This post began as a joyful moment I shared online: a video of James and I signing in Makaton at Heathrow, with a caption that read:
“The world is changing in a magnificent way. We didn’t have these self-service wheelchairs in December, and now we do! The stress relief and anxiety reduction is immense. Happiness is peace, understanding, accommodation and acceptance.”
That change—wheelchairs available to borrow like luggage trolleys—sparked another thought.
When are we enabling agency, and when are we quietly reinforcing exclusion?
We’ve seen similar setups in supermarkets lately, the choice to help yourself without a lengthy registration process. It’s a small but powerful step toward everyday inclusion.
This was our first time using this service. Although I don’t plan to do it often or take advantage of it, I was grateful it was there. I want to encourage James to adapt when he can. But sometimes, circumstances dictate. And this time, it was the safer, easier, and kinder choice for both of us.
Still, I wondered if people were confused—seeing James in a wheelchair when he’s perfectly capable of walking. To be honest, I didn’t have time to worry about what others thought. He managed to dash off anyway. Specifically, he eloped.
Elopement
Eloping is the SEND (Special Educational Needs and Disabilities) term for this sudden, fast, unplanned running off. It’s a type of fight-or-flight behaviour often seen in autistic children, especially those with intellectual or learning disabilities.
Eloping, in the context of children with special needs, evokes a deep, instinctual panic. It is the kind that freezes your heart. It turns your stomach to stone. It happens in seconds. Your child slips from your grasp and bolts.
It’s not misbehaviour. It’s communication. Or it’s overload. Or it’s fear. Or sometimes, it’s just the only response a child has. We’ve experienced elopement in shopping centres, schools, restaurants, playgrounds. It’s scary. Avoiding these places altogether isn’t sustainable—or healthy. So we build a toolkit, and we remain alert.
Parenting or supporting a non-speaking autistic child with learning disabilities requires constant micro-decisions that are both ethical and practical. Each decision sits within a continuum:
Support vs. over-support
Protecting safety vs. restricting autonomy
Reducing demands vs. reducing opportunity
Adapting the world vs. unintentionally narrowing it
In this sense, inclusion is an ongoing negotiation. Families must continually evaluate the line between enabling agency and reinforcing passive dependence — a line that is influenced by risk, resources, social expectations, and their own emotional capacity.
Our airport ‘toolkit’
We don’t usually book special assistance services at airports, but we do carry a doctor’s letter explaining James’s needs. We book night flights. We pack familiar snacks and toys, print airport pictures in advance, and bring sensory items. Sometimes, I take anti-anxiety medication, not just for myself, but to ensure my fear doesn’t amplify his. That’s the hidden layer behind invisible disabilities and “He looks fine.”
Neurodiversity: Seeing the Bigger Picture
I sometimes prefer to talk about neurodiversity through characteristics rather than diagnostic criteria. From my own experience, I’ve found that the “defining characteristics” of autism have sometimes overshadowed James’s other learning needs—especially speech and language delay, apraxia, and global developmental delay.
Invisible or unseen can mean we often don’t know the full extent or cause—and we certainly can’t measure potential based on what we know so far.
The Unseen Population
There is a whole group of children and young people who rarely make it into the centre of conversations about autism, learning disability, or inclusion — not because they are small in number, but because they are harder for the world to see.
Children who don’t speak. Children without a reliable communication system. Children whose bodies don’t move the way they want them to. In classrooms, they are sometimes placed in the corner with good intentions, but low expectations. In society, they are praised when compliant, overlooked when curious, and misunderstood when distressed. None of these are the failures of the child. They are failures of our society and system.
There is still so little research into children without speech or formal communication. This population—those with the most complex disabilities—are often overlooked, omitted, or researched upon rather than with. They become theory, not fully recognised and respected lives.
Presuming competence sounds simple on paper. But in the real world, it bends and blurs. Capacity rises and falls with noise, hunger, fear, fatigue, environment, chemistry, chance.
Some days we stretch the world to meet our children. Some days we shrink their world to keep them safe. When are we nurturing agency — and when, without meaning to, are we teaching helplessness?
When are we opening doors — and when are we simply decorating the walls of a small room?
There is no universally “correct” position because every child and context is different. However, the critical question remains:
Are we creating conditions that allow the child to be an active participant in their life, or are we — intentionally or not — positioning them as passive recipients of care?
The difference between the two is profound. One supports growth, identity, and self-determination. The other reinforces the long-standing pattern in which disabled people are managed, spoken for, and ultimately viewed as objects of intervention rather than subjects of experience.
How does migration affect mental health and motherhood? And how can we prepare and protect ourselves from the risks we don’t always see coming?
We’re living in the age of globalisation. I was young when low-cost air travel exploded in the 1990s. Suddenly, flying became accessible to many more people—sometimes cheaper than a train ticket. Before then, migration tended to follow certain patterns: highly skilled professionals, intra-regional low-wage workers, or those seeking refuge.
But companies like EasyJet and Ryanair changed the game in Europe—making travel cheap, cheerful, and frequent. Migration became more casual, and cultural diversity more widespread. I think immigration and migration are great. It is fantastic to have the opportunity to experience different people and cultures.
I write this because mental illness can have many roots—and migration is one of them. As an expat, a mother, and an advocate for autism awareness, I think it’s important to explore how migration affects mental health, especially for families and parents of neurodivergent children.
My son is autistic. My family has a long history of migration. My grandparents migrated into a war zone. My parents later migrated out of one. And I became an expatriate myself when James was two.
