One of the big surprises of learning that someone you love has Aspergers Syndrome is realizing that the “robotic” stereotypes are often misleading, and that Aspies are just as likely to be funny, creative, engaging and loving. In this memoir, Aspie David Finch shows himself to be all of those things -- but he’s also extremely anxious, inflexible, unempathetic and uncommunicative, and all of those issues have severely impacted his marriage and family life. This insightful, touching and amusing book is a chronicle of Finch’s dedicated attempts to be a better husband and father, keeping a journal of “best practices” to guide him.
Undiagnosed until after he was married with two kids, Finch had had a long term friendship become a love affair, which started to fall apart after marriage -- partially because he had unrealistic expectations for a wife, partially because he had so successfully put forth his best “persona” in social situations, but couldn’t maintain it long term. After his wife suggested that he had Aspergers (followed by a formal diagnosis), Dave felt relieved to have an answer to why things have been so difficult and set out to make changes in an analyzed, step-by-step, yet sometimes obsessive way. Of course, part of the problem is that so many aspects of how a relationship works are hard to explain and pin down if you don’t understand them intuitively.
I was worried for awhile that this book was going to be all about the ways Dave is “wrong” and needs to change, but his wife Kristen doesn’t come off as a jerk about it, often telling him, “We can work together to fix our marriage, Dave. This isn’t about fixing you.” (Naturally, Dave being Dave, he immediately takes a note about this.) And I was pleased to see that Kristen does do her share towards improving their relationship, as well as accommodating his debilitating anxiety
One of the gifts of the book is Finch’s ability to communicate about his differently-wired brain in an understandable and funny way:
“My standard line of questioning relating to her day usually sounded so mechanical and awkward that she could never quite get into it: ‘Yeah, it was a good day. Notable? I wouldn’t say notable. Quantify it how, Dave? You mean score it on a scale of one to ten? I guess my day was, like, a six or seven. No, ten being the best. Listen can I call you later?’
In such chilling moments, when I’d found myself hoping--praying--to get carjacked by Charlie Sheen so that I’d have something to share at dinner, I had to wonder what had gone wrong.”
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“A graphical representation of empathy might involve a Venn diagram -- two circle, one for the affective component and one for the cognitive, slightly overlapping, with me standing well outside of both circles talking incessantly about the weather during a funeral.”
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“Sometimes I would sit in my car, furious at myself for making everything so hard, sobbing uncontrollably, slapping myself in the face over and over and screaming, ‘Fucking asshole! Fucking asshole!’ But who hasn’t done that from time to time?”
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“Of all the people I know, I’m the only one who would ever take notes during an ass-kicking.”
(Of course this was a metaphorical, rather than literal, ass-kicking, and Finch goes on to explain how useful the note taking actually was, and how it helped influence real change in his behaviors.)
I sometimes felt sad while reading this, because of how much time and energy Finch spends on feelings and behaviors that he apparently has no idea he might be able to change. He works so terribly hard on becoming a better husband and father, yet doesn’t seem to realize that anxiety and obsessive-compulsive behavior aren’t a fixed part of Aspergers Syndrome and might be treatable.
On the other hand, it was lovely to see him stop beating himself up and find acceptance on some points: “Socializing wasn’t my strong suit, true, but I realized I could find a way to have fun and be fun at parties by contributing my own way. My contributions wouldn’t look like everyone else’s, but that didn’t necessarily matter…. best of all, I wouldn’t have to use a persona anymore. I could just be me.”
The book ends with Finch learning that it’s time to stop his system. “…by the end of the summer it had become clear that the Journal of Best Practices was dominating our lives.” But at that point, communication with his wife and interactions with his children had vastly improved and the story ends on a very happy note. I hope Finch will continue to write and publish, partially because I want to know how his story continues to unfold and partially because I know I’ll enjoy the telling of it.
(reviewed from arc provided by netGalley)