Unseen…

“Mommy, people don’t get me. People don’t get that I’m creative and kind. They don’t get that I have autism and ADHD.”

I asked him, “Does it matter to you that people know you have autism and ADHD?”

He looked right at me and said, “Yes. It’s a part of who I am.”

In that moment, I felt two things: pride in how clearly he could name himself, and an ache—because moving through a world that doesn’t meet you hurts.

None of us want to be explained away or hidden.
We want to be understood.  Seen.  Honoured.

That’s really why I parent the way I do.
That’s why I advocate.
It’s why I talk about building with our neurodivergent kids, listening, partnering, shaping environments with them, instead of trying to “fix” them.

When my son was diagnosed autistic at 4½, and later ADHD, life was already messy: divorce, family rupture, all of it. His dad and I made a decision: we will build together for him, even in separation. Kids need to feel loved and supported, especially when their world is transforming.

So I asked questions. I pushed through red tape, met with the school, looped in providers, learned the language, advocated when I was exhausted. I was navigating my own grief and healing, but I kept returning to this truth:

The world doesn’t need us to “manage” neurodivergent kids. It needs us to meet them, build with them, and honour their uniqueness.

When we stop forcing children into a mold and instead create spaces where they are celebrated, supported, and free to be who they are, everything shifts.

That’s the invitation.

We don’t need more tolerance. We need change.
We don’t need sympathy. We need solidarity.
We don’t need to manage difference. We need to make room.

Inclusion isn’t just kindness.
It’s transformative.

This is the gift of building with our children: when they are seen and supported, their souls expand, and when their souls expand, ours do too.

So if you meet a child who says, “People don’t get me,”
believe them.
Mirror back their brilliance.
Honour them.

And if you’re a parent—advocate like their soul depends on it, because sometimes it does.