Category: Blog Posts

When someone asks me how children fare being raised by a parent on the Autism Spectrum, I think about my own childhood with a strong, smart, practical ‘Aspie’ mom and tell them that it wasn’t easy. As a child, and a NeuroTypical child at that, I longed for my mother’s love—a hug, a smile, a special secret only we shared—but instead, I got healthy food and dental checkups.

Today’s article takes a nostalgic and slightly humorous journey into my childhood, reflecting on life with a mother who, in hindsight, was likely on the Autism Spectrum—though never diagnosed. My mother, Irene, was a fiercely practical woman, shaped by her early years on the North Dakota prairie and the hardships she endured as the daughter of Ukrainian/German immigrants.

A Prairie Childhood

Mom really did walk miles through the snow to get to her one-room schoolhouse, and she didn’t speak English when she started because her family spoke a mashup of Ukrainian and German at home. Oddly, my grandfather listed himself as Hungarian on the U.S. Census when Mom was 11—perhaps an effort to protect his family during WWII, given that he had fled Ukraine as a teenager due to Russian pogroms. Mom lost her mother, Emilie, to diabetes when she was only two, a loss that shaped much of her life. She grew up “dirt poor,” as she used to say, sleeping on a mattress filled with corn husks and wearing dresses made from bleached flour sacks. She rode plow horses bareback for fun—because, yes, they had plow horses on the farm.

The Transition to Oregon

Mom and her father eventually left North Dakota for Oregon, where he worked in the shipyards building warships. As a teenager, Mom was expected to work, so she found jobs in cafes and later bars. She was beautiful, which helped her secure jobs in public service, but even as a child, I knew she was different from other mothers. She never hugged me, rarely spoke to me, and treated my sister and I as if we were livestock—feeding, clothing, and sheltering us, but without emotional connection.

A Life of Practicality

Mom was ahead of her time in some ways—she had a compost pile and a backyard vegetable garden in the city suburbs when no one else did. She grew herbs on the windowsill and snipped them into salads and stews. My toothbrush had natural boar bristles, which would break off in my mouth as I brushed with baking soda. She made sure I brushed my hair with a boar bristle brush, too, to distribute the natural oils.

She burned paper and cardboard in the fireplace and used the ashes in the garden. Everything was made from “scratch”—bread, pasta, even meals “stretched” with cottage cheese, beans, and tuna. Sugar was rare; a “dollop” of honey was her sweetener of choice. My after-school snacks consisted of apple slices and celery sticks, with an occasional whole-wheat fig cookie from the city’s only health food store. Every Wednesday, we had liver and onions, which I still detest.

Mom read voraciously, absorbing everything about nutrition and child-rearing—at least the physical aspects. She knew smoking was harmful when she was pregnant with us, even though people claim no one knew in the 1950s. But once we were born, she resumed smoking, unaware of secondhand smoke dangers. She was thrifty about her cigarette habit, not wanting waste money. She rolled her own cigarettes, and sometimes I helped, pinching the tobacco into the rolling machine.

Speaking of Frugality

Our dishes were Melmac—practical and unbreakable. If I got sick, I was sent to bed early to “sweat it out.” She gleaned fields for fruits and vegetables and canned everything, though I always found the pale peaches and gray cherries unsettling. She repaired almost anything with twine and bailing wire, a skill I’ve inherited. No fitted sheets back then—when our cotton sheets wore thin in the middle, she’d cut them in half and sew the outer edges together. Can you imagine sleeping on a seam?

She hated synthetic fabrics, convinced they caused cancer, so our pajamas and clothing were always cotton. She could replace the toilet seal, wash clothes with a wringer washer long after others had modern machines, and used Bluing instead of bleach. There was never a dishwasher—except for my sister and me.

Unsentimental but Brilliant

Mom never decorated the house, save for a patchwork of throw rugs sewn together for carpeting. She repurposed my dad’s dress shirts by removing the collars and cuffs to wear them for sun protection. She was a minimalist traveler—our entire family could pack into two small suitcases for a long road trip. Shoes were optional for her; she preferred sandals year-round so her feet could “breathe.”

The one time she volunteered at school, she took over the Safety Patrol equipment, using PTA funds to buy new reflective belts and flags. The annual Safety Patrollers party? — I hardly remember that.

Mom had opinions about everything—such as believing that if you didn’t use half-and-half in your coffee, you didn’t really like coffee. Or that the only reason her teenagers had acne was because they didn’t bathe properly.

