Autism and Big Feelings: Holding Space for Every Experience

There are a lot of conversations happening right now about autism,

Acknowledging the diverse voices and personal experiences related to autism: "We Hear You."

what causes it, what it means for families, and how society should respond. These conversations can bring up strong feelings for parents, professionals, and self-advocates alike. My intention here is not to add to the noise or the politics, but simply to acknowledge something important: all of those feelings and experiences are valid.

Autism exists on a spectrum, and that spectrum is wide. I’ve seen this both professionally, working with children, and personally, as a sibling of someone with autism. For some, autism means seeing the world through a different lens, bringing creativity, honesty, and unique ways of thinking. With the right supports and accommodations, many autistic individuals thrive, and society benefits when we adapt to include them fully.

But autism can also bring profound challenges. I think of children who hurt themselves out of frustration or who cannot communicate what they need to feel safe and calm. I think of parents who live with constant worry about their child’s safety, sometimes fearing their child might run into the street or lash out in ways they cannot control. For these families, the desire for answers, for relief, or even for a “cure” is deeply human. Their love for their child doesn’t make their exhaustion or fear any less real.

It can feel like these perspectives are at odds- acceptance versus intervention, accommodation versus change. But maybe both belong. We can believe in acceptance and dignity for every individual, while also exploring tangible ways to reduce suffering and increase safety and quality of life. These goals don’t cancel each other out; they work together.

At the heart of it, whether we are parents, siblings, professionals, or advocates, we share a common desire: to help children and adults with autism live fuller, happier lives. Sometimes that means making society more inclusive, through sensory-friendly events, visual supports in classrooms, or everyday accommodations. Sometimes it means looking for therapies, tools, or medical supports that ease the hardest struggles. And often, it means both.

So here’s my message: to every parent, every sibling, every autistic self-advocate, and every teacher, your feelings are valid. If you are proud of your child, that pride matters. If you are exhausted and grieving, those feelings matter too. If you are hopeful for more inclusion or hopeful for more answers, your hope matters.

Two divergent forest paths symbolize how our unique journeys may differ, yet we can still support one another along the way.

We don’t all walk the same path, but we can support one another by holding space for all of experiences with autism. And as we do, let’s keep asking: How can we, as families and as a community, continue to adapt, support, and reduce harm- while never losing sight of the dignity and humanity of every child and adult with autism?