When Tamra Judge, star of “The Real Housewives of Orange County,” recently announced her autism diagnosis, it sparked a whirlwind of reactions. As an autism mom of 13 years, my initial feelings were intense—ranging from disbelief to anger. Raising a child on the spectrum has been a journey marked by profound challenges, daily heartbreaks, and constant advocacy.
Hearing Tamra reveal her diagnosis so casually, without the depth of understanding or experience, felt like a slap in the face to families like mine who live this reality every day.
But then I took a step back. Autism isn’t the same for everyone—it presents differently in every individual, especially for women who often go undiagnosed until later in life. Still, I found myself conflicted, questioning whether her announcement was genuine or if it was simply an excuse for her bad behaviour on the show.
In this blog, I want to explore these mixed feelings and offer a glimpse into the realities of autism, both as a condition and a diagnosis that impacts not just individuals, but entire families.
A World Not Built for Kids on the Spectrum
For kids like my daughter, the world can feel overwhelming—a place that’s too bright, too loud, too chaotic. It often feels like the world wasn’t built for them. My daughter struggles with sensory sensitivities, which makes it hard for her to be in busy, noisy places like school. The overhead lights, the constant hum of conversation, kids acting out—these things, which many children might find mildly distracting, are huge obstacles for her.
Autism Parenting Magazine explains that sensory processing issues are common in autistic children and can cause them to feel overwhelmed by sounds, lights, and touch. For my daughter, these sensitivities often trigger meltdowns and anxiety attacks that make a typical school day feel impossible to get through. She’s forced to endure an environment that’s almost tailor-made to overstimulate her senses.
And then there’s the bullying. My daughter struggles with reading social signals, understanding concepts like personal space, regulating her voice volume, and following the flow of conversation. She often gets too close, speaks too loudly, or doesn’t know when to enter or end a conversation.
Despite her kind heart and good intentions, she’s been ostracized and bullied so severely that we’ve had to change schools. The pain of watching her struggle to fit in, of seeing her beautiful spirit crushed under the weight of her peers’ rejection, is almost unbearable.
And don’t get me started about the lack of acknowledgment, understanding or support from school officials, the staggering amount of time I had to spend advocating for her and the number of meetings I had to initiate to try and make school a safe space. (That’s another blog entirely).
The Emotional and Physical Impact of Autism
Anxiety is a constant companion for my daughter. The fear of being bullied, the pressure to conform, and the overwhelming sensory input create an emotional cocktail that often results in meltdowns.
These aren’t the minor tantrums that some people might imagine—they are full-blown panic attacks that can last for hours, leaving both of us completely drained for the rest of the day. And these aren’t just emotional responses—they manifest physically, too.
Autistic children often experience physical symptoms tied to their anxiety, like gastrointestinal issues, frequent headaches, or even asthma. My daughter frequently complains of stomach aches and other physical discomforts on the days when her anxiety is at its peak. Anxiety and gastrointestinal problems are closely linked in autistic children, and it’s a struggle I see play out daily in my own household.
Executive Function and Daily Struggles
Even the simplest tasks, like getting ready for school in the morning, can feel insurmountable for my daughter. She struggles with executive function, which means organizing tasks and managing time can be incredibly difficult. While a neurotypical child might be able to get dressed, pack their backpack, and leave the house in 10 minutes, my daughter takes significantly longer because she can’t easily break down the steps in her head.
Executive function challenges manifest in autistic children in countless ways, making it hard to manage even routine tasks. For my daughter, things like tying her shoes, packing her lunch, or remembering what order to do things in are daily battles that take ten times as long as a neurotypical child would take. And when the world expects her to keep up with her peers, it adds even more anxiety to her already overwhelming load.
Tying It Back to Tamra’s Autism Announcement
This is why Tamra Judge’s announcement initially felt like a punch to the gut. As an autism mom, I know firsthand the profound challenges and daily struggles that come with raising a child on the spectrum. So when Tamra casually mentioned her diagnosis on her podcast, claiming she was diagnosed in one therapy session, it raised a lot of red flags.
Diagnosing autism typically takes multiple assessments with specialists, and the process is often lengthy and thorough. Could someone really be diagnosed in one session?
Reality Blurb’s article on the backlash Tamra received highlights how Tamra’s announcement was met with skepticism, especially given her reputation for dishonesty on “Real Housewives.” To some, it seemed like she might be using autism as an excuse for her bad behaviour on the show—a harmful narrative that could reinforce negative stereotypes about people on the spectrum.