A Life Cut Short

My mother died when I was 25. I had just started my first professional job after earning my Master’s in Social Work degree. Clearly, I had started the journey to find myself by helping others—a practical solution like Mom taught me. I sought out a therapist to help me with all the emotion bubbling up when I learned of her diagnosis. I still remember the phone call I got from her when she told me she had lung cancer. She called me at work—odd—she never called me at work or at home. So this call really sticks in my memory. I asked the therapist to help me process all of this, but all he offered was kindness and support. Years later, I realized when I was writing my first book that what I needed help with was that I was going to lose my mother before we ever connected.

Another distinctive memory is the day my mother made a surprise visit to my apartment. She brought a bouquet of flowers and a gift in a department store gift box. The gift was a beautiful tangerine-colored negligee. Odd gift from one’s mother, but I guess she thought it appropriate for her single daughter. I can’t remember any other gifts or surprise visits from Mom. It’s so ‘Aspie’-like to offer love once in a lifetime.

Mom died of lung cancer at 49, having tried countless ways to quit smoking. She was brilliant and pragmatic but emotionally distant. She would have defended me with her life, but I don’t have the warm, fuzzy memories that many daughters share. No bedtime stories, no cute mother-daughter moments. No albums filled with beautiful, shared memories. Instead she showed me how to work a sewing machine and then left me to figure out the rest.

My Mother’s Legacy

I had to grieve my life first. I was ashamed, always worried that I wouldn’t be loved. I had to be rejected by my own daughters and go through the anguish of losing them before I could come to terms with who I am—separate from the life I have lived. I am not a collection of experiences or memories but I am more about the meaning I have made of my life — the lessons, awareness, and values cultivated.

We often worry about how children fare in NeuroDivergent families, but if we focus too much on what is missing, we may overlook the gifts they receive from their NeuroDiverse parent. We have a lifetime to make sense of who we are, how we are shaped by our relationships and experiences. There are so many twists and turns that you are so much more than the way you were ‘raised.’ We humans make meaning out of life, and it is through that meaning we discover who we are and the mission we are destined to fulfill.

Despite the emotional detachment, I loved my mother deeply, and for years after she passed, I missed her.

I miss how clever she was and how sometimes she was outdone by her cleverness. For example, the time she bought bowling shoes for “cheap,” for my sister and I to wear to school. Even though she bought those bowling shoes on clearance for a dollar a pair, she didn’t count on them wearing out so quickly on our daily walks to and from school. Bowling shoes are designed for sliding, after all. She could entertain my cousins for hours with stories about the constellations, pointing out Orion’s Belt and the Milky Way, and yet forget that all of us kids were hungry.

But it was my quirky mother who introduced me to feminism, handing me books by Betty Friedan and others. She wanted to raise strong, resilient, independent young women—not held back by a patriarchy. ‘Girls can be anything they want!’ she would say.

Her practical, no-nonsense approach to life instilled in me an ability to adapt, to problem-solve, and to find creative solutions in unexpected ways. While I may not have warm, sentimental stories to pass down, I carry with me the strength, resourcefulness, and independence she modeled every day. In learning to navigate the world with her brand of love, I discovered resilience—a gift that continues to shape my life.

Others might remember their mothers through warmth, laughter, or the love that went into homemade cherry pies, but my memories are different. There were no bedtime stories or affectionate moments, yet I was shaped by her ‘Aspie’ love in a way that left its mark. She taught me resilience, ingenuity, and how to make the most of what I had—even if it came without sentimental flourishes.

Today, when I pick up my ball of twine to fix something, or look up at Orion and the Milky Way, I think of Mom—the practical, thrifty, and brilliant woman she was. I never got the bedtime kisses, but I inherited her ingenuity and resilience. That, in its own way, is a legacy too.

Have you ever had a conversation with someone who just couldn’t see beyond the rules, the logic, or the “right way” of doing things? No matter how much you tried to explain the human side of things, they just kept coming back to technical details and procedural correctness?

If so, you’ve experienced what it’s like to be in a NeuroDivergent relationship—or in an HOA meeting.

Today, we’re talking about what happens when rule-based thinking replaces human connection—whether in relationships, workplaces, or entire communities. We’ll explore why some people, especially those on the Autism Spectrum, tend to focus on transactional problem-solving rather than emotional engagement. And we’ll look at how this same rigid, rule-driven thinking leads to dysfunction in institutions like HOA Boards.

