Open Your Eyes To See Me: I AM YOUR CHILD

Screen Shot 2017-06-13 at 3.27.07 pmIf he could write to me, this is what I think he would of said.

The First letter in a series letters from my 3 year old child to me, his Mother.  Bless his cotton socks.  My reply of love follows.


Dearest Mummy,

Please open your eyes.

Here I am. Raw. Innocent. Pure.

Look and see me. The real me.

I am your child. Your love.

I share your biology. Your DNA.

I am dependent, fragile and new.

I am Me.


I am whole and complete and desperate for your love because I am your child and you are my mother. It is the natural order of things.

What is this Autistic I hear you talking about? What does this mean? Am I Austism?

Why are you anxious? Being so connected to you, I feel it. I feel everything you feel. It scares me. It makes me worried. You are my security, my everything. Are you going somewhere? Are you leaving me?

Why do you look at me with such concern? Am I sick? Am I wrong? Do you not love me? No, ……..You love me. But do you really love me? I ask because I’m not sure you see me. The real me.

How come we go and see different people, therapists I think you call them? They are nice but I don’t like going. Can you not see I am happiest in my home where everything is familiar and predictable?

That is where you are.

In between your eyebrows, there are frown lines, like train tracks on your forehead. I don’t know what is means when your forehead crinkles like this. Am I not answering you right? Doing something right? The furrows; they are there often.

Mummy, please see me.

Know me. Understand me.

Try hard Mummy because I am your child and I need you. I need you to help me, to decipher this world and mostly, to love me. Always.

Your child,

MG xx


My Letter of Love to Him

My Dearest Child, My Mini Giant, My MG,

Forgive me.

It has taken a little while, but I see you clearly now.

I see the real you. Your core, your soul, your purity, your spirit, your love. You.


You are beautiful, unique, sparkling and rare. An individual and my special child.

I treasure your every breath.

And to answer your question:

No my darling. You are not “Autistic.”

You are my child who has Austism.

PDD-NOS to be precise. It means you can struggle with things like social interactions, self regulation, understanding non-verbal behaviour, and sensory hypersensitivity but your challenges are not so severe or some even present, to be classified as having “Classic Autism.”

These words are medical labels my love. The Doctors also refer to Autism as ASD. (Autism Spectrum Disorder). The titles help health professionals identify areas of disability. Your obstacles are serious, real and when know about them, we can work with you to overcome them, to help you function more easily. Together we will quieten the noise of your world to make it a little less scary and overwhelming.

I will write about what this means and how we can implement strategies to help in my next letter.

At the moment, I want to keep talking about how I do now see the real you and what you mean to me. Most of all, I want you to know that I love you with every atom in my body.

You are and will always be, firstly my beautiful child.


This ASD journey has been unlike anything I have ever experienced before. As your mother, I am not sure I have ever been prepared for this. A mad whirlpool of emotions has spun my thoughts into a frenzy each day as I have tried to madly get up to speed in order to best understand you and how you view life.

Because what you see, think and feel is very different to how I process our world.

I have panicked and cried and fretted and mourned for you. Unsure of what I am doing or if indeed, I am the best person to be your guide.

As your mother, I have lost my way in your diagnosis. Trying to learn everything yesterday.

Focused solely on the label, I forgot that you were my little Angel. My child. I saw you equally as my son and as a patient to treat; Autism to battle.

Trying to fix you, yet you were never broken. I was looking for anything that would plaster over the challenges you faced.

I did this with love in my heart but concerned panic in my brain. I was very conflicted, confused and close-minded.

I am sorry.

I’m sorry that I was blind to the real you then. That my emotions and frenetic thinking pulled a thick, heavy curtain between us. Perhaps, shielding you from me for a time. Unintentionally, making me less emotionally accessible. Not fulfilling my role as a mother in the way you needed.

I have cared for you, played with you and tried to be present. I have fed, clothed and bathed you. I have rocked you to sleep, sung songs and danced with you. I have calmed your body and soothed you. I have nurtured you to the best of my ability but always in my head was the PDD-NOS. Like a coal miners head torch shining constantly from my forehead, a spot light putting the Autistic label in the lead role and centre stage.

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Activities I planned were always around therapy outcomes and skill acquisition. Educational, social, behavioural. “Lets draw a smile. It means you are happy. Like a sideways banana, yes that is a smile. Happy feels like warmth in your tummy. Your heart might beat a little faster. Your body can be tingly. You may want to run around. Happy is a yellow colour….”