Understanding Late Autism Diagnosis in Women
But on the other hand, it’s also important to acknowledge that autism often goes undiagnosed in women, who tend to mask their symptoms more effectively than men. Tamra could very well be one of the many women who were overlooked in childhood and only diagnosed later in life. Autism is frequently underdiagnosed in adult women, who often learn to hide their struggles and adapt to neurotypical expectations.
While my initial reaction was skepticism, I now see that Tamra’s diagnosis could still be valid. If she is truly on the spectrum, it’s important to have compassion for her and recognize that her journey may be different from others. However, it’s also crucial that we don’t allow this announcement to perpetuate harmful stereotypes about autism.
Conclusion: Balancing Compassion and Critical Thinking
At the end of the day, Tamra Judge’s announcement brings to light the complexities of autism, particularly in how it’s perceived and diagnosed in adults. While we should approach her situation with compassion, it’s equally important to demand a responsible conversation around autism—one that doesn’t reduce it to a convenient label or excuse.
Autism is not an excuse for bad behaviour, and it certainly isn’t a tool for garnering sympathy or avoiding accountability. It’s a condition that profoundly impacts individuals and families and deserves to be discussed with the respect and seriousness it warrants.
For those reading this, I urge you to educate yourselves further about autism and how it affects not only individuals but their families, friends, and communities. Let’s foster a conversation rooted in understanding, not judgment, and continue supporting and advocating for those on the spectrum in every way possible.
It’s the second day of school, and my stomach is clenched tight, a cold knot of fury radiating from within and extending through my fingers as I type. Within hours of my daughter’s first day of school, her frenemy, AKA her bully, was at her again.
I’d like to say I handled it well. I did not.
You see, this isn’t the first time my daughter has experienced a put-down, slight, or attempt at ostracism from this particular ex-friend. It’s not even the tenth. We’ve gone through two years of dealing with this relational bullying, and the effects on my daughter have been devastating.
Because my daughter is on the autism spectrum and has ADHD, she is more at risk of being a target of mean girls and queen bees. I’d like to say the data on this is incorrect. I can’t. Throughout her short life, my vibrant, unique, intelligent daughter has always been targeted by those kids for many reasons, but perhaps the biggest cause is that she’s different.
My daughter is ASD Level 1, which means you wouldn’t know she’s autistic by looking at her. This invisible difference makes it easy for others to target her for being different without understanding the neurological reasons behind those differences.
And, of course, girls, in particular, are the worst when it comes to cruelty. I experienced mean girl behaviour daily in elementary school, making detachment and objectivity very difficult to find after a lifetime of being targeted myself and observing a lifetime of my daughter being targeted by her tormenters.
Evidence shows over 60% of children and young adults with autism experience bullying. Among them, high schoolers are most likely to be bullied. School-aged children on the autism spectrum who do not need special health care and those from disadvantaged neighbourhoods are also more likely to be bullied than other autistic children.
This article will explore the effects of bullying and relational bullying, particularly for children with autism, through an intimate and personal lens. We’ll cover what bullying and relational bullying are, their effects on children, the emotional challenges parents face alongside their bullied tweens, and how to deal with them.
Together, let’s explore how we can protect children with autism from bullying and help them grow up resilient, confident, and safe.
The word “bully” prompts a knee-jerk reaction from parents. After all, no one wants to think their child might be guilty of bullying behaviour. The truth is, many kids are bullies, and many are bullied, and sometimes tweens can fall in between and become both victim and perpetrator.
So, what exactly is bullying, and how do we know we are using the term correctly?
Bullying is defined as aggressive behaviour intended to cause fear, harm, distress, or create an uncomfortable environment for someone. It often involves repeated behaviours and an imbalance of power between the perpetrator and the victim.
This power difference could suggest a difference in age, grade or physical size. Bullying behaviour can take on many forms aside from physical or verbal abuse, such as:
Excluding or isolating a person
Spreading rumours or doing things to embarrass someone
Using technology (texts, emails, social media) to harass someone
Taking or damaging property
When it comes to girls on the spectrum, they are especially vulnerable to relational bullying or “mean girl” type behaviours due to their difficulty in making friends and their social awkwardness.
This dynamic can put them at risk of becoming the target of gossip and exclusion. Girls with autism may also be more susceptible to humiliation or intentional humiliation due to their sometimes associated language and communication difficulties.
In my daughter’s case, her ex-friend wields her control over her friend group to exclude her and takes every opportunity to dismiss my daughter’s accomplishments, make her feel bad about herself, and stress how no one likes her.