Why This Discussion Matters

People often assume that when a leader or partner refuses to acknowledge emotions, they’re being intentionally dismissive. But that’s not always the case.

In many cases, rigid, rule-driven minds simply don’t process emotional information the way NeuroTypical people do.

That’s why, in both NeuroDivergent relationships and bureaucratic institutions, we often see the same three major patterns of dysfunction:

• Rigid Rule Enforcement Over Common Sense
• Transactional Thinking Over Emotional Connection
• Mislabeling Assertiveness as Aggression

These patterns create serious misunderstandings in relationships, workplaces, and governance.

Let’s break them down.

Pattern #1: Rigid Rule Enforcement vs. Common Sense

Many NeuroDiverse individuals view the world in black-and-white terms. They follow rules literally because it gives them structure and predictability.

This can be helpful in certain fields—like engineering, software development, or law. But it becomes a problem when rules replace common sense and human connection.

This is exactly what happens in some NeuroDivergent relationships—and in some leadership positions.

For example, in my community, our HOA Board President is a software engineer who designs AI systems for a living. And he runs the HOA Board the same way he writes code—purely transactionally.

Here’s how it plays out:

• Instead of engaging in real conversations with homeowners, the Board only communicates through unsigned, anonymous emails.
• They refuse to take responsibility for past damage because they “didn’t know about it before.”
• They require homeowners to file formal complaints just to be heard, and ignore submissions that don’t cite a specific rule violation.

This isn’t just bad management. This is rule-based, transactional thinking at its worst.

And in relationships, this same pattern leads to emotional disconnects between NeuroDiverse and NeuroTypical partners.

A NeuroDiverse spouse might say:

• “I didn’t realize you were upset, so why are you bringing it up now?”
• “If you wanted me to do something differently, you should have told me at the time.”
• “I followed the plan exactly—what’s the problem?”

To a NeuroTypical partner, these responses feel dismissive. To a NeuroDiverse partner, these responses feel logical and fair.

And this is where Empathy Dysfunction (EmD) comes into play.

Pattern #2: Transactional Thinking vs. Emotional Connection

This is where the real disconnect happens.

People with Empathy Dysfunction (EmD) often struggle to:

• Recognize emotional cues in real time.
• Express their own emotions in a way that connects.
• Understand why people need emotional validation, not just solutions.

This is why some NeuroDiverse individuals—and some rigid, rules-based leaders—struggle to engage in meaningful emotional conversations.

This happened in my HOA when the Board finally acknowledged that runoff from their property had caused damage to mine.

Did they take responsibility? No.

The HOA President took an AI-driven approach:

• He agreed to fix the problem moving forward, but refused to compensate me for the damage already done.
• He claimed that because he was unaware of the issue for years, he had no responsibility for past harm.
• He treated the situation as a technical repair, not a human issue that had affected my home, my finances, and even my dog’s health.

His wife, Vikki, an IT manager for a government agency, took a similar approach:

• “I just found out about this problem three months ago, and I need time to process it.”
• “I don’t see why I have to pay for something that happened a long time ago. Can’t we just move forward?”

To them, only newly discovered problems are “real” problems. But to those of us living with the consequences, that logic is deeply frustrating.

This is Empathy Dysfunction at work.

This isn’t about malice or indifference. It’s about how some minds process responsibility.

Pattern #3: Mislabeling Assertiveness as Aggression

When NeuroTypical partners—or frustrated homeowners—push back against rigid, rule-based decisions, they are often misinterpreted as being hostile, aggressive, or unreasonable.

• HOA Example: Homeowners who demand transparency from the Board are labeled “difficult” or “troublemakers.”
• NeuroDivergent Relationship Example: A NeuroTypical partner tries to have an emotional conversation, but their intensity is perceived as an attack.

Why does this happen?

Because rigid thinkers struggle to process emotional nuance.

To them, all heightened emotions—frustration, urgency, sadness—feel like criticism or hostility.

This is why real conversations never happen in these systems.

And this is why we need to shift from transactional management to interactional leadership.

Final Reflection Question

“If someone only acknowledges problems once they become aware of them—but refuses to take responsibility for the emotional or financial harm caused before that—how does that affect trust?

And if empathy isn’t naturally there, how do we bridge that gap?”

