Hi! So yes, Alexithymia is a very real thing, and I do experience it. Be forewarned, this will be long, but I hope you get something out of it.
As part of my self-discovery journey post infidelity, I went down more than a few rabbit holes regarding mental health. First I began exploring my sensory processing issues after describing some childhood events to my therapist that apparently are not just "normal" reactions kids have to tags, food textures etc. Which then lead me to exploring ADHD. Which then led me to Autism. I am now proudly self-diagnosed autistic, and being a part of neurodivergent communities, especially those surrounding ADHD and Autism in women, has been incredibly eye-opening and affirming. Self diagnosis is widely accepted in the autism community considering that assessments can be difficult to come by, and prohibitively expensive. And also given that SO many people go undiagnosed if they are considered "high-functioning" enough, especially if they are women, or fall into any other underrepresented categories.
It's all a spectrum, so no two people will act exactly alike, but if you spend enough time in neurodivergent spaces, you'll find a considerable amount of overlap. It's why the diagnostic criteria, while helpful, are not really the only things you should be looking at. I found the shared experiences with others to be FAR more affirming than any list of diagnostic criteria ever was, mostly because the criteria reads as a list of deficits, whereas discussing similarities with peers felt much more like all of us letting each other in on each other's quirks, and even celebrating them. In the beginning I had multiple moments a day of "OMG! I'm not the only person who does that??"
That being said, Alexithymia was one of the aspects of the spectrum that really resonated with me, especially when I saw it described by other autists, rather than just reading the clinical definition. It's not that I don't feel emotions. I feel them very, very intensely. But when asked to name what emotion I'm feeling, it's like my brain shuts off. Like a switch was flipped and now I'm at a complete loss for words.
Not because I am not acutely aware that I'm feeling something. But because I feel very limited by the request to define that feeling in such simple terms as a single word. Like it's not possible to capture all of the nuance of the very specific feeling I'm feeling, and limiting it to one word feels incorrect or wrong. I often use pretty complex metaphors to explain a feeling, but still have a significant amount of trouble actually identifying the feeling.
As you said is the case with your husband, I can identify the feelings of stress, frustration, anger, or sadness pretty easily. Anything more nuanced than that, and I struggle. Even positive feelings are very difficult for me to identify, in part because one simple word doesn't seem to do it justice. Also, I find emotions to be very overwhelming, because no matter what the feeling, I feel it very intensely and deeply, not just emotionally, but physically.
For example, I describe the feeling of being anxious as feeling "buzzy," because I literally feel like my body is vibrating. Like when I found out my brother was in the hospital, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it, I felt completely, overwhelmingly "buzzy," like I couldn't sit still.
But that feeling is actually not that far off from when I'm incredibly happy - when I'm giddy, I also could absolutely shake with happiness. I guess it's like the emotions are brimming over and they have nowhere to go?
And I will cry over just about any emotion if it is felt strongly enough - extreme happiness, sadness, frustration, anger, appreciation, nostalgia etc. I once cried of embarrassment because I kept falling over in a yoga class - I was 31 years old, and had to excuse myself from class over it. And even though I don't even *want* to cry in these situations, the tears just come up anyway. Like the only way for my emotions to escape is through my eyes. And I can only identify that emotion from that yoga class as embarrassment now, in retrospect. At the time I probably would have told you I was frustrated. Because that's how difficult I find it to define my emotions, especially in the moment.
I would say frustration is my most easily identified emotion, probably because it's the thing I feel most frequently. I actually got in the habit of pulling up an emotion wheel/chart when I'm in therapy because my therapist has asked so many times, and it frustrates the living hell out of me to not be able to give an answer. And I do absolutely everything I can to avoid frustration, hence the pulling up of an emotion wheel.
There is an app for it too that's supposed to help identify emotions, I don't think I'm allowed to mention specific apps or sites, but if you google it I'm sure it would come up.
Basically, there are 4 categories of emotions:
High Energy/Unpleasant
High Energy/Pleasant
Low Energy/Unpleasant
Low Energy/Pleasant
Then there are a bunch of different emotions that fit into each category. And once you pick one, it also shows you the other emotions that are right near that one. And once you pick the emotion, it asks what you're doing, and if you're able to identify the cause of that emotion. It then asks if you would like to stay in that emotion, or change it, and if you want to change it, it gives suggestions on how to do that.
I'll admit, I'm pretty bad about using the app regularly. But if I've ever gotten really bad and just couldn't get out of a thought loop, it has helped. Though I can get into a place where absolutely none of the emotions feel "right" to me, and then I am frustrated that I'm being "forced" to pick one, because nothing seems to encapsulate what I'm feeling correctly, so then I'll just give up and exit the app.
I would say that it's worth looking into neurodivergent spaces to see if anything resonates. Not all autistics identify as low/no empathy. Many (myself included) identify as hyper empathetic. There's just a big difference between cognitive empathy vs. affective empathy. For example, I often feel other people's feelings to an extreme degree, like, physically feel them in my body, and I work hard to not let those bleed over into my own reactions to things. In fact, because of this, I'm incredibly adept at identifying other people's emotions, while being terrible at naming my own.
A lot of people would say that is a trauma response, and I'm not denying that either. But my ability to pick up on the tiniest nuances in other people's behavior is uncanny at times (I've often been accused of spying on people, or of being "psychic") and this is something I simply don't have any recollection of ever NOT being good at it, like it has always been a part of who I am. And it is a commonly shared experience among many of the women I've spoken to in neurodivergent spaces, so while I think it can certainly be exacerbated by trauma, I don't think it's exclusive to that - some of us are just born that way. I don't believe in psychic powers, but I do believe in being very attuned to behavior and having very finely tuned pattern recognition, and some people are just better at that than others.
When push comes to shove, truly ALL behavior is on a spectrum, and every person is going to react differently given their own makeup, upbringing etc. My ex husband (the raging sex addict with BPD who I also firmly believe to be on the spectrum) had similar issues with Alexithymia, but he chose to act out and emotionally regulate in VERY different ways than I did. It really angered him that while I had a hard time identifying my own emotions, I was still able to connect with people on an emotional level, whereas he struggled heavily in that arena.
I do think I felt an affinity towards him because we were able to understand each other in ways that others who did not have these similar experiences could not. Like, while I didn't have the same social issues he had, I could see why/how he had difficulties and could relate, so I was more empathetic to his struggles. Even though neither of us knew we were neurodivergent at the time, it's my understanding that it's common for people with these identities/tendencies to flock to each other, even if they don't know why. He always said I understood him better than anyone ever had. I agree with him, I did. It also meant I tuned in to his bullshit pretty easily, and he did NOT like being that exposed and vulnerable, which lead to all of the craziness that was my marriage.
My 0.02 cents is that your husband may benefit from looking further into Alexithymia in general. If I understand correctly, it's not just autism related, but is also tied to depression and anxiety. In any case, diving into my own mental health and finding spaces where I could relate to others who experienced similar issues has been incredibly freeing. I've learned a lot about myself in the process.