It All Started with a Fork (Signs Your Partner May Be on the Autism Spectrum)

 

Where Did Your Journey Start?

For those of you who are in a relationship with a partner on the spectrum—or who think your partner may be on the autism spectrum—when did you first notice the signs that your partner may be on the autism spectrum?

For me, one thing I have learned over the years in a neurodiverse marriage with a man on the autism spectrum is that every person's diagnosis—and the signs they experience—can be different

Maybe your partner was diagnosed as a child and told you about their diagnosis early in your relationship.

Maybe they were diagnosed as an adult.

Or maybe, like my husband, they didn't know they were on the spectrum until adulthood.

In our case, my husband discovered he was on the spectrum over time, as we built our life together. And somehow, our journey toward understanding his autism all started with a fork.

So Why a Fork?

Well...

Let me explain. Grab a coffee—or whatever you're drinking—because this might take a second!

I noticed that when my husband finally found the fork he had been looking for, he made an unexpected face in our kitchen.

It wasn't a “happy” face or an “ah-ha!” or a “that's where it was!” face.

It was more of a sticking-out-his-tongue-while-biting-the-tip-of-his-tongue-and-sucking-in-his-cheeks face.

And I remember thinking, Okay...well, that's unexpected.

But at the same time, I thought, Live and let live. You do you, Pikachu.

Because his face wasn't hurting anyone. It was just different, and I was—and still am—okay with different.

Actually, I kind of liked how free and expressive the face was. I told him it was cute (because it was, in this innocently adorable sort of way) and asked him why he made it.

He didn't even realize he was doing it.

He simply said, “I don't know. It's just my happy face.”

And honestly, I thought that was unique and cute.

We live in a world of manufactured smiles, judgments, and shame—it was nice to see someone just making their own little “happy face” and living their life.

Yeah, the happy face was starting to grow on me.

But I only saw that face pop up unexpectedly one other time: when he was playing with our dog, Beemz. My husband was very happy, completely enjoying himself, and there it was again.

Eventually, we gave it a name: “Beemz's Face,” because apparently this was the face my husband made while playing with our dog.

At the time, I didn't know what it meant.

I just noticed it.

And that became a pattern in our relationship. I noticed things before I understood that I was noticing them.

There were the faces.

There was also the food.

My husband basically ate the exact same things every single day without fail: honey-battered wings, roast potatoes, and water with a fruity drink mix.

I asked him once if he ever got bored eating the same things.

He said no.

As someone who literally picks my meals by my mood, I could not relate.

I am out here going, “I am feeling like a depressed chicken nugget with a side of honey mustard and some spice since I'm feeling spicy today,” and apparently my husband was perfectly content eating essentially the same meal every day.

At first, I just thought that was one of those differences between us.

Then there were his slowly emerging sensory issues. It seemed like he was experiencing the world completely differently than I was…

The movie we were enjoying together was suddenly “too loud.”

The mild BBQ sauce on the chicken wings that took me forever to make was “too hot.”

The flash from taking pictures together to celebrate some of our happiest moments was “too bright.”

Even the volume of my laugh could be “too much.”

That one made me wonder if I could ever react honestly to a funny TV moment again without wondering if I was being “too loud.”

The thing was, being a native New Yorker, the loud laugh kind of comes with my culture and upbringing in such a vibrant and free-spirited place. So, I felt as much as I wanted to rein it in—that just wasn't “me.”

The thing was, I also realized that loud, unexpected noises just weren't “him.” I guess you could say that I accepted that we were both just being ourselves. I just wasn't sure what to make of any of it—or how to compromise so that we both felt free to be ourselves.

I also began to realize that what I might have interpreted as him being “picky,” “rude,” or particular could have been coming from something else, because it usually seemed to follow a sensory issue.

When I started following the path from “sensory issue → his reaction,” things began to make more sense. It started to seem less like he was simply being difficult about things and more like he was genuinely trying to manage sensory overload.

And slowly, I started realizing that he might not be experiencing the world the same way I was.

Then there was the phone.

He avoided it at all costs.

There was also eye contact.

My husband often avoided eye contact and preferred to look at my lips instead.

In the early days, I honestly wondered if I had lipstick on my teeth.

I would check.

Then check again.

And again.