This type of bullying, called relational aggression, seems to be the weapon of choice in “girl world.” (If you grew up in girl world, I know you can relate). Let’s take a closer look.
Defining Relational Aggression
As a child, I was bullied relentlessly in elementary school. I was an easy target. I wasn’t that cute (I grew into my looks later, fortunately); I was a smartypants who used big words and trained as a competitive figure skater.
This meant I missed more school days than I was there for coaching and practice sessions, making it harder for me to fit in or even defend myself on the days I was absent from the rumours created by my nemeses.
Of course, add that I was perceived as a – gasp! – goody-goody who didn’t smoke or kiss boys, and I had the perfect combination of traits that made me stand out.
And not in a good way.
It was common to go to school and have not one person talk to me the entire day upon instructions from our “queen bee.” This included my supposed best friend, who would turn her back when I begged her to speak to me.
Then there were the whispers behind my back, the giggles and jokes made at my expense, and the put-downs. To this day, I struggle with self-esteem issues and setting boundaries.
Unfortunately, this incredibly unfair form of bullying is quite common, especially among girls. Also known as “relational bullying,” it is an insidious type of abuse that differs from traditional bullying and involves more subtle forms of aggression, such as exclusion or spreading rumours.
This harassment is used to damage someone’s relationships or social status and is often more challenging to detect as it is much less overt. It can be devastatingly effective as these relational behaviours can damage people’s self-esteem and leave them feeling isolated in a way that can be harder to overcome than traditional physical bullying.
Children with autism – who may already have difficulty in social situations or picking up on complex social cues – can be especially vulnerable, as they may misread social signals or have a harder time communicating.
Peggy Moss at Empowering Parents lists the following as possible types of relational bullying:
Intimidation
Exclusion
Spreading rumours
Putting down others in a group setting
Gossiping about others
Outcasting
Humiliating
Cyberbullying
Backstabbing
These kinds of behaviours can have serious potential consequences, including depression, anxiety, physical health problems, and increased risk for conduct problems.
At the same time, though, it is crucial to recognize that the effects of relational bullying can be overcome. It is, after all, a form of abuse that can be identified and addressed.
It takes time and hard work, but raising awareness can help young girls know the signs to look out for and how to react to such bullying constructively.
Why Are ASD Level 1 Girls So Susceptible to Relational Aggression?
It might help to understand why kids with Level I autism are more at risk than their Level II and III counterparts. First, let’s break down the classification system used by the experts to categorize different levels of ASD diagnoses.
Autism can manifest in various levels; most people fill in somewhere on the continuum. It’s important to understant that these levels are just a general guide and the condition manifests differently in everyone.
Level 1
Sometimes referred to as “high-functioning” or “Asperger Syndrome” (there is much debate about the appropriateness of these terms within autism communities so I felt it important to address), it refers to someone likely to require support for some of the following:
Difficulty in back-and-forth communication
Trouble with social cues and body language
Social anxiety and burnout from long-term masking
Issues with transitioning between activities
Challenges in organization and planning
Level II
Requires substantial support and has:
Difficulty with masking
Limited ability to change focus or activities
Engagement in noticeable repetitive behaviour or stimming,
Struggles with societal norms due to a neurotypical-centric environment
Level III
Needing very substantial support and:
Is unable to mask
Experiences a high self-regulation burden
Has significant difficulty with verbal and non-verbal communication
Struggles with changes in focus or location
Engages in noticeable repetitive behaviours
Is at increased risk for neglect, abuse and discrimination
It’s no surprise that Level I girls are more likely to come into contact with the relational bullying their peers often face because of their wide range of social abilities. They typically don’t have the same social communication and interaction skills as the general population, thus making them more vulnerable to mean-girl treatment.
For instance, my daughter struggles with:
Reading verbal social cues
Entirely missing or misinterpreting non-verbal social cues
Knowing when to enter a conversation
Taking things literally
Knowing when someone is not interested in her favourite subject of interest that she wants to share with the world because it’s AWESOME
Understanding when someone has had enough of a particular conversation and is ready to move on
The boundaries of personal space and when someone is uncomfortable if she’s in theirs
Misreading other’s intentions for good or for ill
Because of this, my daughter has been targeted her entire life, and it can be heartbreaking to bear witness to the experience of my child being made to feel lower and lesser than her peers.
It’s made her more withdrawn, less outgoing and less trusting of those around her. But it’s not all hopeless – as I have worked with my daughter, I have noticed that her self-advocacy has improved, and she can stand up for herself when it counts.
