What I Wish People Understood About Autism

Sometimes I wish people could see what I see – the strength, the tiny victories that mean everything, and how unique my son is. Autism isn’t what most people think it is (and honestly, not really what I thought it was either). There is so much misunderstanding and (I feel) a lot of judgement surrounding it.  It’s a tough pill to swallow knowing that this is how my son is going to be labeled in society for the rest of his life, whether you can tell he has Autism or not. Autism isn’t a one-size-fits-all and no two families’ experiences are the same.

I wish people understood that autism isn’t something to be “fixed.”

When something needs to be “fixed” – it implies that it’s broken. My child is not broken – therefore – nothing about him needs to be fixed. When my son’s life book was written, it’s simply who he was meant to be.  The way he experiences the world, feels, and connects, is just different. The things that make life harder for him aren’t always because he has Autism — they’re the moments when the world isn’t built for the way his brain works.

I wish people understood that meltdowns aren’t bad behavior.

Meltdowns are a form of communication — it is the only way he can say, “I’m overwhelmed,” or “This is too much.” What looks like defiance is often fear or frustration from trying so hard to keep it together in a world that moves too fast. And doesn’t necessarily make sense in his brain. Imagine how frustrating it would be to not be able to communicate your needs or your wants – I know I would have a meltdown if I couldn’t get someone to understand what I needed. Why should this be seen differently with a child (Autistic or not) who can’t communicate?

I wish people understood that milestones look different.

Progress might not always be measured in first words or first steps — sometimes it’s eye contact, a new food tried, or a calm moment during something that used to cause tears. These victories are huge, even if the world doesn’t see them. And they mean everything to Autism parents. For a long time, and honestly still even sometimes - I feel like J and R are behind in certain things because I see other kids doing things I feel like they should be going, kids will do things on their own time and when they are ready - I am working on being better with that mindset. Progress, not perfection-right?!

I wish people would understand that there is a grieving process that comes with a diagnosis.

Grief is the experience of coping with loss. Loss doesn’t always mean someone is gone — sometimes it means adjusting to a new reality. When my child was diagnosed with autism, I grieved the future I had imagined, while also learning to embrace a different, equally meaningful journey.

When you find out you are pregnant , you have this mental picture about all the things you will be able to do with your child as they grow up - and then realizing you can’t do most of the stuff you pictured, it feels like a loss.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still grieving. This is a process. I am doing my best.

Most of all, I wish people understood that autism is not a tragedy — but the lack of understanding often is.

My child’s laughter, his pure joy in the little things, his incredible way of seeing the world — that’s the gift. That’s what I wish others could see first.

Autism doesn’t define my child — but it’s a beautiful part of who he is.

And if the world could see him the way I do, I know they’d understand too. 💙