "very happy" when their expression didn't look like it, and so on.

Though scanning for feedback can be normal for some of us, and not showing the matching or expected body language and variation in voice tone can be normal for some people on the spectrum, the confusion this can cause for both partners can be tough.

It can lead us to feel hypervigilant around them, walk on eggshells, constantly worry about whether they are "mad," or wonder if they really "meant it" when they say something positive to us.

It can make us overexplain. It can make us feel very vulnerable. And sometimes, in silence, we may seek out support more intensely than someone without those same experiences might in a similar situation.

That can lead us to books, support groups, coaches, therapists, and other sources of support. But if we don't choose those sources carefully, they can sometimes make things even tougher for both of us.

Whether you have signs of CPTSD or not, though, know that feeling vulnerable is normal when opening up to others—groups, coaches, therapists, friends, and so on—about our inner thoughts and feelings.

But that vulnerability needs to be tempered with the confidence of knowing that we have autonomy. We can choose who, what, when, and where we get and seek support.

In addition, keep in mind that some people on the spectrum may have CPTSD as well because of their own lives and experiences. To me, being sensitive to what we don't know about what another person is feeling, experiencing, seeing, and working through internally is just as important as what we think we may already know about them.

We are all more than our CPTSD, our autism, our relationship struggles, or any other challenge we may be facing.

But at the same time, that doesn't mean we shouldn't have the challenges we deal with taken into account. We can acknowledge those challenges, find ways to work with them, and still recognize the humanity and individuality of both people in the relationship.

What I Prioritize as an Author

So, you may be wondering, "Amy, if you aren't for the non-spectrum partner 100%, or the Autism Spectrum partner 100%—then who are you actually for, girl?"

Great question, and I can answer it in six words flat:

"I am for the neurodiverse relationship."

I am speaking to the non-spectrum partner, since I myself am a non-spectrum partner, and I only stand by things I can authentically identify with. I am not on the spectrum, and I don't claim to be—so yes, I am speaking from my point of view as a non-spectrum partner.

But this is the IMPORTANT caveat: 

Though I am speaking as a non-spectrum partner, and to non-spectrum partners, my priority is your relationship with your partner on the autism spectrum as a WHOLE.

I am here to help you make your relationship work, find ways to work together, let you both be yourselves, and respect both of your feelings as valid and equal.

My whole concept is simple:

"You BOTH love each other, so let's find ways to make things work if you BOTH want that."

Notice it's about HONORING your DIFFERENCES, not trying to turn either of you into the other person just to remove those differences.

That is why my book isn't about blaming your partner for things like conflicts, nor blaming you for those conflicts either. It's about finding practical ways to minimize those conflicts. Period.

No finger pointing and hopping up and down about who caused what without solutions.

Instead, it's more like:

"Hey, this may be causing the issue. Try this instead and let me know how it goes. It worked for me."

Period.

I am one of the authors who truly loves my husband. I accept him, I support him, I believe in him, and my relationship is powered by love, not by trying to change him, mold him, blame his diagnosis for all of my problems, etc.

It's about making it work, because neither of us chose our differences—but we have chosen to love one another despite those differences.

In fact, for a little behind-the-scenes information…I designed my book cover myself to include bright colors that I liked—happy colors—because my book is about hope, strategies that work, and finding happiness in your differences.

This is why I didn't choose some clinical gray, "super sadness" blue, black, etc. book cover.

No offense to others who choose those colors, but I went with a cover that stylistically matched the vibe and intent of the book:

Happy. Hopeful. Energetic.

Groups: Helpful, Hurtful, or Huh?

Similarly to how there are some amazing books, resources, coaches, therapists, and so on for supporting us as partners of those on the spectrum—along with the ones I suggest avoiding (more on that later!)—there is also quite a mix of groups that can either help or hinder us as partners of those on the spectrum.

I personally know this because, back when I was looking for support and answers, I did what many of us do: I joined a group.

In my mind, groups were supposed to be a place where we could gather and support each other, ask questions, share a little about our day, and talk about what it was like being in a relationship with someone on the spectrum whom we loved dearly.

These groups were also a place where many people, myself included, were brave enough to discuss our hopes, dreams, fears, and struggles in the hope that someone would "get it"—or at least acknowledge that we were in this together as a group of non-spectrum partners.

