Dear Reader,

There is so much pressure put on parents of autistic individuals.

Pressure to manage behavior.
Pressure to improve social skills.

Pressure to catch up academically.
Pressure to “fix” what others misunderstand.
Pressure to focus on milestones, goals, and outcomes.

But here is something I want you to hear—something I wish someone had told the adults around me when I was young:

Everyone expects you to teach and change your autistic loved one’s behavior.

What matters far more is the shareable moments, because those only happen when both of you feel safe. And when we feel safe, we can learn.

When I was young, most of my energy went into regulating my body and nervous system. Learning was never simply about absorbing information—it was about working extra hard. And when I thought I did enough, the goal post moved again.

I was seven years old and struggling to read.
Changing schools didn’t help.
After school tutoring did not make a difference.
My brain simply wasn’t ready, and dyscalculia made anything involving numbers and time management feel impossible.

I don’t remember many classroom lessons from that time.

But I remember my Mom.

She worked full-time, yet she found ways to sit with me. She brought me with her to work, so she could help me with my schoolwork while doing her own work. Other times, she sat beside me at home—patient, slow, steady—until the page made sense. When I think about learning as a child, I don’t think about letters or numbers. I think about my Mom’s presence.

There’s another moment I still carry with me from preschool:

Musical Chairs. 😣

Every time the music stopped, I was the only one left standing. Everyone else had found a seat. My body filled with panic. I burst into tears and ran into my Mom’s arms. She didn’t tell me to calm down. She didn’t tell me to “try harder next time.” She didn’t shame me for reacting differently.

She held me.
She comforted me.
She waited until my body felt safe enough to try again.

My parents didn’t know anything about Autism.

They didn't have access to books, research articles, or professionals.

But they gave me something more important: a regulated, safe place to land.

That foundation—those moments of simply being present for each other—were what helped me grow.

People often asked, “Can she…?”

And my parents always responded by standing beside me, reinforcing the truth that I was never alone in my effort. They practiced with me, kept me company, and then they waited in the car while I tried to do my best. That was how I learned to walk on my own path.

Do I still get anxious today? Yes. Autistic anxiety is not something you outgrow. It’s something you learn to navigate in a world that was not designed with neurodivergent safety in mind.

But because of my parents, I learned something powerful:

• You don’t have to know everything to be a good parent.
• You don’t have to be perfect.
• You don’t have to have the right script.
• You simply have to be present, available, and willing to meet where they are.

Now, as a parent myself, I understand this more clearly.

Shareable moments aren’t created by instruction or correction.

They come from nervous-system safety.

It’s easy to lead with what you want to teach.

But it's harder and more meaningful to pause, regulate, and ask:

What do I truly have to give right now?

Presence.
Patience.
Warmth.
Curiosity.
Co-regulation.

These are the things your autistic child will remember long after every worksheet, milestone, and objective fades.

With care,
Maisie

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