Migration often means losing what feels familiar and safe. You trade family, structure, language, and predictability for the unknown. That uncertainty doesn’t always feel dramatic at first, but over time, it can chip away at your sense of stability and confidence. The social systems you once relied on—healthcare, education, childcare—are suddenly different, or gone entirely. You have to rebuild your support networks from scratch.
We moved to Thailand not long after my son’s diagnosis. But even before we left the UK, I was already feeling isolated. We had moved house in search of space for our growing family—a kind of local migration, but one that meant my nearest support was over an hour away by public transport. Motherhood had already brought challenges I hadn’t anticipated—and migration only magnified them.
Later, through James’ diagnosis, I began to recognise traits of neurodiversity in myself. As I explored autism and mental health more deeply, I started writing about them too. I wish I’d known more earlier—about the systems, the symptoms, and the ways neurodivergence and mental health can quietly intertwine. That’s why I now advocate for awareness, acceptance, and above all—prevention and preparedness.
There’s space, I believe, for better parental primary care. Not just post-partum, but pre-natal too. Especially for those who may already carry hidden or unspoken risk factors.
For me, mental health is a balance between physical wellbeing and self-awareness. I’ve found support in sharing my story, in connecting with others who understand, and in allowing myself space to reflect—without shame.
What helps:
1. Planning (especially around family) Before migrating, it helps to understand the healthcare landscape—not just in theory, but in practice. What does a paediatric appointment look like? Is there insurance coverage for developmental or mental health support? What sensory experiences might come up in a hospital setting? For me, the healthcare system in Thailand was nothing like the GP-led care I was used to in the UK. Language barriers, traffic, and unfamiliar systems all added stress when I was already stretched thin.
2. Support systems Online communities were a lifeline. The Expat Mummy Club, in particular, gave me space to find information and connect. Over time, more groups emerged—some focused on parenting, others on mental health or neurodiversity. These groups remind me that help can come from unexpected places.
3. Relaxation Finding calm isn’t optional—it’s essential. I try to choose activities that give my mind rest. It’s not always easy to notice what’s stressing you out, but recognising it is the first step. Learning to stay present—without constantly anticipating disaster—has helped me cope better, both as a person and as a parent.
4. Action plans (with flexibility) Plans do help—when I can write them. But I don’t punish myself if I can’t always follow through. Self-acceptance is key. I plan when I can, and when I can’t? I try to go gently. As my mum used to sing to me when I was little: que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be.
This post is just one part of a much bigger conversation—about the mental health challenges that can arise with expatriate life, especially for families, and about the invisible layers that come with neurodiversity and motherhood.
As I prepare to join a panel to discuss neurodiversity and mental health, I hope to explore not just the difficulties—but the possibilities. How can we build systems of care that recognise complexity? How can we support parents before, during, and after migration—not just in crisis, but as part of meaningful, preventive care?
One topic close to my heart is Preparedness in Parenting. For me, it’s not about manuals or rigid frameworks. It’s about empowering parents with the awareness and tools to proactively navigate neurodiversity. How can systems become more inclusive, more compassionate, and more prepared? How can we foster stronger community connections and greater understanding for families in transition?
If any of this resonates with you, you’re not alone. Let’s keep the conversation going—across borders, across differences, and with compassion.
This post picks up from a recent Facebook post about singing, stimming, and choosing my battles (actually, not choosing to battle), touching on what it means to accept preferred behaviours—mine and my son’s—and the power of being present. A recent Uniquely Human Podcast on Neuro-affirming care and PDA brought these thoughts into sharper focus, so I wanted to reflect more here.
Looking at the title now, it could just as easily be a DIY home improvement post—and in many ways, it is. It’s about the rewiring we do as parents when we’re raising children who don’t fit into neat boxes. A personal repair.
From Pathology to Autonomy
Although I dislike the terminology of PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance), the discussion struck a chord with me, particularly in the linguistic and diagnostic origins. Dr. Taylor Day pointed out that PDA is still a theorised profile, and that it’s the idea rather than the label that often best reflects lived experience.
Reframed as a Persistent or Pervasive Drive for Autonomy, the description feels closer to the truth. It shifts the focus from disorder to understanding. From behaviour to the influencing context. It invites the question—not “what’s wrong with this behaviour?” but “what is influencing this reaction?”
It’s Not Defiance—It’s Survival
Dr. Day spoke about PDA as a nervous system response: a cascading stress that affects the entire family. Not one trigger, but many, layered, compounding causes. A build-up in a hypersensitive system that’s on alert, that is fight or flight, freeze, fawn, overwhelm, and shutdown. All combinations of which can result in a state of chronic stress, often invisible, increasing over time, for both parents and children. She proposes it stems from insecurity. From my personal point of view, it has been panicking and not knowing what to do. And when that happens, demands and triggers of any kind can feel like too much.
The idea that some of our kids are “super sensors” feels closer to the truth. These are children (and adults) who are exquisitely attuned to tone, emotion, and stress, often without the capacity to regulate or respond in ways that look typical. And when they can’t comply, they get labelled as manipulative or defiant. It’s heartbreaking. They’re not trying to control the situation. They’re trying to survive it.
Reframing, for us
Dr. Day invited us to rethink how we make demands, and why. A child’s “big reaction” might be the result of years of subtle (and not so subtle) pressures, often unknowingly passed down by us.