This article is for those of you who feel like you’re losing your mind, crashing, burning out, or breaking down. Maybe you’re exhausted all the time, making mistakes you never used to make, or feeling like your body is betraying you.

I get it. I’ve been there. We’re going to discuss what’s really happening to you. Because stress isn’t just emotional — it’s physical. If you don’t learn how to protect yourself, it will take you down.

Stress Is Like Water Finding the Cracks

Let’s start with a metaphor. Stress is like water working its way through a crack in the foundation of your house. At first, you don’t notice. Maybe the crack is just a little fatigue, or a small pre-diabetic condition, or some mild joint pain. But over time, the stress seeps in. The walls start weeping. The water starts trickling. And before you know it, your whole foundation is compromised.

I’ve seen this happen time and again in NeuroDivergent relationships. The NT partner takes on more and more, trying to compensate for their ND spouse’s lack of emotional reciprocity, trying to manage their own expectations, trying to keep the family together. And the body starts paying the price.

The Body Keeps Score

We often hear about autistic meltdowns and crashes—and yes, they are devastating. But what about NT crashes? What about the partners who hold everything together until their bodies give out?

• Studies show that NT partners in high-stress relationships have brain scans that resemble PTSD patients.
• Chronic stress causes adrenal fatigue, digestive disorders, migraines, autoimmune diseases.
• I personally suffered from severe headaches, gastrointestinal issues, and broken bones from sheer exhaustion.
• I fell down the stairs. No one was there to help me. My phone was upstairs in my home office. My ankle swelled up like a balloon, and the pain was excruciating. I had no choice but to pull myself up the stairs, painful step by painful step, until I could reach my desk and call for help. My daughter Phoebe didn’t answer, so I had to call a neighbor to get me to the ER.
• On another occasion, I was taking aspirin to fend off a ferocious headache but lost track of how much I had taken. By the time I realized something was wrong, I had probably taken about 15 tablets. I became lethargic, could barely move, and only then did it hit me—aspirin is a blood thinner, and I already have low blood pressure. When I called the ER nurse, she told me to get to the hospital immediately.
• But again, there was no one to help me. I had to make several calls before anyone understood I was serious that I had overdosed on aspirin. When I got to the hospital, the doctor asked me all of these odd questions, like I might ask one of my suicidal patients. I thought to myself, I’m not suicidal… or was I? I certainly wasn’t protecting myself. The body doesn’t wait for you to notice—it breaks down in its own time. Every day you ignore the warning signs, you move closer to the breaking point. The time to act is now.

The Myth of Infinite Empathy

Here’s a hard truth: Empathy should not mean self-sacrifice.

Many NTs believe that if they just love harder, understand more, and stay patient, things will improve. But that’s not how NeuroDivergent relationships work. Your ND partner is operating on a different system—they are often transactional, while you are interactional.

You’re giving them empathy, support, and care. But what are you receiving in return? If the answer is exhaustion, illness, and self-doubt, something has to change.

Many members of my groups keep coming back years later because they know they need this support to stay healthy. They have learned to protect themselves with daily infusions of my podcasts, YouTube videos, and private webinars. They recognize that ongoing support is essential in a NeuroDivergent relationship.

Frank’s Warning—Protect Yourself

I had a therapist years ago, Frank, who never told me to “take care of myself.” He told me to protect myself. And that’s what I’m telling you now.

Taking care of yourself is great, but it’s not enough if you’re still being drained every single day. You need to protect yourself from the stress that is literally making you sick.

How do you do that?

• Set limits on emotional labor—You don’t have to fix everything.
• Recognize gaslighting and emotional exhaustion—If you constantly feel like you’re the crazy one, something is off.
• Stop making excuses for mistreatment—Your health matters. Your well-being matters.
• Use the 7-Step Interface Protocol—This is your roadmap to protecting your heart, mind, and body in an ND relationship.

Because here’s the truth: Love should not make you sick.

You Are Not Crazy, You Are Overloaded

If any of this resonates with you, if you feel like you’re constantly running on fumes, please hear me: You are not crazy. You are not weak. You are overloaded.

And overload is not sustainable. You don’t have to wait until you crash to make a change. Protect yourself now.

Before you move on with your day, take a moment. Ask yourself: How is my body responding to stress right now? What signs have I been ignoring? Write it down. Awareness is the first step to change.