It is of utmost importance that girls with autism get the support, love, affection and understanding they need to help them learn to cope with life’s struggles and gain confidence.
With the right environment and guidance, these girls can find their voices and learn to thrive in an often challenging world.
Effects of Relational Bullying on Autistic Girls
It’s difficult to put into words the effects this constant harassment has had on my daughter. Keep in mind, she’s dealt with it her entire. short. life – in every grade, in online school during the pandemic, at her dance studio, and even from instructors who didn’t know any better.
I first saw it manifested in debilitating nightmares and insomnia during the summer between Senior Kindergarten and Grade 1. My daughter would wake up crying and be unable to sleep.
She would have nightmares of herself sitting alone under a tree at school because no one would talk to her. And it’s only gotten worse from there. Imagine that every. day. of. your. life. you have to deal with someone trying to make you feel wrong. defective. less than.
On top of that, you must deal with all the other challenges you face of navigating a neurotypical world in a neuroatypical body and brain. Here’s a list of the harm this type of bullying can cause:
Depression
Anxiety
Insomnia
Low self-worth
Headaches
Nausea
Stomach aches
School avoidance
Fear of social situations
The urge to self-harm
Eating disorders
Trouble concentrating
Stress-related sicknesses
These are the lasting effects of relational bullying that can affect an autistic girl. It’s insidious, and it’s as real as anything can get. It can set in motion a lifetime of negative consequences and can take away the joyousness of childhood.
This is why it’s so important we start having honest conversations about bullying and its effects in our schools – especially regarding autistic girls. We need to create safe learning environments that are aware of these dynamics and how to prevent them in the first place.
We need more education and understanding of autism, both within the schools and the larger community. We need to make sure our children know there is always hope. That there is another way. No matter what they face today, tomorrow is a new dawn.
The Blind Spots: Why Teachers and Coaches Often Miss the Signs
If you think spotting relational aggression is like searching for a needle in a haystack for us parents, imagine what it’s like for teachers and coaches who have multiple kids to manage.
The Resource Crunch
Let’s start with the most obvious yet understated problem: resources. Teachers and coaches are often stretched thin, juggling between academic responsibilities, extracurricular activities, and yes, maintaining a semblance of order among the kids.
Too Few Eyes, Too Many Kids: There’s only so much ground a teacher can cover. The schoolyard, during recess or after school, often becomes a ‘safe’ space for bullies, knowing there’s less adult supervision.
Lack of Specialized Training: Recognizing relational aggression requires specialized training that most educators haven’t received.
The Discord Between Peers and Teachers
There’s a serious disconnect between how teachers and peers view relational aggression. This disparity is especially troubling.
Academic Bias: Teachers often base their judgments on academic performance and classroom behavior. A student excelling in these areas may not raise any red flags, even though they could be a principal antagonist on the playground.
Popularity Paradox: Female students who are popular and overtly aggressive are more likely to be flagged by both teachers and peers. But what about those who operate covertly, hiding their malicious behavior under a guise of charm and friendliness?
The Silent Victims
Much like my daughter, many victims don’t want to ‘tattle.’ They internalize their pain, trying to handle the situation themselves, which often leads to further anxiety and emotional distress.
Fear of Retaliation: The fear of being labeled or facing worse aggression from the bully often keeps victims silent.
Low Self-reporting: This silence means that there are likely many more victims than what the statistics show, making the problem much bigger than it appears.
There’s no simple fix, but understanding why it’s so hard to spot and stop relational aggression is a crucial first step. Only then can we begin to think about meaningful interventions. And trust me, this is a fight worth taking on, not just for our kids, but for everyone’s.
The Emotional Rollercoaster: A Parent’s Journey Through Relational Aggression
I hear you. Honestly, I do. The emotional turmoil that comes with knowing your child is a target of relational aggression isn’t something you can just set aside. It follows you, creeping into the moments that should be free of worry, settling into a pit in your stomach that you can’t seem to shake. This isn’t just a story about kids on a playground; it’s about us parents, too.
The Tug of War: Protectiveness vs. Independence
For any parent, our child’s well-being is paramount. We want nothing more than to send our kids to a safe space where they can grow and thrive. But when that safe space turns hostile, the inner battle begins.
Over-Protection: You’re tempted to wrap them in a protective bubble. And why shouldn’t you? When your child is on the autism spectrum,the world already feels like a battlefield.
Fostering Independence: But you also know you can’t be there to shield them forever. Especially for autistic children, learning independence is critical.