In the same podcast, Dr. Barry Prizant asked: Who should really be teaching us? It is so easy for professionals to assume their way is best. Their language, their diagnosis, their model. But shared human experience is essential. As human beings, we all come with our own lens. Our own wiring. Lived experience is no less valid than academia. Lived experience doesn’t need a PhD to be valid. It’s valid because it has been lived, a space and truth beyond textbooks. It was refreshing to hear that acknowledged. And that’s where conversations like this matter. It is the bridge to better understanding, improved approaches, and pivotal and pragmatic steps forward in DIY therapy and empowered parenting.
Repairing the system, too
Looking back, so much of the early support we received was compliance-focused. Sit still. Tick the boxes three times consecutively to pass for normal. But at what cost? With hindsight, my neurodivergence is something I understand better now. This isn’t about blame. It’s about a review. About asking: Why did I think that was the right path? What parts of me were just trying to survive, too? Neurodivergence, Autism, and related challenges don’t discriminate. They touch every class, background, and IQ level. It’s not about capacity. It’s about support. There is no hierarchy. And there’s no universal “right way”—only ways that work (or don’t) for each individual. It is a phenomenon that we continue to learn how to approach, theorise, and try out.
Letting Go of “Normal”
The repair work I’m doing now is more about shifting the focus away from neurotypical benchmarks—function, assessment, normalcy—and asking: What actually helps him?
So many therapeutic models still frame success as compliance. We need to ask—what’s actually serving our child? Not what makes others comfortable. Not what ticks boxes or looks good on paper.
As my son enters the next phase of his life—physically the size of a man, on the edge of his teenage years—I think constantly about how the world can include him. He may need substantial support in daily life, but does that mean that life skills should be his priority? I’m more interested in developing his expression, communication, and preserving his youth. In nurturing self-advocacy. Of course, when safety isn’t the immediate concern.
He is where he is, in part, because of a larger inclusion problem. That’s why I keep doing this work: to keep changing how I see, how I respond, and how I show up for him.
Presence, Not Panic
One of the most powerful grounding tools Dr. Day shared was beautifully simple:
“Ask yourself, where are my feet right now?”
It’s so easy to live in the future as a parent, especially when your child’s future feels uncertain. What will happen when I’m gone? How will they cope? But anxiety steals the moment. And in the moment is where our children need us.
Instead of spiralling into all the unknowns, I try to focus on now. Enjoying our time together, and this sometimes means doing our own thing, but still checking in. Finding calm. This isn’t avoidance—it’s presence. And it’s powerful. It helps rewire my panic (neurological) pathways that have existed for a long time. It isn’t easy and it takes time, but the good news is that neuroplasticity can continue throughout our lives. Another leap of understanding in the field of neuroscience and neurobiology.
What really matters?
So instead of thinking in goals, guilt, outcomes, and “what should be,” I now try to think in contentment and connection. What helps my son feel safe? How can I support his autonomy? I turn to blogs, textbooks, and good news stories. And ultimately his behaviour tells me we are on the right track, for now.
Neurodivergent-affirming care starts with this:
Seeing the person in front of you as whole and worthy.
Understanding strengths and support needs, not just deficits.
Prioritising quality of life over performance.
Asking: Do they want to work on this? Not just: Do they need to?
This is respect and repair.
Not choosing battles—choosing peace
We hear a lot about “choosing our battles” in parenting. But maybe it’s time to step out of the battle altogether. If we see the stage our children are at, not as something to manage, but to meet with curiosity, then everything softens.
And it’s not just the child who needs care—we do too. Especially when neurodivergence runs in the family. Support needs to start with us, not end with us.
Uniquely Human Podcast
This podcast is full of insights—too many for me to cover here. I highly recommend listening to it. It’s one of those conversations that leaves you not with a checklist, but a shift in how you see things. And sometimes, that’s exactly what we need.
Adding “in-” in front of a word often seems to mean not. This is evident in examples like invisible (not visible) or incomplete (not complete). But language, like life, is full of exceptions and rule-breakers. Take different and indifferent: they don’t just mean “different” and “not different.” Indifferent actually means not caring or showing no interest, which isn’t the same as being the same. It’s about emotional disconnection or detachment.
Back to information. Information is not the negation of formation—it’s a formed piece of meaning. A fact or idea that’s taken shape, ready to be shared, understood, and used. And with that in mind, let’s use information to reframe how we think about neurodiversity.
Indifferent—or Just Different?
People with autism are often mislabelled as indifferent. Even worse, the once-popular puzzle piece symbol for autism suggests there is something missing—an incomplete puzzle. Sadly, this symbol is still in use.
But what if what looks like indifference is actually a difference in processing? What if it’s not a lack of interest, but a different way of showing it?
Can we truly remain indifferent—disconnected or detached—from that truth once we’re armed with better information?
What if we replaced that narrative with positive symbolism—symbols that advocate, assist, accommodate, and amplify acceptance of neurodiversity?
Introducing Interoception
The piece of information I want to share today is about interoception. It’s not a common word—appearing in only 0.2 occurrences per million words in modern written English—but it’s a vital concept, especially when parenting a neurodivergent child.
Interoception is your internal body awareness. It’s part of the somatic sensory system—the senses that relate to what’s going on inside your body, rather than outside. Interoception tells you:
When you’re hungry or thirsty
If you’re too hot or too cold
If you’re in pain or need the toilet
How tired, nauseous, or tense you feel
It’s the quiet feedback loop that connects your brain to your body, helping you regulate, respond, and self-care.
