Rethinking Autism for Autism Acceptance Month
Over a decade ago, when my first child was diagnosed with what was then called Autism Spectrum Disorder, it made perfect sense to me.
At the time, I believed what many people still believe. If someone struggles to meet what the world calls normal, there must be something wrong with them. The word disorder fit neatly into that understanding, one shaped by culture, by systems, and by a society that rarely questions its own definition of normal.
I remember turning to my child, through tears, and saying,
“I’m so sorry.”
Not from a lack of love, but from a genuine belief that they had just been told they were broken.
What I did not know then was this. There is another way to understand autism and the scripts we are handed, and once you see it, it changes how you see everything.
The Stories We’re Told About Autism
At that point, the only narratives I knew about autism were rooted in tragedy, something to overcome or something to feel sorry for. The stories we absorb shape how we respond to difference.
My child had already been diagnosed with ADHD at seven. Even before that, it was clear they experienced the world differently. Friendships were difficult to navigate. School felt overwhelming. Family events often ended in tears, with too much noise, too much light, and too much unpredictability.
Before diagnosis, I misunderstood them. I saw behaviour instead of overwhelm. I saw difficulty instead of distress. There were moments where I thought they were being challenging, and moments where I believed they were making things harder than they needed to be.
Looking back, that is painful to admit. It is also honest, and honesty is often where change begins.
A System That Could Not Flex
As my child moved into secondary school, the gap between who they were and what was expected of them became impossible to ignore.
The sensory environment alone was intense. Crowded corridors, bright lighting, constant background noise, alongside shifting routines and unclear expectations.
School became something to get through rather than somewhere to feel settled.
Like many parents, I tried to work within the system. I attended meetings, chose my words carefully, and asked for support in ways that felt reasonable and measured.
Behind those conversations, I was watching my child gradually unravel under expectations that did not adjust to them.
Their mental health began to suffer.
That was the point where something shifted for me.
The Moment Everything Changed
There was a moment, quiet but significant, where something became very clear.
My child’s happiness, identity, and sense of self mattered more than any external measure of success.
That realisation did not come with a neat plan. It came with a shift in direction.
It marked the beginning of a different way of understanding, one that eventually led me towards neuro affirming practice.
Listening Differently
Around that time, I began listening more closely to autistic adults speaking about their experiences.
What they described did not sound like a broken way of being. It sounded like people navigating environments and expectations that did not take their needs into account.
It challenged what I thought I knew about success, wellbeing, and what it means to live a meaningful life.
Through this process, I began to recognise something that had previously been easy to overlook.
Understanding Ableism
Ableism often sits quietly underneath everyday assumptions about what is considered appropriate, successful, or acceptable.
It shows up in classrooms that expect stillness.
In workplaces that reward sameness.
In services that expect people to adapt rather than asking what needs to change.
It does not always look harsh. Often, it looks like normality.
Many of us carry it without realising.
When Professional Knowledge Meets Personal Reality
I am a parent to three autistic children, a psychotherapist with over twenty years of experience and I am also an EMDR accredited consultant supervisor. Aside private practice and supervision, much of my work now involves training organisations to make their approaches more accessible for neurodivergent people.
Neurodivergence has become a central area of interest in my work.
There is a certain irony in that.
Despite years of supporting clients to make sense of themselves, and a particular strength in case conceptualisation, I missed my own neurodivergence for a long time.
I could see it clearly in my clients.
I could see it in my children.
It simply was not something I had recognised in myself.
That realisation has stayed with me as a reminder of how easy it is to overlook what sits closest to us.
Neuro Affirmation Is Not a Buzzword
Neuro affirming practice is often spoken about, though not always fully understood.
It is not a rebrand, a checklist, or simply using different language while holding onto the same assumptions.
People tend to notice the difference.
Real neuro affirming practice involves ongoing reflection. It requires a willingness to examine biases, question training, and sit with discomfort when familiar frameworks no longer fit.
Affirming practice does not deny struggle. It does not minimise distress or ignore the need for support. It recognises that people can experience significant challenges while still being fully valid in how they think, feel, and experience the world.
It moves away from ranking whose way of being is more acceptable and towards a position where everyone is equally worthy of understanding and care.
What Autism Acceptance Really Means
Autism Acceptance Month invites a shift beyond awareness.
Awareness tells us autism exists.
Acceptance asks what needs to change so autistic people can genuinely access support and live well.
The intersection between neurodivergence and mental health is significant.
Autistic people experience higher rates of suicidality, trauma, burnout, and misdiagnosis. ADHD is associated with increased risk of addiction, and neurodivergent individuals are overrepresented in eating disorder services.
These outcomes are not simply about individual vulnerability.
They reflect what happens when difference is misunderstood, unsupported, or repeatedly pushed to fit expectations that do not adjust.
The Unexpected Teacher
I have spent years working as a therapist, supporting people through complex emotional experiences.
Nothing prepared me for what my child would teach me.
They became my greatest teacher without ever setting out to be.
What Acceptance Looks Like in Practice
Acceptance is not abstract. It shows up in everyday interactions.
It involves a shift in how difference is understood, a willingness to examine assumptions, and an openness to adapting our approach rather than expecting people to adapt themselves.
It means staying curious, listening carefully, and recognising that each person’s experience is valid, even when it looks different from what we expect.
A Different Way Forward
Change does not come from good intentions alone. It comes from noticing where our approaches are not working and being willing to do something differently.
That might mean adjusting environments, rethinking expectations, or questioning long held ideas about what progress, engagement, or success should look like.
From Awareness to Acceptance
At the beginning of this journey, I believed my role was to help my child learn how to manage within the world as it was.
What I have come to understand is this.
Support is not about helping someone become more acceptable to the world. It is about creating conditions where they can exist without having to override who they are.
Autism Acceptance Month is not just about recognising difference.
It is about responding to it with respect, with flexibility, and with a genuine willingness to change.
