A New Template

By Mary Gable (pen name), an NT Wife

Part 1

While chatting with a friend several years ago, she referenced the word

schemata. While I’d heard it before, I walked away with valuable insight after years of marital confusion.

Miriam Webster defines schemata as: a mental codification of experience that includes a particular organized way of perceiving cognitively and responding to a complex situation or set of stimuli.

Between my spouse’s memory lapses and his hulk like defense mechanism,

varying recollections collide, making conflict resolution untenable. Constant

discrepancies leave us without schemata. Thus, for years, I’ve lived in emotional disarray.

But when my friend spoke about schemata, I had a new understanding for my angst. So, at the height of conflict last summer, I bought a container of colored children’s blocks, hoping to build a visual schema we could rely on.

But as I hot glued blocks together and assigned ideals to each one, I quickly realized my spouse would not adhere to my perspectives. And when he announced he would build his own, I stopped working on mine.

Within months we met with our fifth counselor. As my spouse appeared willing to listen to the tattooed male, I grew hopeful that we would find a way to problem solve together. But many more months later, as opposing opinions and memories have confused our counselor, I’ve come to realize I have to create an entirely new template for my marriage.

It’s important to note I’m writing as someone who is not in a position to leave her marriage. On my best days, I believe I’m staying out of obedience to God. But please note, I recognize others in my situation might choose to leave a union like mine.

So, read the following, knowing these words come from the heart of someone choosing to stay and recalibrate. Not because its comfortable but because in my situation, where my spouse has yet to admit he’s autistic, it’s a necessity.

1) We will never build a schema, no matter how many blocks I buy. That doesn’t mean I can’t build one of my own. It just means, my spouse and I together will never grow from past issues that inform today.

That said, let me pause and admit never may be an overstatement. But for

today’s purposes, I’m leaning into radical acceptance, creating a template that allows for realistic expectations. If I accept never—which is the opposite of what I’d been hoping —perhaps I can live with a peace I once thought impossible.

2) When my spouse feels cornered, chances are he will rewrite a memory to his advantage. While I have lived this reality for years, it has only come into focus in recent months. You could call it gaslighting, but I don’t believe he rewrites a narrative to damage me, but rather to maintain his autonomy and sense of self. Thus, he doesn’t recognize the harm done.

Detached from impact, he inadvertently assigns blame to my emotional nature rather than taking responsibility for his actions. And yes, that has sent me spiraling more than once.

But it’s time. Time to stand more confident in me. Confident enough to let him be.

To accept his skewed versions without taking them personally. Because…

3) None of it is personal. It has felt very personal more than I want to admit. But as I grow confident in my own convictions and autonomy, the very essence of my marriage changes. We’re never going to be a cohesive couple, living and breathing the same language. No, we’ll remain a two-lane highway, sometimes driving in my lane and sometimes driving in his.

For a recovering codependent, this kind of relationship can feel awkward,

unwanted, and wrong. But, who’s to say it isn’t right for a neurodiverse couple trying to survive?

It’s just very different. But this difference may finally lead to the internal calm I’ve been longing to live.

Part 2

When I started this post a week ago, and wrote all of the above, I felt cemented to this new template. The heavy reality carried a distinct sadness.

But then God surprised me.

My spouse has taken notes when we talk, and I felt a nudge to look through

his notes a few days ago. There on the pages, I read more of his long-held perspectives he’s chosen not to share.

Those perspectives didn’t reflect well on me, but because I’ve grown to where my reality trumps his, we were able to discuss his beliefs with calm. And for the first time, he genuinely received my input. I’d expected push back from having read the notes, but he seemed relieved that I could express his inner beliefs about me with grace when he hadn’t been able to for so long.

At one point he acknowledged that he often feels like I’m coming at him with a red-hot branding iron, shaming and blaming him. Ironically, he often feels that way when I feel like I’m just trying to stand up for myself.

What a baffling conundrum.

But two days later and a few conversations out, I’m beginning to believe we’ve built our first level of schemata: When he feels like I’m branding him, pouring out shame and blame, he’s telling me and I’m able to redirect his emotion.

I’m choosing to not change part 1 of this post because I think it was important step to where I am now. Facing hard truth. Accepting painful reality. Trusting God in the waiting room, unsure if anything would ever change. Today, I feel different. Hopeful yet again. Stronger. Calmer. More self-assured. Man… it’s been a journey. And will still be. But maybe… just maybe… we’re getting somewhere.