Why Interoception Matters
When interoception is underdeveloped or processed differently—as is often the case for many neurodivergent individuals—it can create very real challenges:
Emotional regulation
Managing discomfort or pain
Feeling safe and settled in your own body
Reaching learning potential
Understanding James’s interoception helps me understand his behaviour. It also allows me to reflect on my own interoceptive awareness. To support him, I need to tune into myself, too. This week I forgot to eat, didn’t sleep well, became overwhelmed and this fatigue followed me into the following days. I had less energy for him. So today I chose to stay at home, rest, recuperate and write. We’re learning together—co-regulating in tandem, decoding the signals our bodies send us in different ways.
Everything Is Information
Let’s return to the word everything. Everything = every thing. Each sound, sight, feeling, action—every sensory input is a piece of information.
So:
Every thing in the world is information.
If behaviour is a response to that information, then we must begin with understanding. Our behaviour is shaped by how we sense, interpret, and process the world. When we recognise that some behaviours stem from interoceptive or sensory differences, we can begin to rewrite the way we respond.
These behaviours may not signal defiance. They may not signal disinterest. They may simply be different responses to different internal information.
That understanding can change the way we teach, parent, and include.
When the Rules Don’t Fit
Learning is hard. And sometimes, the rules we rely on—social, educational, inherited, parenting, medical, textbook rules—don’t fit every child.
This is where we need a shift in thinking. Especially around our expectations of behaviour, communication, and connection. If we can look at autism and neurodivergence through a new lens—one shaped by compassionate information, not outdated assumptions—we may finally begin to:
Learn
Include
Accept
Instead of:
Diagnose
Pathologise
Exclude
Invisible Differences
Autism can sometimes be an invisible disability. Not because it’s not real, but because it doesn’t always show in the ways people expect. It can be invisible in the classroom, in the workplace, or even at home. Often, stigma, misunderstanding, or the quiet pressure to “mask” what’s not considered “typical” means autism stays hidden and repressed. And this invisibility is made worse by a lack of information or negative attitudes. When we don’t understand something, we often overlook it—or worse, judge it. But language and knowledge can change that.
From Information to Transformation
This post is an example of how language, meaning, and understanding evolve over time. Some ideas are inherited and taken for granted. That’s how many of us learned. But that’s not how everyone can—or should—be expected to learn. We can use better information to build greater understanding.
Because “in-” isn’t always a negation. And neither is autism. And information, like inclusion, is a celebration of something shaped, meaningful, and ready both to inform and to form.
While “invisible” or “incomplete” are negations, words like inspire, inform, inclusion, or incarnate don’t negate. Instead, they add depth, presence, or action. Both “inform” and “include” are generative acts. They don’t take away—they build, connect, shape. To inform is to give form. Autism isn’t a negation or absence—it’s not the lack of something but a different presence. This post suggests a new perspective. It aims to create a different approach. The shift is from deficit-based thinking to give form to value, diversity, and identity.
My hope is that by better understanding interoception, I can continue reshaping my own behaviour. I want to meet my son where he is. I aim to break down barriers, both personal and societal. To help James not just survive, but thrive, as we navigate this journey—together.
The evolution of child development theories is deeply connected to broader historical, biological, and technological changes that have shaped human societies.
The growing recognition of neurodiversity necessitates an ongoing reimagining of how we parent, teach, and learn. These changes highlight the importance of tools for connection, such as AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication), that facilitate and support children’s unique needs, helping them navigate and find meaning in a world that often requires adaptation.
From the early philosophical insights into childhood, through the scientific revolutions in biology and psychology, to the rise of inclusive educational practices and digital learning tools, our understanding of how children grow and develop has become more nuanced and interconnected. AAC, along with the many other frameworks that exist today, will continue to play a critical role in shaping a future where every child’s voice is heard, valued, and respected.
In a society that constantly evolves and challenges traditional norms, it’s critical to appreciate that each child’s developmental journey is unique—with tools like AAC, emotional intelligence, and inclusive education as vital support systems.
The Four-Pronged Approach to Human Development
A great way to deepen our understanding of these interconnected factors is by exploring Urie Bronfenbrenner’s ecological systems theory, which outlines how children’s development is shaped by their interactions with different layers of their environment, from immediate family settings (the microsystem) to broader societal and cultural factors (the macrosystem).
A Bio-Psycho-Social-Societal Lens: Understanding the Whole Child
Biological: This focuses on physical growth, brain development, and genetics—basically, the body’s role in development.
Psychological: This covers emotional and cognitive development, how children form identities, and their inner world.
Social: This looks at the immediate environment—family, peers, and community—and how these relationships shape children’s behaviour and skills.
Societal: This examines the broader societal forces—like government policies, education systems, media, and cultural expectations—that influence a child’s opportunities and sense of self.