But my experience was not always one of connection, support, or empathy.

Some of the groups were absolute gems for me. Others, however, seemed to be almost completely against the very thing they claimed to support: successful relationships between spectrum and non-spectrum partners.

Instead, at moments when myself and others were at our most vulnerable, we were sometimes met with people who admitted that they:

Had never dated someone on the spectrum. Were no longer in a relationship with someone on the spectrum at all. Were there primarily to tell us to "divorce," "run," or otherwise leave our relationships.

In more than one case, during some of my most vulnerable moments, I encountered commenters who said they had been out of their relationships for 10, 20, or even more years. They described leaving as the best decision they had ever made and told those of us still trying to make our relationships work that we were simply wasting our time.

And honestly, it left me wondering:

"If you have been happily out of a relationship with someone on the spectrum for over a decade, why are you spending your time in a group specifically for people who are currently trying to make those relationships work?"

To be clear, I don't believe people who have left these relationships don't deserve a voice or an opinion. Their experiences are valid, and there are absolutely situations where leaving a relationship is the healthiest and safest choice.

But there was something about seeing so many people who were no longer in these relationships—and who strongly encouraged everyone else to leave—that felt odd and, at times, counterproductive.

Was everyone simply trying to help based on their own experiences? Probably.

Was it possible that some people were there primarily to discourage others from staying?

Maybe.

I don't know.

I certainly didn't go so far as to construct myself a full tin-foil hat and declare that people were secretly trolling groups just to destroy neurodiverse relationships.

But I did wonder.

And that experience played a big part in why I eventually created my own group.

I wanted a space for those of us who are actively trying to make our relationships work.

Not a space where leaving is forbidden. Not a space where every problem is blamed on autism. And not a space where someone in the middle of a painful moment is automatically told to "just leave."

Because some of us have been there.

Some of us have wrestled with whether we should give up. Some of us have wondered whether things could ever get better. Some of us have been exhausted, confused, hurt, or simply overwhelmed by trying to understand a relationship that works differently than we expected.

And sometimes, what we need in that moment isn't someone telling us to walk away.

Sometimes, we need strategies.

We need perspective.

We need someone to help us understand the differences between us.

We need practical tools for communicating, connecting, setting boundaries, and handling the challenges that come with a neurodiverse relationship.

And sometimes, we simply need someone to say:

"I understand. You're not the only one struggling with this. Let's figure out what might help."

That's the kind of group I wanted to create.

A place where we can be honest about the hard stuff without automatically giving up on the relationship.

Because supporting a neurodiverse relationship doesn't mean pretending everything is perfect.

It means being willing to ask:

"Is there a way forward?"

And if there is, let's find it together.

Lastly, this is a final important view I wanted to share with all of you!

My Views On: Giving Up on Your Relationship

That said, I am not saying you should stay in your relationship at all costs, or even stay if one or both of you have decided that you want to end things. I especially am NEVER saying to stay in spite of things like abuse, safety issues, etc. As I always say in my book, and it bears repeating when your safety is called into question: choose safety!

What I am saying is that, if your relationship is safe and you are considering saving it, I believe your decision should come from a place of understanding—not simply from frustration, confusion, or not knowing what else to try.

Your decision should ultimately be based on what is in your heart, what you want for your life, and what you believe is best for you and your relationship after you've had the opportunity to learn, try appropriate strategies, and understand the differences between you and your partner.

I look at it like this:

Learning to read as a child—or even learning to read as an adult—can be incredibly difficult. There may be frustration, confusion, and plenty of moments when you think, "I don't know how to do this."

Someone may ultimately decide that learning to read isn't something they want to pursue, and that's their choice.

But simply giving up because it is new, difficult, or unfamiliar, without first having the right instruction, support, and strategies, may not give that person enough information to know whether they truly couldn't learn—or whether they simply hadn't been taught in a way that worked for them.

I believe relationships can sometimes be similar.

If you are struggling because you don't understand your partner, your partner doesn't understand you, communication keeps breaking down, or you've never been given practical strategies for navigating your differences, it may be worth exploring those things before deciding that the relationship itself is impossible—provided the relationship is safe and both people are willing to participate.

This is why being careful about the books, groups, coaches, therapists, and other sources of support you choose is so important.

The advice you consume can influence how you see your partner, how you see yourself, and ultimately how you see the future of your relationship.