Because apparently my first theory was that I was walking around with lipstick on my teeth all the time.

Then there was his love of video games and his unusual expertise—what I would later understand as a special interest.

On our first date, he pulled out a huge video game manual and started explaining it to me as though it were as simple as reading the front of a cereal box.

It wasn't.

I was fascinated.

I was so impressed by how passionate and intelligent he was—and I still am.

These weren't things I looked at and thought, “Ah, yes, autism.”

I didn't have that framework yet.

I just thought:

That's my husband.

Some things were funny.

Some things were interesting.

Some things were confusing.

And some things weren't fun or easy at all.

When I Realized Something Was Up

Then my husband experienced his first meltdown.

I remember seeing him in so much distress and feeling completely confused. I wasn't sure what I had said or done, or how I was supposed to help.

It seemed like he was experiencing a mixture of sadness and anger, but it appeared to be directed at himself over a mistake so small that, after all these years, I can't even remember exactly what it was.

I remember asking him why he was taking it so hard.

What was it triggering for him?

He choked back the words, “I don't know.”

And that was the moment something clicked for me.

Neither of us knew.

I didn't know what was happening to him, and he didn't seem to know either.

All I knew was:

Something is up.

And then I thought:

Whatever it is, I want to support him—if I can.

I want to emphasize that last part:

If I can.

Because once I realized something was going on with my husband, I didn't suddenly have all the answers.

I didn't know what it was.

I didn't know how to help.

I didn't know if I would be good at helping.

And our diagnosis journey wasn't some perfectly organized process where we sat down, researched everything, found the right professionals, and calmly figured it all out.

We kind of just fell into being newly married and newly diagnosed at the same time.

Looking back, I realize that I noticed a lot of signs.

But I didn't always notice that I was noticing signs.

And I think that distinction matters.

What I Wish I Had Known

That is one of the reasons I created my free guide, “15 Signs Your Partner Could Be Autistic (That Many People Miss).”

Those 15 signs are based on the kinds of things I missed in my own life and relationship.

I didn't recognize them because I was looking at my husband through the lens of what I already knew.

I didn't have the framework.

And I know I'm not alone.

Recently, I was reading comments from other people online who had started wondering whether their partners might be on the spectrum. It really touched me because I realized that I am finally in a place where I can help guide people through some of the confusion I once felt myself.

So this guide is offered for free—not simply as a product, but as a way to help you feel a little less alone.

I see you, and I understand how confusing this can feel because I've been there too.

No one should have to wrestle with these questions or the emotional strain of looking for answers to better understand someone they sincerely love and want to help, completely alone. So, I hope this guide gives you somewhere to start. 

You can get it for free here:

15 Signs Your Partner Could Be Autistic (That Many People Miss)

www.normalfreedom.com/freeresources

And if you're seeking an official diagnosis for your partner, there are many places to start, including talking with a medical doctor and looking into clinics or qualified professionals who may be covered by your insurance.

I also have a book available on Amazon called “Love Across Spectrums” with 200+ practical strategies for helping your relationship work with a partner who may be on the spectrum.

Even if your partner isn't autistic, I designed the book to focus on practical relationship strategies that can benefit many couples—neurodiverse or not.

Learn more about my books here:

www.normalfreedom.com/books

It Started With a Fork

So yeah, it all started with a fork. When I think back on everything, it still makes me laugh a little that our journey toward understanding my husband's autism started with a piece of missing cutlery. –but yep...

A fork.

And an unexpected face.

At the time, I had no idea that I was looking at one tiny piece of a much bigger picture.

I didn't know that the same person who made that unexpected face while finding a fork would eventually teach me something important about love, marriage, and what it means to support someone without losing yourself in the process.

Our journey to understanding each other is still ongoing, even after all these years.

I don't have every answer.

I don't think anyone does.

But I can share what I've learned, what has worked for us, what hasn't, and the things I wish someone had told me when I was standing where you might be standing now.

So thanks for being here.

If you have questions, you can always reach out to me at amyzo@normalfreedom.com

I'm here to help.

And if there is one thing I hope you take away from our story, it's this:

You don't have to be perfect to love someone well.

Sometimes, you just have to be willing to learn.

And sometimes, the person you are trying so hard to be “good enough” for is the person who has been trying to tell you all along:

You are enough.

— Amy