Well, my dad was AS. Best thing that ever happened to me.
I don't know what my mom's diagnosis would have been, though I am pretty sure she would have had one. What do you call it when someone is painfully insecure, needs a constant diet of praise and needs someone to tell them it's OK to do/be/think something before they can be all right with it??
I think that would be dependent personality disorder. Whatever it was, she never stopped trying to deal with it, and she did all right. Not great, maybe-- she was a sucker for every silver-tongued POS man that came along and would have been a heck of a lot better off if she'd stayed married to the Aspie. But that was something she just couldn't do, and I can only complain so much. They had their own lives to make; whatever they did to themselves, they were really wonderful to me.
Don't flip out too much about genetics, or get all emotionally involved in it (easier said than done, I know, even for us cold logical types). It's not what you have, it's how you deal with it.
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"Alas, our dried voices when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless, as wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar." --TS Eliot, "The Hollow Men"