Stages, Conflicts, and Virtues
Erikson’s theory revolves around stages, conflicts, and virtues. The resolution of these conflicts leads to the development of virtues that serve as strengths throughout life. Below is a table of Erikson’s stages, the conflicts, and the resulting virtues:
Infancy (0-1)
Conflict: Trust vs Mistrust
Virtue: Hope
Early Childhood (1-3)
Conflict: Autonomy vs Shame/Doubt
Virtue: Will
Play Age (3-6)
Conflict: Initiative vs Guilt
Virtue: Purpose
School Age (7-11)
Conflict: Industry vs Inferiority
Virtue: Competence
Adolescence (12-18)
Conflict: Identity vs Confusion
Virtue: Fidelity
Early Adulthood (19-29)
Conflict: Intimacy vs Isolation
Virtue: Love
Middle Adulthood (30-64)
Conflict: Generativity vs Stagnation
Virtue: Care
Old Age (65+)
Conflict: Integrity vs Despair
Virtue: Wisdom
Erik Erikson’s psychosocial development theory is an essential framework for understanding how children navigate stages of growth. For neurodiverse children. Milestones such as trust, competence, or autonomy don’t always follow a neat, linear path for every child. For instance, children with autism may develop autonomy and competence in different ways, but they can still achieve these milestones. This is where AAC tools become invaluable. They provide alternative communication methods that allow children to express themselves in ways that are meaningful to them, ensuring that their developmental journey is accessible and inclusive.
Rather than seeing child development as a series of isolated stages or conflicts to be resolved, I believe it’s more helpful to acknowledge, identify, and address them as part of who we are at any given point in time. The goal is not to reach the highest stage of development for all. Personally, I value moments of isolation, as they provide space for reflection and self-awareness. Recognition of our capacity for conflict, resolution, and virtue is circular or even spiky, is my personal key to self-acceptance and self-actualisation.
Child Development Evolution timeline
Era: Pre-Industrial Era (Before 1700s)
Biological: Children were viewed as miniature adults, with no clear distinction for childhood.
Psychological: Emotional and cognitive development were overlooked; children worked from an early age.
Social/Societal: Family was central, education was minimal, mostly religious.
Key Philosophers & Thinkers: John Locke: “Blank Slate” theory (Tabula Rasa); Jean-Jacques Rousseau: Advocated for natural development, childhood as a time of freedom.
Era: Industrial Revolution (Late 1700s – 1800s)
Biological: Urbanisation led to public health advancements but increased exposure to illness.
Psychological: Darwin’s evolutionary theory reshaped understanding of human development.
Social/Societal: Progressive education emerged, with Dewey promoting experiential learning. Froebel introduced kindergarten. Child labour laws emerged; schooling systems expanded beyond religious institutions.
Key Philosophers & Thinkers: Charles Darwin: Theory of Evolution and Natural Selection; John Dewey: Progressive education and experiential learning; Friedrich Froebel: Founder of kindergarten, play as essential to development.
Era: Early 20th Century (1900s – 1950s)
Biological: Medical advances improved child health.
Psychological: Freud and Piaget revolutionised early childhood understanding. Freud’s psychoanalysis and Piaget’s cognitive stages shaped modern developmental psychology.
Social/Societal: Increased focus on early childhood education, with psychological theories influencing schooling.
Key Philosophers & Thinkers: Jean Piaget: Stages of cognitive development; Lev Vygotsky: Social-cultural theory, Zone of Proximal Development (ZPD).
Era: Late 20th Century (1960s – 1990s)
Biological: Advances in neuroscience and genetics led to recognition of developmental disorders.
Psychological: Erikson’s psychosocial stages highlighted identity and emotional growth.
Social/Societal: Focus on mental health, identity, and inclusion in educational settings.
Key Philosophers & Thinkers: Erik Erikson: Psychosocial stages of development; Jerome Bruner: Scaffolding, the role of social context in learning.
Era: 21st Century (2000s – Present)
Biological: Neuroplasticity and neurodiversity shape modern approaches to child development. Advances in medicine means those with Profound, Multiple and/or Complex Learning Disabilities are thriving beyond previous expectations.
Psychological: Emotional intelligence, as defined by Goleman, becomes a key developmental focus.
Social/Societal: AAC tools and inclusive education policies ensure developmental equity for all children.
Key Philosophers & Thinkers: Daniel Goleman: Emotional intelligence; Norman Doidge: Neuroplasticity, the brain’s ability to adapt; Stephen Hawking: Advocate for neurodiversity and inclusion.
Generation Overview, Impact and Mental Health
The generational shifts highlighted illustrate how the understanding of mental health, diagnoses, and special educational needs has transformed over the past century. This progression demonstrates how societal forces like economic conditions, media exposure, and technological advancements intersect to shape how we view children’s growth, behaviour, and emotional well-being.
The Role of AAC in Supporting Child Development
AAC tools as a tool for connection and inclusion enable us to go beyond teaching children to communicate more effectively. We are empowering them to navigate the world with empathy, understanding, and a deep sense of their own value. This aligns perfectly with Maslow’s view that self-actualisation comes not from achieving a singular, predefined goal, but from the freedom to express who we are and connect meaningfully with others.
AAC tools, whether they are high tech, low tech or no tech, are not just about learning or meeting educational requirements; they are tools for connection, transcending the national curriculum to create more meaningful relationships.
Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs: Facilitating Self-Actualisation
Maslow believed that once our basic physiological and psychological needs—such as food, safety, belonging, and esteem—are met, we can then move toward fulfilling our fullest potential, which is self-actualisation.
For children with communication challenges, AAC tools serve as a bridge between meeting these foundational needs and realising their fullest potential. The ability to communicate freely and connect with others is crucial to fulfilling the need for belonging, which is the foundation of Maslow’s theory.
AAC doesn’t just facilitate communication; it promotes a different style of learning—one that places empathy at the forefront.