So if your goal is to make your neurodiverse relationship work, you want to surround yourself with resources that actually support that goal while still being honest about the challenges involved.

And I won't just stand here on my soap box telling you what to do. 😉

Instead, let's get practical.

Here are my tips for choosing the right books, groups, support, and other resources when your goal is to make your neurodiverse relationship work.

15 Signs You've Likely Found a Helpful—or Unhelpful—Resource for Your Relationship

If your goal is to understand your neurodiverse relationship and, when appropriate and safe, find ways to make it work, how can you tell whether a book, group, coach, therapist, or "guru" is actually helping you?

Here are some red and green flags I personally look for.

🚩 Red Flags — Put It Down or Leave the Group

1. It jumps straight to "leave" without first helping you understand your options. Leaving may absolutely be the right choice in some relationships. But if a resource treats ending the relationship as the automatic answer to every problem, it probably isn't giving you the tools you're looking for.

2. It blames one partner for "the problem" instead of looking at the relationship dynamic. Relationships are made up of two people interacting with each other. That doesn't mean both partners are equally responsible for every problem, but reducing an entire relationship to one person being "the problem" rarely helps anyone understand what is actually happening.

3. It promises to turn your autistic partner into someone neurotypical. The goal shouldn't be to erase someone's neurology. It should be to help both partners understand each other, communicate more effectively, and build a relationship that works for both people.

4. It tells you your feelings don't matter because your partner is autistic.

Your feelings matter, and so do your partner's. Any resource that can't recognize the duality of emotions—and understand that both partners' feelings carry equal weight because the relationship belongs to BOTH of you—will likely miss the mark in other areas, too.

5. It tells your partner their feelings don't matter because you're not autistic. Both partners are human beings with feelings, needs, limitations, and perspectives. Autism doesn't make one person's feelings automatically more important than the other's—and being non-autistic doesn't either.

6. Every post or chapter ends in outrage instead of a next step. It's okay to acknowledge that something hurts. But if you're constantly being left angry, frightened, or resentful without being given anything constructive to do with that information, ask yourself whether the resource is actually helping you.

7. The comments section is mostly venting, with little or no strategy. A place to vent can be valuable. We all need that sometimes! But if every conversation stops at "Yep, mine does that too," you may not be getting the practical support you came there for.

8. It uses words like "always" and "never" to describe autistic people as a group. Autistic people are individuals. There can be common patterns and traits, but sweeping statements about what autistic people "always" or "never" do should make you pause.

9. You consistently feel more alone after reading it. Good support doesn't necessarily make every problem disappear. Sometimes learning something difficult can initially be uncomfortable. But over time, good support should generally leave you feeling more informed, equipped, understood, or hopeful—not increasingly hopeless and isolated.

10. It never talks about strategy—only sympathy, blame, or outrage. Validation matters. Understanding matters. But if you're looking for a relationship to improve, eventually you need something you can actually do with what you've learned.

💚 Green Flags — This One May Be Worth Your Time

1. It gives you a concrete next step, not just validation. You should walk away with something you can think about, try, discuss, or practice.

2. It treats both partners' feelings as real and valid at the same time. You shouldn't have to erase one person's experience in order to acknowledge the other's.

3. It admits that some things won't be 50/50—and helps you plan around that instead of resent it. Healthy relationships aren't always perfectly equal in every area. Sometimes one person needs more support in one area while the other carries more in another. The important question is whether the overall relationship feels workable, respectful, and sustainable.

4. It comes from someone who has actually lived it long-term—or has substantial professional expertise—not simply someone with a collection of opinions. Personal experience can be incredibly valuable. So can professional knowledge. Ideally, you're looking for someone who understands the difference between the two and doesn't present personal experience as universal truth.

5. It leaves you with a plan, not just a feeling. Feeling understood is wonderful. But if your goal is to create change, you also need somewhere to go from there.

And speaking of strategies…

If you're looking for a book built around exactly this philosophy, that's what I created Love Across Spectrums to be.

It features 200+ practical strategies for navigating a neurodiverse relationship—because when I was looking for help, I kept finding plenty of explanations, opinions, and validation, but far fewer concrete things we could actually try.

Get your copy here: https://a.co/d/0bJYw4Rk

Have a great week!

-Amy