Lashing Yourself to the Helm: When Love Gets Hard in a Neurodiverse Marriage

By Dan Holmes

In a neurodiverse marriage, there are seasons when love feels like light—clear, warming, present. And there are seasons when love feels like fog.

In the early days, you may have clung to hope:

• He’s learning.

• I’m healing.

• We’re getting tools.

• God is at work.

But then come the months—or years—when the winds don’t change.

• Communication still misfires.

• Emotional connection feels elusive.

• You try to explain what you need, and it gets rerouted through confusion or defensiveness.

• You start to wonder if you’ll always feel alone in this marriage, even though you’re not alone in the house.

And in those moments—when the horizon shows no sign of progress, and your strength is thin—you need something deeper than encouragement.

You need something anchored.

You need to lash yourself to the helm.

The Helm in the Storm

Picture yourself at the wheel of a ship.

The sea is raging. The wind is howling. You can’t see the stars. You’re not even sure which direction the harbor is anymore.

You want to abandon the wheel.

You want to lay down and let the waves take you.

But you don’t.

You lash yourself to the helm.

You bind your body to the wheel—not because you feel strong, but because you know what direction you must face.

This is the resolve of covenant love.

Not passive resignation. Not self-erasure. But holy, stubborn, eyes-wide-open steadfastness.

Why You Lash Yourself

You don’t lash yourself to:

• Excuse abuse

• Deny reality

• Minimize pain

You lash yourself to stay facing the right direction—even when the storm hasn’t broken.

You lash yourself to:

• Protect your heart from bitterness

• Keep your soul from drifting into despair

• Remember who you are and why you’re here

• Let the ship ride out the storm until God sends wind again

What Lashing Looks Like

1.  Rooting Yourself in God’s Character

When you can’t see change in your spouse, hold fast to the One who never changes.

“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.”

(Hebrews 10:23)

God is not ignoring your cries. He sees the pain. He knows the waves.

2. Clinging to Your Identity

You are not crazy, needy, or too much. You are an image-bearer of the living God. Your emotional needs are not weaknesses—they are reflections of divine design.

3. Committing to Love Without Letting Go of Truth

Loving your spouse doesn’t mean pretending.

You can be gracious and honest, gentle and firm, forgiving and clear about what is needed.

Lashing yourself to the helm means saying:

“I won’t stop loving you. I won’t abandon this. But I will not stop telling the truth about what’s missing.”

4. Finding Safe Harbor in God and God’s People

No sailor survives alone.

Find a counselor, a mentor, a friend who gets it.

Someone who won’t shame you for staying—or push you to stay when safety is gone.

Someone who will pray when you can’t.

And to the Neurodiverse Husband…

You may not see the storm. You may not feel the shift in the wind.

But know this:

Your wife is holding the helm. She’s still facing you.

That means there is still hope.

Lash yourself to the wheel too.

Lean into the discomfort of her perspective.

Don’t try to calm the storm with logic—just stay present in it.

If you want to love like Christ, it won’t be measured by how well you explain your intention, but by how close you stand when she’s hurting.

The Storm Will Not Last Forever

The waves don’t get the final word.

The darkness doesn’t own the sea.

The fog may linger, but the light of God’s faithfulness is never extinguished.

He is not just watching from above.

He walked on water to meet the boat in the storm.

He’s still doing that today.

So lash yourself to the helm.

Face the right direction.

Cry if you must. But don’t let go.

The One who calms storms is with you.

And He never misses the moment when His children choose to love in the dark.