Chemical Exposure and Sustainability
In parallel with the rise of diagnoses and special educational needs, there has been growing concern about the impact of modern diets and chemical processes on mental health. The mass production of food, with an emphasis on processed ingredients, artificial additives, and high levels of sugar, has been linked to various developmental and mental health issues in children.
Increased exposure to chemicals such as plastics, pesticides, and artificial additives in food production has raised concerns about their effects on children’s neurological and cognitive development. Some studies suggest that exposure to these chemicals can lead to developmental delays, attention issues, and increased vulnerability to mental health conditions like anxiety and depression.
The increasing focus on mental health and special educational needs has led to significant changes in how children are supported in educational systems. Special education provisions have expanded greatly, with a growing understanding that children with neurodiverse conditions such as autism, ADHD, and dyslexia are not “broken,” but rather have different ways of experiencing and interacting with the world.
As we shift towards a more eco-conscious and sustainable future, the question becomes: how do we foster a world that nurtures children’s development in all aspects—biologically, emotionally, socially, and environmentally? As we address sustainability, it’s not just about saving resources or reducing waste—it’s about creating a world where children’s neurodiverse needs are understood, supported, and respected.
Call to Action
I’d love to hear your thoughts! Please share your experiences or reflections on how child development has changed across generations. How do you think these shifts will impact the next generation?
Reflecting on my own parenting journey and considering the influence of mass media and societal tools like parenting guides and Augmentative and Alternative Communication (AAC), it is clear how these tools and philosophies shape not only how we guide children but also how we understand their uniqueness in relation to their environment.
I think key to it all is the realisation that we all experience these virtues differently, depending on our position, stance, and outlook. This has a profound impact on how we understand neurodiversity and teach children. We are a product of a society that has imposed specific ideas, but we are also part of a society that challenges them.
Advocates Apparel is joining the Women Change Makers Fair. We aim to celebrate neurodiversity and its crucial role in shaping a more inclusive, sustainable future. Our focus is on raising awareness of the strengths and unique perspectives of neurodivergent individuals. Embracing neurodiversity, our goal is to drive innovative thinking, creativity and increase well-being. We strive to create lasting change for everyone.
What Does a Sustainable Future Mean to You?
For me, a sustainable future is about safeguarding human well-being alongside protecting the physical environment we live in. It means prioritising mental health—especially for children and individuals at risk of suicide, trauma, and isolation. A sustainable future for me involves empowering people with the tools to understand themselves. This creates self-sustaining ways to regulate and educate. It’s also about supporting people and organisations dedicated to providing these resources and creating supportive communities.
Avoiding a Growing Health Emergency with Awareness, Advocacy, and Affirmation
Suicide rates are a growing global concern, especially among young people. This growing population of individuals feeling disillusioned or in a state of malaise points to the need for urgent action. One major cause for this sense of disconnection might stem from unrealised expectations. The rise in deficit labelling and diagnoses may be compounding this issue. Many children, young people, and adults may feel they have failed to meet societal ideals. These ideals are either their own or those imposed by parents or society. Ironically, even those who achieve their goals also report feelings of emptiness. Ultimately, the rising sense of dissatisfaction stems from a loss of positive identity.
A Social Shift in Mindset
At Advocates Apparel, our products are designed to promote solidarity in understanding and the need for change. The logo is the message we share the same values and passions.
The neurodiversity movement calls for people to aggregate, understand, and affirm human variation and differences in different areas of ability. With this collective understanding and agreement, we can shape and influence access to appropriate resources. We can provide teaching materials. We can advocate for better social systems. We aim to create communities where people feel accepted for who they are. We have made great strides throughout history in achieving historic shifts in gender equality. Now is the moment to stand up for neurodivergent individuals. They are the largest, most underrepresented, and diverse group in our society.
Ultimately, understanding neurodiversity parallels understanding the things in life we can change, can’t change, and aspire to change. The neurodiversity mindset is a huge shift in thinking. It needs mass agreement to make this change. This change is like the issues of sustainability and gender equality shifts we have seen. It takes an enormous effort. If enough people believe it’s possible, we can create a brighter, more empathetic understanding of neurodiversity. This understanding encompasses all its forms and variations. By changing how we understand and support it, we can make a significant impact.
Our Products: Advocacy-Inspired Products for a Sustainable Future
Our products are designed to celebrate neurodiversity while promoting sustainability. Each item is crafted with advocacy in mind, blending creativity, functionality, and eco-conscious materials. By supporting these products, you’re not only embracing diversity but also contributing to a more inclusive, sustainable future. Whether it’s art, accessories, or tools, every piece reflects the power of individuality and environmental responsibility.
Together, we can build a world where every mind is valued and empowered to contribute to a more sustainable tomorrow. Let’s affirm the power of diversity, inclusion, and equality for all people.
Lately, I’ve noticed that my mind is tired. I’ve been sleeping either too little or too much. I feel happy one moment and easily agitated the next. I overthink, then become saddened and overwhelmed —all in quick succession. My energy, resilience, and motivation are low, and my perspective is clouded. I tend to underestimate my energy levels. I also overlook my ambitions. I forget that change rarely happens quickly or in a straight line. These feelings are clear signals of burnout, and as a result, I metaphorically fell over.
Burnout can affect neurodivergent individuals, neurotypical people, and those on the spectrum. It’s something caregivers and teachers experience as well. I’m grateful I was able to retreat and recover, taking a full day off duty. It was a much-needed day of respite, allowing me to reset. Now, I find myself writing again about agency and my special interests… as a reminder for the next time this happens.
