True ableism isn’t in sharing the struggles tied to autism; it’s in pretending those struggles don’t exist.

True ableism isn’t in sharing the struggles tied to autism; it’s in pretending those struggles don’t exist.

Why the need to argue that a disabled person is only disabled because of society?

Even in the most perfect world, Charlie would still swallow screws, still be unable to communicate pain, still run into danger, still not know how to hold a pencil or spell his name.

Why insist that a child with an intellectual disability and Level 3 autism, who is cognitively at a pre-K level, being in a mixed-age classroom is the same as being in 6th grade?

Ask yourself: does the reality of disability make you uncomfortable?

Being intellectually disabled doesn’t make a person less. Having Level 3 autism doesn’t make a person less.

You don’t get to judge other autism parents

Unless you’re raising a middle schooler with the cognitive skills of a toddler, no sense of danger, and who requires 24/7 support just to stay safe, you have no right to shame other parents for their feelings.

Actually, even if you are, you still have no right to shame other parents because their reality and their feelings are different from yours.

Feeling the full spectrum of emotions that come with raising a child with profound autism and other comorbid conditions is not just okay; it’s necessary.

Love and pain coexist, and so can sadness and happiness. Ironically, autism has taught me that emotions are messy, complex, and not easily defined. It’s not all black and white.

Feeling sad about your child’s struggles isn’t incompatible with loving them with every fiber of your being.

What truly matters is loving your children unconditionally through every win and struggle.

And that, I can do.