If you need support, head to www.ASD-NTrelationships.com for resources. Take care of yourself, but more importantly, protect yourself.

A new FedEx driver recently delivered a package to my house. As I sat in my dining room where I can see the Pacific Ocean while meeting with my online video clients, I noticed him approaching. Living in a rural area, I rely on various delivery services: UPS, USPS, FedEx, Amazon. I do love the convenience of delivery, and I don’t even mind the accumulation of boxes since I have recycling centers just ten miles away in either direction.

Heading one way, I can drop off my recyclables before stopping at Pelican Brewpub for a light bite or swinging by Chester’s Thriftway for fresh seafood. The other direction offers cute beach shops and a stop for supplies for my animals, Kokomo and Seven of Nine. Either way, the ocean always beckons Kokomo and me—whether at Winema Beach, Neskowin Beach, or Roads End.

When I saw the new FedEx driver approach, I stepped outside to greet him and show him how to open my elaborate retractable gate — designed to keep Kokomo safely inside. He was friendly and noticed my books sitting in the window. With curiosity, he asked, “Are you an author?”

I smiled. “Yes, I am. My specialty is NeuroDivergent Relationships.”

He simply nodded and said, “Have a nice day!” before continuing on his route.

A week later, he was back with another package, this time on a particularly icy day. As he approached, I asked, “How are you doing out there on the road? I hope you’re staying safe.”

He responded with a smile, “Oh, I’m doing OK. I spent eight hours listening to your recordings.”

I was surprised. Looking at his smiling face, I asked, “Oh, do you have family with Autism?”

He replied, “Yes—me. I’m autistic.” He smiled gently, as if seeking approval.

I met his gaze warmly and said, “What do you think? Are my podcasts helpful?”

His face brightened. “My wife is NeuroTypical, and I want to relate to her better. You are so helpful.”

I felt so seen by this young FedEx driver and I felt so hopeful for him when he said, “You are so helpful.” I told him to have a good day. And I said, “Let me know how it goes for you?”

In that brief conversation, I learned so much about him—his commitment to understanding his wife, his curiosity, and his openness. I suggested that he invite his wife to listen to my podcasts so they could talk about them together.

And that, my friends, is exactly why I do what I do.

In this article, we’re diving into a topic that’s deeply personal and profoundly transformational: Empathy Triad Engaged—the Journey to Radiant Empathy.

Empathy isn’t just a trait—it’s a dynamic, evolving state of being. And just like the philosophy of Alcoholics Anonymous, where a person in recovery describes themselves as “recovering” rather than “recovered,” becoming a Radiant Empathy Angel is an ongoing journey.

It’s about embracing growth, courage, and flexibility as we navigate our relationships, our challenges, and ourselves. I’ll share how my own journey—both personal and professional—has led me to redefine the 7-Step Interface Protocol and how a NeuroDiverse man named Richard inspired me to take this work to a whole new level.

My Personal Evolution

My journey as an author began five years after my divorce from a 25-year marriage to a NeuroDiverse man. At that time, I was still grappling with the emotional aftermath of those years and the challenges of parenting two daughters, one NeuroTypical and one NeuroDiverse.

In 2009, I published my first book, Going Over the Edge?. It was written for NeuroTypical partners like me, who felt overwhelmed, frustrated, and, quite honestly, lost in the complexities of NeuroDivergent relationships. As the title implies, I felt like I was going over the edge, trying to balance my family’s needs with my own survival.

By 2013, when I wrote Out of Sight—Out of Mind, my focus had shifted to parenting in NeuroDivergent families. I addressed the heartbreak of feeling invisible in these relationships, particularly in the face of an ASD partner who seemed disconnected from our daily lives.

Then, in 2018, When Empathy Fails marked a turning point for me. I began exploring the serious threat that Empathy Dysfunction poses to NeuroTypical partners like myself. I became a warrior, determined to protect myself and my daughters from the emotional toll of these relationships.

In 2022, I published Empathy Is More Than Words, and everything began to change. For the first time, I shifted my focus from looking at what was wrong in NeuroDivergent relationships to looking at what is right. Instead of centering on the struggles, I explored the transformative power of empathy itself. I introduced the Empathy Triad—Empathy, Context, and Conversation—as a framework to help individuals navigate differences and build stronger connections. This book also gave birth to the 7-Step Interface Protocol, a tool for rebooting relationships and embracing growth.

