by Barbara Grant, MMFT, CAS, NDCC
If you do a quick Google search on Cassandra Syndrome, you're going to find reference to the Cassandra metaphor. It generally refers to a person who accurately predicts a negative event or disaster, but their warnings are completely disregarded by others, essentially meaning they are not believed even though they are speaking the truth.
Back in high school, I read The Oresteia trilogy of play by Aeschylus. The first play recounts the plight of Cassandra, who predicts that she and King Agamemnon will sail back to Greece from Troy, only to be murdered by Agamemnon’s wife, Clytemnestra (Cassandra was right… Clytemnestra gets them both!)
In Greek mythology, Cassandra first appears as a figure in the “Helen of Troy” story: she was the daughter of Priam, king of Troy and a priestess of Apollo’s temple. Apollo loved her and gave her the gift of prophecy. When she spurned his love, he cursed her: none of her prophetic visions would be believed or heeded. Through the ages, Cassandra’s plight has become associated with the struggle shared by anyone who is telling the truth but is not believed. (The Terminator films portray a modern-day version: the character Sarah Connor knows “Judgment Day” is coming, but not only do people fail to heed her warning, they also lock her up in a mental ward!)
So, how and when did Cassandra’s legendary problem get associated with the challenges neurotypicals have in neurodiverse relationships?
Back in the 90s, when Asperger's Syndrome became known as a separate diagnosis, a group of people in Massachusetts realized that either one of their children, their husbands, or both, had Asperger's. These people (women) created a group called Families of Adults Affiliated with Asperger's Syndrome (or FAAAS). They coined the term Cassandra Phenomenon to represent their shared frustration that people outside their marriages did not understand or believe they were having relational difficulties due to autistic neurodiversity.
The Cassandra Phenomenon later evolved to Cassandra Syndrome. Then Maxine Aston, a British couple counselor and author, borrowed the term and lengthened it to Cassandra Affective Deprivation Disorder. Aston’s intent was probably to underscore that many symptoms of the “syndrome” were similar to complex PTSD, with respect to how the long-term deprivation of emotional attention and affection caused traumatic suffering in the neurotypical partner.
When neurodiversity is discovered or diagnosed in a relationship, the neurotypical partner often attributes their emotional pain, loneliness, confusion, and cognitive dissonance to the neurodiversity. However, it has become evident to me that the relational trauma experienced by these neurotypicals does not occur in isolation. In my coaching practice, I have yet to encounter a neurotypical person who identifies with Cassandra Syndrome symptoms that does not also present with residual or latent relational trauma from their life prior to the marriage. I suspect that Cassandra Syndrome exacerbates this still unresolved trauma rather than actually causing it.
Whether these unresolved trauma wounds or trauma-informed beliefs caused a neurotypical to gravitate towards their neurodiverse partner remains unclear. However, patterns of relational estrangement and dissociation learned during a person’s developmental stage may cause them to have a higher threshold of tolerance for the relationally difficult behaviors often seen in neurodiverse marriages. Dysfunctional patterns that go unchallenged for years can lead to mutual relational “burn out.” Conversely, individuals who gain a strong foundation in relational health—characterized by a healthy sense of self-worth, clear boundaries, effective communication skills, and an understanding of problem resolution—can significantly reduce the likelihood of missed opportunities for growth. Over time, they are better at positively impacting things from their side of the relationship.
In the Christian neurodiverse counseling world, many neurotypical women (including myself) have identified with the “no one believes me” aspect of the Cassandra label, since for decades, most pastors, biblical counselors, and even marriage therapists consistently failed to identify autism as a factor in distressed marriages. Research shows that the average neurodiverse couple goes through five to seven marriage helpers before they find someone who is equipped to help with the challenges of neurodiversity. It’s no wonder that the Cassandra Syndrome label continues to have traction: it still means something to the neurotypical women (and men) who are having this experience.
(Side note: In some discussions, the Cassandra metaphor has been expanded to include the effects of both ASD and ADHD on not only the neurotypical wife, but on both partners who struggle with what is more appropriately called The Double Empathy problem. In a recent podcast, Dr. Stephanie Holmes pointed out that the Cassandra dynamic may also represents the relationship challenges that occur as a result of “predictive error coding,” which is a weakness more often found in male ASD brain functionality. The neurotypical wife might correctly predict the negative outcome of a questionable decision, but is overruled by the neurodiverse husband. This pattern can repeat, leaving the wife to feel frustrated, exasperated, and like Cassandra, never believed despite having a tract record of predictive accuracy.)
Regardless of why the Cassandra Syndrome term continues to resonate with people, neurotypicals who are struggling to understand and thrive in their neurodiverse relationships fair better with the support of others who can validate and encourage them. Individuals grounded in relational health tend to have firmer boundaries, clearer limits, and healthier standards for relational behaviors, which helps them navigate challenges more effectively.
I have led a number of “Cassandra Recovery” groups for both neurotypical Christian women and men, and in all cases, the relief of finally being understood and believed had significant positive impact.
Such support groups can be safe places to improve relational skills and learn from each other. The curriculum that seems to offer the most benefit is a mix of examining attachment issues, solidifying one’s identity in Christ, practicing healthy self-care, developing boundaries and allowing natural consequences, and learning how to listen and communicate more effectively. The optimal focus is on building emotional, physical and spiritual resilience – and never on bashing or blaming the neurodivergent spouse. I believe that the common acceptance group members have for each other’s truth is what allows them to stop explaining and describing their challenges, and to focus instead on overcoming them.
Because Christian neurotypical women perennially find Cassandra Recovery groups to be helpful, I recently began an online community for these women: members can “drop in” to a weekly Thursday night 90 min. Zooms and enjoy a 15-20 min lesson specific to their recovery. Then the group can ask questions, share strategies, and encourage or pray for each other. Attendance is by membership (available on a monthly or ongoing basis), and free one-time guest passes are available upon request (click HERE).
As long as truth is known and suppressed or denied (for whatever reason), the Cassandra dilemma will likely live on. Hopefully in time, with more education and support, it will no longer be associated with a misunderstanding or denial about neurodiversity in relationships!
Tune in to a discussion between Featured Coach, Barbara Grant and Dr. Stephanie Holmes at: