I’ve taken some time away from the forum, and I’ve had an opportunity to reflect on several things I’d like to address.
KitchenDepth5551 & EvolvingSoul,
Thank you, KitchenDepth5551, for the concern that you expressed. It motivated me to take some time away from this forum. I think that was a healthy choice, and I might not have made it—at least not at this early stage—unprompted.
My time away from this bulletin board has afforded me perspective on how eagerly and enthusiastically I had come to anticipate certain exchanges here. That has been valuable introspection. I do not see eagerness or anticipation as inherently wrong, but you are right that—given my own history of online infidelity—it merits more mindfulness than perhaps I was paying it. I have not ultimately concluded that there was any actual flirting taking place in either direction, but there has been learning from the pause you inspired, nonetheless.
GotTheMorbs and hikingout,
I think GotTheMorbs’s explanation about the unsettling-to-an-observer candor that can arise surprisingly quickly between two AuDHD people was an important insight. I suspect that many people with AuDHD detest small talk; I know I do. Some may cultivate considerable skill in its exercise, but in my experience, it can feel far more authentic and rewarding to skip straight to substantive—and perhaps even personally revealing—conversation.
I believe that dynamic better explains the character of my recent exchanges with GotTheMorbs than the suggestion that we were flirting. Nevertheless, I recognize that the absence of flirting would not, by itself, establish that the developing interpersonal dynamic was entirely without risk.
That brings me to some of hikingout’s observations.
A severely malnourished man who discovers a feast may eat so aggressively that the restoration of nutrition itself becomes dangerous.
I’ve lived with profound social isolation for a very long time. In that context, I probably am exceptionally susceptible to relationship disordering. Relationships of reciprocally enjoyed company probably do—for me—too rapidly assume disproportionate—and potentially unhealthy—significance.
That’s a priceless insight that I haven’t properly addressed to date, and I owe—and offer—hikingout sincere appreciation for that gift. Her concern about my vulnerability to overattachment identifies a genuine risk toward which I need to develop greater mindfulness.
The fact that a relationship has become disproportionate in significance does not, by itself, determine the nature of the attachment. I’ve revisited Tennov’s discussion of limerence in Love and Limerence (1979), and I remain reluctant to use that term for intense nonromantic attachment.
I don’t deny that my OW became, and on some level remains, an intense, nonromantic, nonfungible human preoccupation for me. But whatever terminology one prefers, I recognize that an attachment need not be romantic or sexual to become disproportionate or unhealthy. That’s the part of hikingout’s criticism I have come to appreciate more fully.
I want to return now to hikingout’s feedback regarding my vulnerability to overattachment. There is a genuine tension buried within it. If prolonged social isolation has contributed to my vulnerability, then cultivating healthy friendships would seem to be part of the solution. Yet any friendship, by definition, carries at least some risk of attachment. I cannot develop a circle of friends simultaneously or without first allowing individual friendships to grow while I’m still lonely.
Perhaps the safest friendship for me to grow first—or, more properly in this case, to regrow—is one between my W and me. After all, a marriage is ordinarily the most appropriate primary attachment relationship.
The challenge with which I must learn to cope in pursuing that friendship is that my own infidelity has erected trust impediments to its regrowth. I hope those impediments will not prove insurmountable, but they are not paper tigers, either. Recovery from infidelity is generally a prolonged undertaking, and the longstanding difficulties within our M may complicate that process further.
In the meantime, I am also bereft of my OW’s support. To say that I am profoundly lonely would be no exaggeration.
I have restarted IC, and I have access to the MC for my W and me, but counselors are available by appointment only. I write that with professional respect; I too cannot be available to my patients 24/7/365.25. However, as an innately external processor, when I encounter a stressor, I often need help promptly—not in 1–3 weeks.
Within reason, that is one of the roles of friends. Not that I would call a friend at 3 AM on a Thursday to process a nightmare—and certain core fears and aspirations are properly the province of a deeply committed romantic relationship. Nevertheless, there is a middle ground of non-core emotions bigger than myself that friends might make bearable as "first responders," not "definitive guardians."
Of course, friendship is reciprocal, and I recognize that friends must remain free to determine when and how much emotional support they can offer.
The challenge is therefore not avoiding friendships altogether, but learning how to participate in them without assigning them more significance than they reasonably can bear.
What I can do—and must and will do—is recognize the vulnerability that hikingout has highlighted, maintain appropriate boundaries, watch for signs of unhealthy dependence, and gradually broaden my sources of companionship.
I am not here to win any popularity contest—nor do I imagine I ever would… almost anywhere! But I want hikingout and others to know that I’ve reflected carefully on your feedback, and I genuinely have taken your concerns seriously—even where I continue to disagree with your conclusions.
I hope that my future participation here will reflect that learning, rather than merely my words about it.
Thank you for your willingness to offer that feedback!