Finally, in 2024, as I revisited Going Over the Edge? for its Anniversary Edition, I realized the full potential of Radiant Empathy. I expanded the concept and redefined the Empathy Dysfunction Scale to include Empathy Triad Sensitive individuals who hold back their gifts out of fear. This shift—toward seeing what is right, not just what is wrong—became the foundation for my work today.

How Richard Inspired Change

This brings me to Richard—a man in his 70s, diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. He recently reached out to me, expressing how much my work had helped him in his marriage to his NeuroTypical wife.

Richard shared something profound. He said:
“I recognize that I have a developmental disorder and that I struggle with timing, context, and nonverbal cues. But I would rather know what’s going on—going right, going wrong—so I can apply myself.”

Richard went on to say:
“As a 75-year-old Aspie who has only been diagnosed for four years, I’m actually quite pleased, and proud, of the work I’ve been doing with this new concept of Dr. Marshack’s Empathy Triad. It’s given such an improved structure to my Rules, my Work-arounds, and my thinking about my marriage relationship.”

He added:
“I am, however, still having a problem with the concepts of ‘Empathy Triad Blind’ and ‘Empathy Triad Sensitive.’ Dr. Marshack has the two categories as mutually exclusive, and never shall the Aspies of this world gain that sensitivity. I’ve always had a problem with choices that are binary. I feel that there’s always a third option if you’re diligent enough and creative enough to look for it. And Aspies are both.”

Richard offered a new perspective and a term that deeply resonated: Empathy Triad Engaged. He explained:
“Awareness is the first step. Awareness is also the booby prize. Just because you’re aware of something doesn’t mean it’s of benefit to you. You have to be engaged with it before you can implement it successfully. That’s what I’ve been trying to do ever since I came across this blog, doing additional research, and seeking additional advice. In my opinion, I believe that I’m ‘Empathy Triad Engaged.’ But I still have more work to do.”

Richard’s words were a gift. They reminded me that even as an expert, I’m still learning. His courage to grow and engage with the Empathy Triad inspired me to refine the 7-Step Interface Protocol to make it more flexible, more dynamic, and more alive.

The Revised 7-Step Interface Protocol

Let me walk you through the revised 7-Step Interface Protocol, now infused with the concept of Empathy Triad Engaged:

1. Resilience: This is the ability to bounce back from adversity, knowing you’re a beautiful creation capable of creating a better life, better relationships, and a better world.
2. Accept the Diagnosis: This isn’t just about accepting a label. It’s about recognizing that two distinct operating systems are at play. Neither is broken—they’re simply different. Understanding this is the first step to bridging the divide.
3. *Acknowledge the Empathy Triad: Empathy, Context, and Conversation form the foundation for transformation. By acknowledging this triad, you can move from being Empathy Triad Blind to becoming Empathy Triad Engaged—or even a Radiant Empathy Angel.
4. Courage: Growth requires courage. It takes bravery to keep evolving and to engage deeply, especially in relationships where communication styles differ.
5. Taking Breaks: Just as you hydrate your body, taking breaks is essential for emotional balance. It becomes second nature as you master the protocol, giving you space to reflect and renew.
6. Work-Arounds: Respectful strategies bridge the transactional and interactional worlds. They allow you to navigate differences without judgment, fostering mutual respect.
7. Apologize and Forgive: Forgiveness starts with yourself. Let go of guilt and frustration to free your heart for connection. Once you forgive yourself, apologizing to others becomes natural, paving the way for deeper relationships.

Lessons Learned

Richard’s journey taught me that Empathy Triad Engaged is more than a concept—it’s a call to action. It’s a reminder that growth is not only possible but necessary. Even as a NeuroTypical woman and an expert in NeuroDivergent relationships, I am humbled by the lessons I’ve learned from a NeuroDiverse man willing to grow.

This experience has deepened my commitment to helping others, and I hope it inspires you to reflect on your own journey. Are you Empathy Triad Engaged? What steps can you take to become a Radiant Empathy Angel?

Remember, empathy is more than words—it’s a journey, a dynamic state of being. Let’s walk this path together and make the world a more compassionate place.

Until next time, take care, and keep growing.

Today, we’re diving into a deeply personal and emotional topic—what happens when love exists, but connection feels impossible? What do you do when you crave emotional and physical intimacy, but your partner either avoids it or doesn’t seem to understand your need?

