5 Things That Made Me Stay (Even When It Was Hard)
Beneath the disorganization, the missed cues, the shutdowns—there was someone with deep integrity. Someone who loved me. Who wanted connection, even if he didn’t always know how to access it. I could feel the goodness in him. And that mattered.
— Calla Hart
When people hear “neurodiverse relationship,” they often assume the story ends in burnout or walking away. And sometimes, it does.
But that’s not the only story.
My story includes heartache, yes. Disconnection. Misunderstandings. Loneliness. But it also includes something else—something that’s harder to explain: staying.
And not staying out of obligation, fear, or denial.
Staying with open eyes.
Staying with a deeper knowing.
Staying because love—even complicated love—was still there.
These are five things that helped me stay when everything felt uncertain:
1. I saw who he was underneath the noise.
Beneath the disorganization, the missed cues, the shutdowns—there was someone with deep integrity. Someone who loved me. Who wanted connection, even if he didn’t always know how to access it. I could feel the goodness in him. And that mattered.
2. We shared something real in the quiet moments.
There were moments—on road trips, on the boat, at the water, wrapped in silence—when we felt completely in sync. Those still, connected spaces reminded me of why I chose him in the first place. They didn’t cancel out the hard stuff, but they offered balance. Evidence. Hope.
3. He kept trying, even when it didn’t look perfect.
Progress didn’t come in clean lines. But there were moments of genuine effort: taking a relationship course, working through a hard question, going to therapy. They weren’t always consistent—but they were real. And they reminded me that growth was possible, even if slow.
4. I had done my own inner work.
I knew how to check in with myself. I had language for what I was feeling. I knew my values. And that clarity gave me a kind of compass. I wasn’t staying because I was afraid to leave—I was staying because it still aligned with the version of love I believed in.
5. We were building something new.
Not the love story we were taught to expect. Not the one with seamless communication and synchronized rhythms. But something deeper. Grittier. A love that made space for both of us to be fully human. That kind of relationship requires choice. And I kept choosing.
Staying isn’t about settling. It’s about seeing the full picture—and deciding where your truth lives.
For anyone in the thick of it, wondering if your love is still worth holding: you’re allowed to stay. You’re also allowed to go. What matters most is that you choose from a place of clarity—not confusion or survival.
