7 Things That Actually Built Our Relationship

1. Understanding the Why Behind the Behaviour, Not Just the Behaviour Itself

My daughter has social anxiety and can only hold a few people close in her circle. So when it comes to big events, there's an unspoken expectation that, because she's a child, she needs to make the rounds and greet everyone. And because I come across to most people as a social butterfly, they assume she'll be the same.

At these events, I stay right beside her, greeting people, introducing her, easing the way. Once the introductions are done, I let her step back into whatever space she needs. If that means she doesn't come out again for the rest of the evening, that's fine. She did what she could, and that's enough, even if no one else understands why.

2. Listening, Even When What She's Saying Is Hard to Hear

Tattoos have never sat well with me. I hold nothing against anyone who chooses to have one, if that's how you choose to express yourself, that's entirely your own business, but it isn't something I want for myself, or something I ever imagined wanting for my daughter. We'd had this conversation for months, and my answer never changed: you can have a tattoo once I'm no longer here to have an opinion about it.

Then, one day, I finally asked the right question instead of giving the same answer: why does having a tattoo matter so much to you? The answer caught me completely off guard. She didn't want just any tattoo. She wanted my name, in my own handwriting, a small piece of me she could carry with her every day. That's when I understood it was never really about the tattoo. It was about wanting me with her, permanently.

3. Advocating for Her, Even When the School or the System Pushes Back

There have been so many difficult days, but one still stays with me. She came home in tears and said, "Mommy, I made a teacher cry, and now I'm going to be suspended." Once I'd heard her side of it, my heart broke, not because of what she'd done, but because I knew that no matter what I did next, the adults involved would still be believed over her, and she would end up with the short end of the stick.

I say this as a teacher myself, not as someone bashing the profession. But how we use our authority with these children matters enormously.

4. Giving Her Permission to Be Different From Other Kids Her Age

The books she reads are not what most people would call age-appropriate. Nothing inappropriate in the adult sense, but the themes can be genuinely dark. Here's how I see it: she's dyslexic, and for most of her life she actively avoided reading altogether. Now she picks up these books and finishes them within days. So no, I won't hand her the age-appropriate alternative instead. Doing that would all but guarantee she never wants to pick up a book again.

5. Not Punishing Her for Having a Meltdown

When she's mid-meltdown, shouting, slamming doors, refusing to engage, or simply shutting down and avoiding everything, I give her the room to have it. That space matters more than anything I could say in the moment.

6. Protecting Her From People or Situations That Shame Her or Knock Her Down

Another school story, and unfortunately there are many, because school systems are genuinely difficult terrain for neurodivergent children to navigate. I'm not generally in favour of phones at school, but I've learned that hers is her safety net. She knows that as long as she's been respectful and has genuinely tried, I will always have her back, even when others can't see it for what it is. If she's acting for the wrong reasons, that's a different conversation, and I won't defend that.

She wanted to be part of the athletics team, and during a practice session she hurt her ankle. To her teacher, it looked minor, a bit of ice and she'd be right as rain, ready to run again. She tried to explain to the teacher, then to the school secretary, that she couldn't continue. Eventually, knowing she'd be in trouble for it, since the school has a rule against pupils calling parents to ask to come home, she called me anyway. It had overwhelmed her to the point that she couldn't imagine finishing the day. I'd been reprimanded before for allowing those calls, but this time I went back through the proper channels and explained something I've had to explain more than once: telling a neurotypical child to walk it off usually works, ice the injury and carry on. For a neurodivergent child, that same instruction, unheard and dismissed, can multiply the overwhelm many times over, until she genuinely cannot stay at school for the rest of the day.

It takes real effort, every time, to help a teacher understand that the same situation can produce a completely different response depending on the child in front of them, and that the response deserves to be treated differently too. I say this, again, as a teacher myself, not to criticise the profession, but because we don't always pause to consider that a reaction, however it looks, is a form of communication. That's worth listening to, every time.

7. Making Sure She Knows She's Loved Exactly as She Is, Not as You Wish She Were

When others criticise her, or respond to her in a way she doesn't expect, I can see that some part of her wants to believe the whole world thinks the way I do, open and accepting. Inevitably, she has to face heartbreak and criticism that prove otherwise. In those moments, I tell her: if it matters to you, come to me, and we'll talk it through. Not everyone will see you the way I do, and I know that's not what you'd choose. But that's exactly why I keep doing what I do, advocating for you, and continuing to educate the people around us, so that you, and others like you, face a little less of that unnecessary weight.

What These Seven Things Have in Common

None of these moments looked like parenting advice while I was living through them. They looked like an unwanted tattoo, a call from school I wasn't supposed to allow, a book I probably shouldn't have let her read. It was only looking back that I saw the thread running through all seven: every one of them meant choosing to see her clearly, even when that was inconvenient, even when it went against what I'd have chosen for her, and even when no one else around us would have made the same call.

That's really what building trust with her has come down to. Not getting every response right in the moment, I haven't, and won't. It's letting her know, over and over, in these small specific ways, that I see her as she actually is, not as I once expected her to be. That's the part that's actually held us together.

— Tania, Tansley Express