If you’ve ever felt alone in your relationship, questioning whether your expectations are too high or wondering why your partner can’t meet you where you are, this article is for you.

And if you’re the NeuroDiverse partner, feeling confused, pressured, or overwhelmed by your spouse’s emotional needs, I invite you to stay with me—because this conversation isn’t about blame. It’s about understanding what’s really happening and finding a way forward.

The Pain of Mismatched Needs

There is a particular kind of grief that comes not from the absence of love but from the failure of love to take a form that both partners recognize. When one person in a relationship craves deep emotional and physical connection, and the other experiences closeness as a transaction to be scheduled, managed, or avoided, a quiet but profound sorrow takes root.

This pain is often hidden, tucked away between moments of shared laughter or logistical planning—times when the couple appears, to the outside world, to be thriving. But underneath, there is a cycle of unmet bids for connection, of trying, failing, withdrawing, and trying again. Each attempt carries with it the hope that this time will be different. And each rejection reinforces an agonizing reality: the love is there, but the bridge between them is broken.

A Moment That Breaks the Heart

I once heard a woman describe a painful pattern in her marriage. Every time she invited her husband to bed, he would sit down at his computer instead. She noticed this pattern and finally confronted him, asking why.

His answer stunned her: ‘Because you have expectations.’

She was left reeling. What did that even mean? Was she not supposed to have expectations in her marriage? Was it wrong to want intimacy with the man she loved?

He struggled to explain further. Because of his alexithymia—his difficulty in identifying and expressing emotions—he could not articulate the deeper truth. But I understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about her. It was that he didn’t know how to meet her expectations, so he avoided them altogether. And in doing so, he made it seem as if she was the problem.

Of course, she wasn’t. Her needs were not unreasonable. But without a framework—like the 7-Step Interface Protocol or Empathy Triad Engagement—they were left stranded in a relationship where one person longed for connection and the other fled from it.

The Silent Cry for Comfort

In my own life, I understand this pain all too well. I remember crying myself to sleep after yet another incomprehensible conversation with my husband. Months, even years, would pass without intimacy. When I asked why, there was no answer—just the eerie stillness of his dilated pupils, as if the gears in his mind had slowly ground to a halt. He could not explain it, could not offer comfort. And so the weight of our relationship fell entirely on me.

I had to make sense of it. I had to adjust, to soften, to work around the void where reciprocity should have been.

Adding Balance for the ASD Partner

Before we go further, I want to pause and acknowledge something really important: this isn’t about painting one partner as the villain and the other as the victim.

NeuroDiverse individuals, especially those with alexithymia, often struggle to process emotions, expectations, and relationship dynamics in the same way NeuroTypical partners do.

For many on the spectrum, intimacy—both emotional and physical—can feel overwhelming. The expectation to ‘perform’ emotionally, to intuitively understand and reciprocate another person’s needs, may not come naturally. And when faced with that pressure, their nervous system does what it’s designed to do—shut down or withdraw. Not because they don’t care, but because they don’t know how to respond in a way that satisfies their partner.

This is why structured frameworks, like the 7-Step Interface Protocol and Empathy Triad Engagement, are so important. They provide a roadmap for both partners to navigate intimacy without falling into the same cycle of rejection, frustration, and withdrawal.

They help the NeuroDiverse partner recognize their own emotions and responses, while helping the NeuroTypical partner adjust their approach so it isn’t overwhelming or perceived as a demand.

The Cost of Adapting Too Much

For many in these relationships, the mind loops in endless circles, seeking a way to translate, to negotiate, to solve. If love languages differ, can they be taught? If physical intimacy feels foreign, can it be reintroduced? If emotions go unspoken, can they be gently uncovered?

And yet, time and again, the pattern repeats. The waiting partner learns to temper their needs, to schedule affection, to accept less. They are told that their expectations are too high, that relationships change, that love does not have to look the way they imagined.

But what if the way they imagined wasn’t fantasy, but simply the baseline for human connection?

At some point, the one who waits must ask: At what cost do I stay? How much of their own identity, their own need for reciprocity, can be set aside before they vanish within the relationship?

Closing Thoughts

This is a painful reality for many couples. But pain doesn’t have to be the final destination. Understanding these differences is the first step toward breaking the cycle.

Remember, you don’t have to go through this alone. Whether you’re the partner who feels unseen or the one who feels overwhelmed by expectations, there is a way forward. It starts with understanding. It starts with empathy.