The Sense of Agency
To recover it was important for me to reclaim my sense of agency. The concept of sense of agency is powerful for me. It’s something inherent to us as humans, much like our sense of sight, hearing, or touch. But when we’re in a state of burnout, our sense of agency can feel impaired. It is similar to how someone might feel helpless if they lost their sight or hearing.
Our sense of agency is shaped by many things: our personal narrative, environment, the people around us, and societal structures. It’s not fixed. It’s a dynamic force that can be reactivated. It is like a muscle that needs rest and care to function at its best. People on the neurodivergent spectrum and caregivers often face systemic challenges. These challenges can strip away their agency. This is especially true when mental health or burnout is involved. These individuals are navigating a world that doesn’t always support or understand their needs.
Resting and redirecting my mind helps, click here to read my blog post ‘Agency and Anxiety’.
Shifting the Narrative and Collective Agency
When we acknowledge the commonalities faced by those dealing with neurodiversity, caregiving, and mental health challenges, we open our minds. This understanding creates space for empathy. We also foster collaboration and action.
The history of social movements shows us how powerful collective agency can be. We are working to tackle global challenges like climate change. We also face mental health crises and systemic inequalities. We must recognise that these issues are interconnected. Our personal struggles—whether related to neurodiversity, caregiving, or burnout—reflect broader societal issues. By recognising this, we can change the narrative towards a more positive, neuroaffirming perspective.
We are all part of a larger agency—society. Our individual actions, when combined, can have a profound effect on the world around us. This understanding supports the neurodiversity movement. It empowers individuals to recognise their value and demand inclusion. This shift can create spaces for neurodivergent individuals to find their rightful place in society.
Click here to read more about Neurodiversity affirming messages and practices.
Commonalities in Dyslexia, Language Processing, Developmental Delays: Building Self-Esteem
As a parent and advocate, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on how we can better support neurodiverse learners—children who face challenges with language processing, reading, comprehension, and communication. Through my journey with James, combined with the expert insights I’ve encountered, I’ve realised that many learning differences, such as dyslexia, developmental language disorder (DLD), ADHD, and autism spectrum disorder (ASD), have more in common than we might think. Instead of focusing on their differences, I believe we should bridge the gaps in understanding these conditions and take a more inclusive approach to learning, one that helps improve self-esteem and empowers neurodiverse learners.
Common Threads in Learning Differences
Reflecting on SENDCAST episodes featuring Louise Selby and Dr. Helen Ross, alongside research from Jill Boucher and Maggie Snowling, I’ve noticed a common thread in how learning, communication, and attention difficulties manifest in children with different diagnoses. A helpful approach is to understand that many of these conditions stem from shared challenges in processing language, not deficits in intelligence.
For example, dyslexia is often misunderstood as simply a reading disorder, but it’s more about how a person processes and decodes language. Dyslexic learners often struggle with phonics and word recognition, but this difficulty is not a reflection of intelligence. Likewise, developmental language disorder (DLD) isn’t a cognitive issue but involves challenges with syntax, semantics, word retrieval, and pragmatics (as highlighted in Maggie Snowling’s paper on Developmental Dyslexia and Specific Language Impairment: Same or Different?).
Interestingly, ASD is often treated as separate from language disorders, but Jill Boucher points out that this division can blur the lines between appropriate interventions. For example, in my studies of Intensive Interaction, I’ve observed that teaching non-verbal or minimally verbal children with autism using rigid, speech-focused methods can suppress their communicative intent. Nurturing their communication and language skills in a more holistic way—such as using Intensive Interaction techniques—could yield better results.
Additionally, Rita Jordan, in her work on autism with severe learning disabilities, highlights how children with autism may have fewer opportunities for language exposure and interaction, especially when learning disabilities are misunderstood or not specifically addressed. She suggests these children may experience limited exposure to natural language and meaningful communication, often due to inappropriate interventions. As a result, these children miss crucial opportunities for language development. Without this foundation, they may fall further behind their peers, even in basic social communication skills. This underscores the importance of creating learning environments that promote language development through natural interactions and respectful communication.
It’s essential to recognise that ADHD, ASD, and DLD share overlapping challenges in language comprehension, working memory, and social communication. Professor David Daley reminds us that children with ADHD or ASD may exhibit developmental delays, meaning their brain maturity often lags behind their chronological age. Their defiance, indifference, or struggles to learn are not personal choices but responses to cognitive and language processing differences.
The Power of Morphology in Supporting Learners
As Louise Selby explains in her discussions about dyslexia, traditional phonics approaches don’t always work for all learners, especially those with DLD, ADHD, and ASD, who may struggle with phonemic decoding. Morphological instruction, on the other hand, provides children with a meaning-based strategy for word comprehension. This approach is effective for all learners, not just those with language difficulties, as it helps children build a deeper understanding of language and the structure behind it.
Moreover, morphology can be particularly useful for learners who struggle with reading comprehension. For instance, a child who understands that “un-“ means “not” or “happy” means a positive emotional state can more easily figure out the meaning of unfamiliar words. Given that around 80% of English words are made up of morphemes, this strategy works for a wide range of learners, including those who may not typically be diagnosed with learning disabilities but still struggle with word meaning.
Bridging the Gaps and Improving Self-Esteem
One of the most concerning issues for children with learning differences is the impact on their self-esteem. Labels like dyslexia, ADHD, and autism can make children feel “less than” their peers, and over time, they may internalise these negative labels. In her SENDCAST talk, Dr. Helen Ross discusses the profound mental health effects of a dyslexia diagnosis, where children may begin to see themselves as “lazy” or “dumb” simply because they process language differently.