The Emotional Cycle: A Journey Through Many Stages
Stage 1: Empathy and Kindness
It starts with preaching kindness, believing that empathy will prevail. You think, maybe if we understand the bully’s side, we can defuse the situation. You tell your child to be brave but kind, to stand up without sinking to their level.
Stage 2: Accountability
You work tirelessly with your child to help them navigate the social intricacies they naturally find challenging. Mindfulness techniques, social skills classes, breathing exercises, role-playing — you try it all. You do everything you can to equip your child to be the best version of themselves. (and it doesn’t escape your attention that others don’t seem to bother to do this much work with their kids, which frankly, builds resentment.)
Stage 3: Diplomacy
Next, you approach the other parent. You craft your words carefully, advocating for a collective effort to sort out the ‘social difficulties.’ Sometimes it works, and sometimes it explodes in your face, like my unfortunate social media encounter, which I still struggle to forgive myself for. Remember folks, never comment in anger, it never goes well.
Stage 4: Loss of Empathy
Finally, after years of frustration and roadblocks, you find that your reservoir of empathy has run dry. You’ve spent your life empowering kids, and now you’re at a point where negative feelings overshadow any goodwill you had left. And you blame yourself for it.
Emotional Toll: The Unseen Cost
Mental Health: Anxiety, sleepless nights, constant worry – it takes a toll on your mental well-being.
Strained Relationships: Sometimes, it even strains your relationship with your child as you both try to navigate the labyrinth of emotions.
Professional Life: I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t affected my ability to focus on my work, even though every dollar I earn is to ensure a better future for my tiny family.
The Way Forward: Is There One?
Honestly, I wish I had an easy answer, a one-size-fits-all solution. But what I do have is this community, right here, where we share, vent, find support, and pick up the pieces so we can face another day. Because, for our kids, we’ll walk through fire. But we don’t have to do it alone.
We’ve faced hurdles before; we’ll face this one, too. We’ll find a way to protect our children without smothering them, to build their independence without leaving them vulnerable. And hopefully, along the way, we’ll inspire others to stand up, take notice, and make changes that benefit not just our children, but every child who’s grappling with the tough social landscapes of childhood and adolescence.
Stay Connected, Share the Love
If you’ve found this blog post resonating with you, hit that ‘Like’ button and please do ‘Subscribe’ to stay updated on our journey and other important topics. Your support keeps this community thriving and is a beacon for others navigating the same challenges.
Also, I invite you to check out BellaZinga, an online print-on-demand store inspired by my daughter’s one-liners and special interests that serves as a platform for inclusion, education, awareness, and acceptance. Your support goes a long way in empowering us to make the world a more accepting place for our children.
If you do buy something, make sure to put our printable “Things Your Neurodivergent Friends Might Do” and my eBook “Friends Beyond Differences: Embracing Neurodiversity” in your cart.
These are great resources for educating neurotypical kids about their friends with invisible disabilities like autism and ADHD.
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The promotion is good until the end of September!
Thank you for being part of this incredible community. Together, we can turn our struggles into strength and pave a path for a future where every child feels safe, loved, and included.
So, share this post, spread the word, and let’s create a ripple effect of change. Because in this challenging journey, the more allies we have, the stronger we are.
If you or someone you know is the victim of bullying you can reach out to Bullying Canada at (877) 352 4497. Call or text anytime and their team of caring volunteers will help you. You don’t need to go through this alone.
Last weekend my daughter danced in her studio’s end-of-the-year recital. The show was a success, full of the usual suspects; seasoned performers hip-hopping their way to fame, teeny-weenies out for their dance debut loaded with sparkles and wide-eyed anticipation, and budding street dancers learning the breakdance ropes.
While all of these regular recital occurrences are heart-warming, what got me in the “feels” was that I got to watch the entire thing from the audience.
This may sound odd, given that my little dancer is not so little anymore. In fact, at nearly twelve, she’s taller than most grown women. And you’re likely now thinking that I’m a total helicopter mom, hovering like there’s no tomorrow, too afraid to cut the apron strings and let my daughter look after herself.
While that may be true, there’s also another factor to consider. You see, my daughter is neurodivergent; she has ADHD and is on the autism spectrum. This means that she is quirky, beautiful and (in my humble opinion) fucking brilliant.
It also means she has significant challenges in places and at events that you and your neurotypical kiddos likely take for granted.
I won’t ever take something like watching a dance recital from the audience for granted again. I’ll tell you why.
