“There’s something wrong with me!” my seven-year-old daughter sobbed, back in 2018. “Honestly, there isn’t,” I said, giving her a hug. “You’re just a bit sensitive, a bit anxious.” I wanted to be the reassuring parent, the mum who makes everything all right. But I was having the opposite effect on her: I was underplaying her distress, and it scared her, and shook her faith in me. How could she get any help if I didn’t accept there was a problem?
At the time her dad and I didn’t know our daughter was autistic. She was certainly not the easiest to manage, but she was also funny, bright, imaginative and popular at school. And although we were aware that she had intrusive thoughts, separation and sensory issues, a nasty phobia and difficulty controlling her emotions, her teachers, our GP, relatives and friends told us not to worry too much. “She’s a character! She’ll be fine.”
