“You sleep a few days a week in your little office in Hachioji, right?”
– “Yeah, it works great for us!”

This is the story I tell in interviews, to friends, but also to myself. I give François space to watch his movies and make noise, while I decompress and calm down. So everything was going great. Right?

Well, not exactly. Because it turned out François hadn’t been very happy for quite a while. He felt trapped and was afraid the situation wouldn’t improve. “My father wanted to call last night, but you were already asleep, so I told him I couldn’t,” he told me recently. “But… you absolutely could have,” I replied, surprised. “You can just call him.” In response, I got an anecdote from over six months ago, when he was on the phone with his mother and my overstimulated brain asked if he could keep it down a little – after all, it was already midnight.

It was just one of many examples of an overstimulated Toeps telling François to quiet down. Music in the car? Not right now. Driving fast in that same car? Preferably not. Movies with surround sound were already out of the question, and lately it seemed like I couldn’t even laugh at jokes anymore. François felt himself shrinking, walking on eggshells around me. Meanwhile, I wasn’t doing great either.

It felt like I was constantly pushing myself past my limits. Our daily rhythm certainly doesn’t help: François works from 1 PM to 9 PM, so if we want to have dinner together, it ends up being late. Too late for me, really. I noticed that I was often sitting around waiting for him to come home, hungry and irritated. I kept time free for him under the banner of quality time, but in reality it turned into dead-on-the-couch-in-front-of-the-TV time. After a long workday, he didn’t have the energy left to really listen to my stories, which made me even grumpier than I already was. (And for anyone wondering why we don’t do things in the morning: François sleeps until 11 or 12, and usually goes to bed around 5 AM.)

Whenever I went to Hachioji, I mostly slept. I would feel refreshed and sharp again for a little while, but after a day and a half back at home, I’d be right back where I started. Even though I still like Hachioji because I don’t have to do anything there, I also find it frustrating that it’s an hour away from our house. At one point I thought the solution to all these problems was buying a house. More space would mean we’d get in each other’s way less. But François didn’t want to, which only made me more frustrated.

Honestly, I don’t think a house alone would have solved things. Because although practical solutions are often what ultimately fix problems, there’s usually an important step before that: talking.

François is someone who always tries his best to stay cheerful, rarely complains, and almost automatically says that everything’s fine. Until the bomb goes off. Meanwhile, I could tell something was wrong (for example, when I was in the Netherlands, we barely called each other, and if we did, it was usually because I initiated it), but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, which made me more overstimulated and less pleasant to be around. And then last week, François suddenly said: “I don’t know if I want to keep doing this.”

Finally, we talked. The examples came pouring out. “Six months ago there was this. Five months ago there was that. When I was in France, my friends said…” It honestly hurt so much to hear how trapped he had felt. At the same time, I also felt he should have discussed these things with me. Preferably right away – half the time I barely even remembered the situation anymore, or why I had reacted the way I did.

Look, I know I’m difficult sometimes. When people say I can’t possibly be autistic because I do X, Y, and Z, I sometimes think: talk to François. He’s the person who experiences me up close and has to deal with all my limits and overstimulation. Generally speaking, he handles that really well. But sometimes things slowly creep in. Things that should have been discussed, but were left alone for the sake of keeping the peace.

“You two really need to communicate,” my father told me. “You’re both sitting on separate islands,” Charlotte said when I talked through these issues with her. So yesterday, we decided to hold a meeting. A “where do we go from here?” conversation.

Thankfully, we are moving forward – but with a number of new “rules”. We’re going to sit down once a week for a check-in. How are things really going? Is there anything you’re unhappy about? François is going to try harder to speak up immediately when something is bothering him. And then we’ll look for a practical solution together.

We also decided to be more proactive with planning. François’ work schedule is what it is, and he enjoys staying up late so he can talk to friends and family in France, so that’s not going to change. I promised him he can always make phone calls – but if possible, I’d like to know in advance when. That way I can mentally prepare myself, sleep with earplugs, or plan my nights in Hachioji around it. I need to stop waiting around so much and accept that there simply isn’t much quality time during weekdays. Instead, we want to intentionally plan things together during the weekends. François is wonderfully busy and has lots of hobbies and friends, so if you don’t plan ahead, his schedule fills up quickly. That sometimes frustrated me, but hopefully this will help prevent that.

On top of that, bigger practical solutions are already on the way. I’m still working on selling the office in Hachioji. Yesterday, we took a walk past two potential new apartments in our neighborhood. If I have my office/apartment within walking distance, it’ll become much easier to take time for myself. But even that required conversation. Aligning expectations. “Will you come spend an evening with me every now and then?” I wanted to know whether he would resent me for being away more often – because yes, on one hand I know he wants space, but on the other hand it still feels like I’m abandoning him (and the cats!) whenever I leave – and how we’d handle everything financially.

I feel so much better now that we’ve talked about all this. And because we were already planning out the week, we also immediately started looking at a few fun outings for the two of us – in a way that works for both of us. But I wanted to share this with you to show that it’s not always perfect. That even when you have your own space, or certain agreements in place, you still need to evaluate them from time to time, adjust them, and critically question them when one of you no longer feels good about the situation.

That, too, is autastic living.