🪺 Glimmer Nest: What I Know About Autism

Love, Myths, and the Power of Community

In the wake of recent public figures making sweeping, reductive statements about autism, I’ve found myself caught up in a lot of very unhelpful thought patterns. When autism is reduced to something tragic or broken, families like mine are left to pick up the emotional pieces. As a parent of a child with autism—and as someone who builds communities for those navigating self-care, high-needs parenting, career challenges, and mental health—I feel both a responsibility and a deep weariness. I want to speak up. I also want to retreat.

Not out of fear. Out of fatigue.

I’m tired. Tired of being scrutinized, misjudged, or expected to educate others every time a harmful comment goes viral. Tired of making decisions that feel more like coin tosses than confident steps, because we rarely have all the information we need. I know destructive rhetoric when I hear it—but I don’t always have the energy to confront it on top of everything else. Sometimes, I just want to plug my ears and focus on protecting my child.

But silence has its cost. And so, even when I’m running on fumes, I speak. I speak because our stories matter. Because neurodivergent lives deserve respect—not pity, not spin, and certainly not shame.

Our Autism Journey

Our story began when our son was around 18 months old. We celebrated his first words—“dada” and “mummm”—and expected more to follow. But instead, his eye contact began to fade. The meltdowns became frequent, intense, and mysterious. Panic crept in. We didn’t know what was happening, only that something had shifted—and we were suddenly plunged into a world of evaluations, uncertainty, and worry.

In those moments, what no parent needs is someone labeling their child’s neurodiversity as “wrong” or “broken.” Autism isn’t destruction—it’s a different way of experiencing and connecting with the world. Yes, it brings challenges. But it also brings unique strengths, fresh ways of thinking, and beautiful, unexpected expressions of love.

Challenging the Myths

One of the most persistent and damaging myths about autism is that autistic people lack empathy. Nothing could be further from the truth. My son is deeply loving and attuned to those around him. He’s my “huggy bear,” often asking me with tender concern, “Is mommy okay?”

He may not always interpret facial expressions or social cues in a typical way, but his empathy runs deep. What often appears as disconnection is simply a different form of communication, one that requires more curiosity and less assumption.

These myths don’t just confuse—they isolate. They dehumanize. And they make it harder for families like mine to be seen, heard, and supported.

The Power of Naming and Knowing

We chose to be open with our son about his autism diagnosis—a decision research increasingly supports. Studies show that children who learn about their neurodivergence earlier in life tend to have better self-esteem and overall wellbeing as they grow.

Being open allowed us to seek support, ask questions, and build a circle of understanding around our family. Still, that openness doesn’t shield us from unsolicited advice or miracle cures from well-meaning friends and relatives. I’ve had to learn how to gently but firmly respond: Our child is not a puzzle to be solved. He is a person to be understood, supported, and celebrated.

Why Community Support Matters So Much

Navigating autism isn’t just about therapies or accommodations—it’s about creating the support systems that allow entire families to breathe, grow, and thrive. Studies increasingly show what many of us already know intuitively: there’s a strong link between caregiver mental health (especially maternal mental health) and the outcomes of autistic children.

Support isn’t optional. It’s vital. And it can look like:

Support Groups: Sharing space with others who get it—really get it—can be a lifeline.

Respite Care Networks: Taking turns to give each other breaks helps prevent burnout.

Educational Workshops: Equipping families with practical tools makes a real difference.

Online Communities: For those 2 a.m. spiral moments when you need to feel less alone.*

Inclusive Events: Celebrations that welcome everyone, not just the neurotypical.

Professional Mental Health Support: Especially providers who understand the unique load autism families carry.

Seeking support is not a weakness. It’s a courageous act of sustainability—for your child, and for yourself.

*A Community That Walks With You

If you’re looking for something more structured, I invite you to check out Autism Roadmaps, a doctor-led and member led online community I manage. It’s a place where families like ours can access evidence-based guidance, compassionate peer support, and a recognition that there’s no one-size-fits-all approach.

This isn’t about quick fixes—it’s about building a foundation of support you can count on. Use the code KATGIFT to access a free month.

What We Actually Need

We don’t need more celebrities or politicians making blanket statements about autism. We need access—to real support, early interventions, inclusive education, and workplaces that see neurodiversity as an asset, not a liability.

We need nuance. Compassion. Action.

Every autistic person is unique. Every family’s story is different. But what connects us is a desire to see our children—and ourselves—thrive, not just survive.

To Those Just Starting the Journey

You are not alone. Whether you’re still waiting for a diagnosis or you’ve been walking this road for years, there is a community of people who understand, who will hold space for your questions, and who will cheer for your wins—no matter how small they may seem to others.

And to the friends, relatives, and educators who want to support: your curiosity, your kindness, and your willingness to listen without fixing can mean more than you know.

This Is Bigger Than Autism

As someone deeply invested in community building, I’ve learned this truth again and again: when we create spaces where people feel safe to be themselves, everyone benefits.

This isn’t just about autism—it’s about humanity. It’s about honoring difference, practicing compassion, and recognizing that vulnerability is not a weakness—it’s a bridge to connection.

We are not trying to fix our children. We are trying to fix a world that too often treats them as problems instead of people. And in doing so, we are learning to care for ourselves and each other more fully.

Wishing you strength, patience, and moments of joy on this journey,

P.S. -When I need inspiration, I often turn to a video of Keala Settle performing "This Is Me" for the first time with her Greatest Showman rehearsal cast. It's a powerful reminder of how we can rally for our kids and ourselves. If you're curious, you can watch it below. It never fails to move me and reminds me of the strength we all have within us.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Let’s keep building those bridges. Let’s keep telling the truth, even when we’re tired. And let’s keep showing up—for our kids, for ourselves, and for a future that holds more hope, more understanding, and more room for everyone to thrive.

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