Nights spent researching, learning, questioning. ABA therapy. Gluten free/Casein free diet. Supplements. The importance of the Brain- Gut Axis. Social stories. Visual aids. Sensory blankets. Sleeping Aides. Melatonin. Hours upon hours in the dead of night desperately looking for the Holy Grail that would “save” you.

Only, you don’t need to be saved or fixed.

You are not damaged my darling. You just need to be seen and understood. I know this now.

Like trying to smash a round peg into a square hole, our world is frightening, chaotic and confusing place to live for you. Dominant yet unwritten rules seem to form a delicate and intricate web that is the foundation of our human interaction. Operating in this neurotypical world, everyone seems to intrinsically know what these invisible rules are, except you. This in part, is what makes living with Autism a challenge for you.

You are not alone. As a neurotypical individual, those rules confuse even me at times. But I am here to help you navigate those situations and learn some general guidelines.

My darling, you have been unconditionally accepting of me. You have also taught me so much.


Mumma and Son
Tangible Happiness

You teach me daily to be patient. To stop, breathe and to listen.

You teach me daily what it is to be a mother.

You teach me daily about trust.

But most of all my dearest child, you teach me daily about love. How to love, how to be loved and how to accept love.

So my gorgeous Son,

Forgive me for my mistakes.

I see you.

You are my child with Autism.  Autism does not define you.

I see you.

You are so much more, so much greater than any diagnosis.

I see you.

My love. My DNA. I will always love and adore you, for you.

You are seen.

Mumma xx






I Am Who I Am

One of my nearest and dearest, my “Sister from another Mister” (figuratively speaking and literally, j’adore her so she may as well be), planted the seed. “You need to share you. Get that stuff outta your head and share it with others,” she said after a particularly challenging time with some hideously toxic family dynamics. “Write a blog. Get it out there. You helped me. Fucken share babe.”


Having never thought myself a writer, I laughed. Have never thought myself terribly wise, insightful or all together, I snorted. Dismissed it. Drank some more wine.

But….niggling in the most primitive part of my brain stem came the whisper. What if? Yessssss. It hisses quietly. Yessssssss. It breathed greedily, audible now and subconsciously it spawned. Yesssssss. Do it. DO it. Do IT. DO IT. It began to irritate and itch.

Being a very private and at times socially awkward with debilitating shyness, I quickly squashed that Yesssss to no fucking way. I’ve been judged so harshly in my life and left emotionally bloodied, dismembered and broken.

The itch. The hiss. Yessssssss. DO IT.

Being acutely hypersensitive, could I? Would I? A perfectionist bordering on the obsessive neurotic to excel, should I? Yessssss. DO IT.

Fuck it. To quell the itch, here we are. With procrastination and motivational paralysis based in a fear of failure, weighing heavily on one shoulder and the middle finger to my insecurities on the other, I begin to write.

Laying myself bare, article after article. For publishing at another time. The question at the centre of it all, am I good enough? More honestly, am I enough?

At 40, is it normal to still question our deepest selves like this? Shouldn’t we have it together by now? Isn’t it written or universally known that when you turn 40, suddenly you’re hot, sassy and got your shit worked out? I think I may have skived off that lesson.

I’m a woman. A Mum to an 8-year-old boy. A wife of 10 years. Both incredible male specimens that are part of the Autism spectrum. I have been an OT (Occupational Therapist), a successful business owner, a senior business executive. I have an MBA, a post graduate in Risk Management and countless other acreditations. I am a qualified mediator. Managed hundreds of people of various socio-economic and cultural backgrounds, helped others who have been most seriously and irretrievably injured from work reclaim their lives, sorted multiple large and small workplace conflicts, and managed “telephone book number” style operational budgets. On paper and impersonally, I am impressive.

But……but……still…Am “I” enough?

Intrinsically, I know.

Yes I am.


The beauty of 40 is you become clear and accept that you are. I am sensitive, intuitive and smart. I know people and I value the individual differences that make you, you.

Not one person is the same and certainly not one person on the spectrum is the same.

We are all beautifully perfect and flawed to create the mosaic of our existence. Unlike my 20’s where my self doubt was masked by aggression and large shoulder pads, sharp tailoring and a French roll, today I mange it with quiet courage and measured resilience. I combat my fear of failure; need for perfectionism by embracing it as just a part of me.  Using and channeling it to help me achieve. It is one piece of the puzzle that makes me who I am.

And in the words of Gloria Gaynor, I am what I am and what I am needs no excuses.

Neither do you.

Has approaching or turning 40 changed your perspective? Do you still give much thought to other peoples opinions? How do you know that you are enough?

Neve xx