As a parent, it is heartbreaking to see any child begin to doubt their worth. Understanding the brain’s differences in processing language is key. We need to shift the conversation away from deficits and focus on a child’s unique strengths.
That’s why I created IAMJamesMum.org—to share our story and advocate for neurodiversity. By celebrating the idea that being different is not a deficit, we can help children build their self-worth and embrace their strengths, not just in language, but in all areas of life.
A Holistic Approach: Inclusive Practices that Celebrate Neurodiversity
In my view, the best way to support neurodiverse learners is through a holistic, inclusive approach that recognises the shared experiences of children with different neurological profiles. Instead of treating each condition in isolation, we need to adopt universal strategies that support all learners. This might include explicit teaching methods, a focus on morphology for language learning, and meaningful, context-rich environments where all learners can thrive.
I’m also passionate about the work of Hope Haven, which is working to build a model for welcoming and inclusive spaces for the SEND community. By creating environments where neurodiverse children feel valued and accepted, we help them not only build academic skills but also foster emotional resilience and improve self-esteem.
Moving Forward Together
The neurodiversity movement, championed by Advocates Apparel, Hope Haven, and this blog, is about creating a world where differences are celebrated and neurodiversity is recognised as a strength. Let’s continue to work together to bridge the gaps in understanding and build a more inclusive and supportive world for all neurodiverse learners.
Resources to Explore:
Advocates Apparel: Supporting the neurodiversity movement with pride.
Hope Haven: Celebrating neurodiversity through inclusive environments.
SENDCAST Podcast: Insightful discussions on SEND, dyslexia, ADHD, and inclusion with experts like Louise Selby and Dr. Helen Ross.
ACAMHS Learn: Free CPD sessions on ADHD, autism, and more, providing professional development in neurodiversity.
Through my disability inclusion studies, I learn more about people like us in the world around us. I find that a new approach to longstanding beliefs is necessary. As such, I advocate for celebrating neurodiversity and exploring fresh ideas to share experiences and find support.
Our identity is shaped by our thoughts and how we experience the world through our senses. Sensory substitution explains James’s heightened senses. His reactions—whether calming or overwhelming—are his way of communicating. Sensory substitution occurs when one sense compensates for another when overloaded, allowing information to be processed differently. Co-regulation is another key concept, where we support each other in managing emotions. Understanding and responding to James’s cues, I can help him feel more settled. I’ve noticed how my responses can help us stay calm and connected.
The Neurodiversity Movement
The neurodiversity movement is a paradigm shift and an essential movement happening now. It’s a global movement to reduce the stigma around neurodivergent brains.
Neurodiversity embraces the idea that neurological differences are simply variations of the human brain. This shift is crucial for people to be valued for their unique ways of thinking and being.
Structured Identity: How our environment shapes us.
Performative Identity: Adapting to social expectations.
Discursive Identity: The power of language.
Beyond Identity: The evolving nature of self.
Joanna’s work has deepened my understanding of the identity that James and I embody as mother and son. Her frameworks show that the idea of identity is multi-faceted. Understanding of disability and neurodiversity is evolving. It is shaped by new knowledge and perspectives.
Embodied Identity: Recognising True Value
Joanna’s concept of embodied identity encourages us to look beyond physical limitations and recognise the true essence of each individual. This is especially important for those with profound and multiple learning disabilities (PMLD) and individuals with complex learning and developmental needs (CLDD), like James. In essence, I am James’s voice to the world, and our identities are intertwined—we cannot exist without each other. To help us better understand this, Joanna introduces two contrasting philosophical lenses: phenomenalism and Cartesian dualism.
We must look beyond surface assumptions. Just because a body behaves differently, we cannot assume that the mind within is absent or lacking. Each person has an inner life, a sense of being, a light that deserves to be seen.
Phenomenalism: The Embodied Self
Phenomenalism proposes that mind and body are not separate but deeply interconnected. It is rooted in phenomenology, a philosophy that centres on lived experience. In this view, consciousness is always embodied—we experience the world through our bodies.
For individuals who are non-verbal or express themselves differently, this view affirms that their inner world is real and present. Their movements, expressions, rhythms, and reactions are meaningful. These should not be dismissed as mere behaviour, but recognised as communication.
Joanna encourages us to engage with others in ways by learning to listen more deeply to alternative ways of being.
Cartesian Dualism: Mind and Body as Separate
In contrast, Cartesian dualism, developed by René Descartes, separates mind and body into distinct parts. Descartes famously wrote, “I think, therefore I am”, suggesting that thinking and reason are the core of identity.
This idea has had a lasting influence. It has often led society to value people based on their ability to think and communicate in conventional ways. For someone like James, this can be limiting.
Joanna’s work helps us go further. She teaches us not to judge a person’s worth by their physical or verbal capabilities alone. She urges us to understand that identity is a synergy of mind and body.
Moving Toward a More Inclusive Future
Our responsibility is to create environments where everyone’s light can shine. Identity is shaped by experience, environment, language, and interpretation.
All individuals deserve the same rights to love, care, and fulfillment. Disability should never diminish their humanity. Ultimately, it’s about observing and understanding who we are and how we behave—creating a space where we feel understood and connected. In an inclusive future, every person is recognised, understood, and supported for who they are.
I am James' mum 