My husband was diagnosed with NLD two years ago. It was a tremendous relief for him to understand, for the first time, why he always felt that something was missing. Something was missing. In fact, from what I have read (as much as I can find), he fits the profile to a T. He started reading the newspaper when he was three years old. His handwriting is difficult to decipher. He had trouble with geometry and algebra but was very proficient at addition. He is naturally disorganized and has trouble creating his own structure. He often needs explanations for things that I take for granted. He can’t remember where things are but is incredible at recalling thousands of facts and details.
He appears “wooden” and speaks in a monotone – except when he tries to vary his intonation and sounds singsong. He has had many problems in social situations. And more. But he is an affectionate, gentle, and caring partner who accepts me — and I love him dearly. We met in mid-life and have been married less than two years. I hope we will live long lives together.
We were told that there was no treatment for, or research about, adults with NLD. So, over the last two years, we have invented our own tools to deal with his deficits in executive function, visual/spatial perception, and social skills. His doctor prescribed Ritalin, which has helped him manage frustration and fury, deal with anxiety, and find the resources to develop better organizational skills. We bought a desk that has “pigeon holes” for his files, documents, and accessories. We have shelves and compartments in our closet and labels on our file drawers. And he has started keeping lists. He carries a small spiral notebook and uses Microsoft Outlook, a highly structured calendar with task lists, reminders, etc. We use a phrase, “Take a picture,” to help him form visual memories of where he has put things.
I am very direct with him about social cues and social behavior. He works hard at listening, modulating his humor (word puns), judging when to pause, and recognizing that he often prolongs conversations when others are ready to move on. We have agreed on codes that I can use to cue him. He has mastered eye contact. In fact, sometimes he forgets to blink!
My husband is a wonderful example of someone who strives – consciously and often successfully — to compensate for his NLD. Life is still hard for us. Until recently, he has been an attorney in solo practice, which he feels is not a good fit. He is looking for a job — such as an attorney in a public agency or with a small firm — that will offer him more structure. It has been a full year now and he has been repeatedly disappointed. He is so persistent — and resourceful — at networking, using the placement offices at his law school and university, practicing his interview skills, etc. He looks great. He has a strong resume. We don’t know why he is having such difficulty finding a job. We wonder if interviewers may pick up something about him – that, in fact, his NLD is influencing how he presents himself and how people perceive him.
I do what I can — but I am human and become frustrated. I am patient but not always gentle. Sometimes I become exasperated and critical – even though I understand the root of the problem and genuinely want to be helpful.
Everything I have read about NLD is oriented toward parents, educators, and professionals. I often adapt these strategies to our situation. But my role in our relationship is different, and I am not always sure about the best way to support my husband — who is not a child but my life partner, lover, and friend. I’ve seen your link for “Adults with NLD” on the website (which is terrific) – but there is so little for adults. There needs to be other resources for partners and/or adults who were diagnosed with NLD in mid-life?
-Sue