Okay, this one is so important Dea. This week I accompanied my son to the GP about anxiety, which led to him explaining he has been on the waiting list for an autism assessment since he was a teen (various NHS blunders) and he wondered if his constant anxiety was linked. She listened to him, but more than that, she SAW him. She saw the struggles, the physical manifestation of that anxiety, the energy it took for him to communicate all this. And she offered to fast track him for assessment via a new system. He should have a diagnosis within a year - not in time to support him through his final exams at university but certainly in time for him to face employment armed with an explanation for who he is (which is what he wants). Honestly, I could have wept with relief that someone recognised the struggle and did something practical about it. So everything you are saying here hit home for me. These are real differences that real people live with on a daily basis and they require all the respect and understanding you describe. Thank you, Dea. This matters.❤️
What you described, that moment of being seen, truly seen… it’s everything.
Not just for your son, but for you too. The silent strength, the waiting, the holding, the hoping. And then someone doesn’t just listen, but recognises. That kind of witnessing feels like grace.
Your words hold the weight of lived reality, and I’m honoured they found a mirror in what I wrote.
This is exactly why we speak. For those moments when the invisible becomes named. When difference is not something to manage, but something to understand and honour.
And what your son is choosing, to walk into life with clarity about his own nature, not as a label but as a form of sovereignty: that’s a rare kind of courage. A quiet brilliance. Something the world deeply needs more of.
Thank you for trusting me with this part of your journey.
Okay, this one is so important Dea. This week I accompanied my son to the GP about anxiety, which led to him explaining he has been on the waiting list for an autism assessment since he was a teen (various NHS blunders) and he wondered if his constant anxiety was linked. She listened to him, but more than that, she SAW him. She saw the struggles, the physical manifestation of that anxiety, the energy it took for him to communicate all this. And she offered to fast track him for assessment via a new system. He should have a diagnosis within a year - not in time to support him through his final exams at university but certainly in time for him to face employment armed with an explanation for who he is (which is what he wants). Honestly, I could have wept with relief that someone recognised the struggle and did something practical about it. So everything you are saying here hit home for me. These are real differences that real people live with on a daily basis and they require all the respect and understanding you describe. Thank you, Dea. This matters.❤️
Oh Trudi… this touched me deeper than I can say.
What you described, that moment of being seen, truly seen… it’s everything.
Not just for your son, but for you too. The silent strength, the waiting, the holding, the hoping. And then someone doesn’t just listen, but recognises. That kind of witnessing feels like grace.
Your words hold the weight of lived reality, and I’m honoured they found a mirror in what I wrote.
This is exactly why we speak. For those moments when the invisible becomes named. When difference is not something to manage, but something to understand and honour.
And what your son is choosing, to walk into life with clarity about his own nature, not as a label but as a form of sovereignty: that’s a rare kind of courage. A quiet brilliance. Something the world deeply needs more of.
Thank you for trusting me with this part of your journey.
With all my heart,
Dea 💛🌀