Last weekend we were extremely lucky to have been given tickets to attend a Premier League match between Manchester City and Wolverhampton Wanderers at the Etihad stadium. We are a Wolves supporting household and the boys were very excited to be seeing our beloved gold and black heroes take on some of the best footballers in Europe.
We drove up to Manchester on Friday evening and stayed overnight in the city centre. As always, when I know I will be travelling somewhere, there were a few restless nights in the build-up and Friday felt a little strange.
The Etihad holds just over 55,000 fans. I can struggle to enter a room with more than two people in and yet I went into the stadium, made the most of the hospitality we were offered (it was quite posh!) and watched an entire match from the stands. So how did I manage it?
The truth is, I had a lot of help. There is no way I could have gone on my own, and I’m pretty sure I would have found it hard if I had been accompanied by anyone other than the people I went with.
When I am with my family, I feel empowered. I would never say I feel confident, and I don’t think I ever stop worrying but when I am with Emma and/or the boys, I am able to do things that I know would otherwise be impossible.
My family know me better than anyone and they, even my youngest 7-year-old, are well aware that I find certain things difficult. This means that when we are together I can relax, knowing they have got my back and will help me to overcome any fears. I made sure we had the tickets (checked and more than double checked) and led the four of us clockwise 320˚ around the stadium (oops) to the East Stand from where we were to enter the rather fancy Citizens’ suite.
From the initial bag checking to the cloakroom, the staff were friendly and relaxed which helped me to feel more at ease. As we approached the dining area the familiar feelings of anxiety began to kick in. As usual I usher the others through first. This may seem like a gentlemanly thing to do but in reality I’m trying to delay going in, and attempting to hide behind my family. I do this a lot especially with the children. I use them as a shield so that people will talk to them and not me and I can also talk to my sons when I start to panic. I would never let them be exposed to any risk and having them with me helps me to get through situations where I would otherwise fail.
It is pathetic and it makes me feel useless but if I have the choice of going somewhere alone or with one of the boys then I’d rather have them there. They know that too. They understand that I can’t go to the bank on my own and they just accept that Dad has to sit at the back to watch the school play and won’t be standing with the other parents at the football match.
I’d love to be a role model to my boys, and I try to help them to be braver and more confident than I am. I am so proud of them both and am always touched at how they look out for me. They are empathetic, caring and humorous and know how to lift my spirits when I’m down.
We are shown to a table at the edge of the room. Christmas decorations are competing with the ceiling lights and the hundreds of TV screens which are showing replays of the week’s goals and interviews with managers. Thankfully Emma realises quickly and orders us coffee before asking the waitress to explain what food is available. She constantly checks that the three of us are happy and have enough to eat and drink. Typing this now I realise that I’m probably more work for her than either of the kids.
We take our seats just before kick-off. I had of course already located these before the masses arrived. The Wolves fans are singing while the rest of the stadium seems strangely quiet, and the match begins. About fifteen minutes in my youngest takes my hand and squeezes it. He seems to sense that the anxiety is building inside me and knows exactly how to reassure me. We hold hands for a few minutes before he excitedly remembers that cakes are available at half time.
The whistle blows after a crazy first half where our striker has been sent off and the result now seems inevitable. My eldest waits for me at the end of the row and then leads me up the steps back into the dining area. A simple act which makes such a difference to me.
Wolves lose the match with an unfair penalty despite playing very well in the second half. Nevertheless, I am proud of the boys. The team were OK too. 😊
Like so many autistic people I rely heavily upon my family. Having read online forums for spouses of autistic men I am well aware of the pressures and stresses that we place upon our partners. When we feel anxious, we can lose the ability to manage our emotions. We can have mood swings and suddenly become angry or upset for no apparent reason. We might need to be quiet or to be alone. This is usually due to bottling up our feelings and not sharing what is worrying us.
While all relationships require patience and understanding this is especially true when an autistic person is involved. Our reluctance to open up and often an inability to explain how we are feeling must be frustrating. The planning that is required to enable the autistic partner to join in with activities is immense. It is hard, even impossible, for an autistic person to be spontaneous and we appreciate advance warning of any event. However, as with all relationships, the key to success is compromise and the autistic person must try to get involved in family life as much as possible.
The point of this Blog ? Firstly to dispel a couple of myths :
1) Autistic people do not want romantic relationships. Not true. While it may be harder to maintain an intimate relationship, autism does not preclude anyone from having a partner. As with all relationships, compromise is the key.
2) Autistic people cannot fall in love. This is rubbish! Stereotypes suggest we are not able to feel romantic love yet many autistic people enjoy successful long-term relationships.
Secondly to show much can be achieved with the support of a loving partner and family. Challenges can be conquered and fears can be overcome. When I’m with Emma I feel happy, warm and safe. I can do things that I would otherwise not be able to. We look out for each other and I feel more relaxed and grounded when she is with me. Twenty seven years together, two awesome kids and we still hold hands on a walk 😊.
If that’s not love then what is?
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