My daughter doesn’t look any different than your average tween. Given that she is considered Level 1 ASD (formerly known as Aspergers), nothing would cue you that she is any different from a neurotypical child.
This is why so many parents of kids on the spectrum get the side-eye, eye-rolls, and just about any other eye-related behaviour from other parents, teachers, doctors, etc.
No two children on the spectrum are the same, but let me share with you some of the challenges my daughter has had to overcome in her dance career.
Motor Difficulties
You know how kids can effortlessly tie their shoes or change outfits like they’re in a backstage dressing room of a Broadway show? Well, that’s not exactly a walk in the park for my kiddo.
With her motor skills functioning a little differently, quickly tying tap shoes or changing sparkly leotards might as well be an Olympic event. And let’s not forget the actual dance numbers.
With balance and coordination playing a cheeky game of hide-and-seek, the challenge of mastering those intricate steps is on another level.
Issues with Working Memory
Ever tried to keep track of multiple dance numbers, their order, and the steps for each in your head? My daughter tackles this challenge head-on every time she steps onto that stage.
Prioritizing tasks and decision-making are like trying to solve a Rubik’s cube blindfolded. The struggle with working memory is real y’all.
Executive Function Challenges
Imagine having a long list of instructions, each more complex than the last. Sound overwhelming? Now, think about how it feels when every day is filled with these lists and not having a freaking clue where to begin or how to put the required steps in order?
That’s the reality for children like my daughter. Delayed executive function development is like trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. Is it any wonder they get frustrated and lose their shit?
Emotional Dysregulation
Feelings for my daughter are like waves during a storm, overwhelming and unpredictable. Her emotions are big, bold, and often challenging to rein in. It’s like riding a roller coaster without a safety bar, thrilling but also a little scary.
The hardest part as her parent is to watch the shame and guilt play across her features once she has calmed down and realized what she said and did while she was struggling for control.
Even though my kiddo is starting to realize that when she gets overwhelmed, her frontal lobe is not in control, and she is in the clutches of her amygdala and the dreaded fight/flight/freeze/fawn (although there is a strong argument for using “feign” instead of fawn) response cycle, she still feels bad about her behaviour after the fact.
Sensory Sensitivities
Imagine being at a rock concert, but the music’s too loud, the lights are too bright, and the crowd’s too much. Now, try picturing that every time you’re in a room full of kids or under fluorescent lighting.
That’s what my daughter deals with — a world where sounds, smells, and sights can be as piercing as a siren’s call. Because she perceives the world differently and often more intensely, she can experience these sensations as discomfort and even pain.
Now see yourself at a dance competition or recital, packed together in a dressing room with hundreds of other dancers, all anxious and excited. The steady drum of chatter, shouting, crying, and music would be enough to drive a neurotypical person to drink, let alone someone who’s conditioned to perceive these stimuli as threats! (To clarify, I don’t let my daughter drink…so don’t come for me!)
Problems Reading Social Cues
Reading social cues for my daughter is like deciphering hieroglyphics without a Rosetta Stone. It’s tough not knowing how to fit into the social puzzle, feeling isolated in a room full of chattering children.
But thank the goddess for our dance studio. Through careful attention to fostering a climate and culture of family and inclusion, they have helped my daughter fit in every step of the way. I wish I could say the same for our previous studio, but that’s another story for another time. (And perhaps that aforementioned drink)
Triumph in the Dressing Room
Usually, I am my daughter’s special assistant in the dressing room. My job is to make sure she can navigate quick changes, take a sensory break if necessary, calm her in case of overwhelming nervousness to prevent meltdowns and help her navigate the environment and pressure around her.
I always ask my kiddo if she wants me there with her in the dressing room or if she’d like to try it on her own, as I’m trying to foster independence and push her boundaries, but I want her to feel ready for it.
So I wasn’t surprised when she asked me to be her special dressing room assistant once again.
I don’t mind this, but the fact is, it is usually only my daughter and me at these events. So when I’m below in a dressing room, I am not in the audience to hoot, holler, yell, and clap for her when she’s onstage. And that means she has no one in the audience to do that for her.
As you can imagine, for an only child who seldom sees her father and sees ALL the other families full of siblings and relatives attending, this is hard for both of us.
Still, I was prepared. I’d created extra lists for my l’il dancer with the order of her numbers, all carefully highlighted. I’d labelled each of her dance bags carefully, even crafting numbers to hang on each hanger so it would be easier to see which one was next.
I’d done all the things necessary to ensure a seamless experience. I’d packed all my kiddo’s sensory stuff, like headphones, earbuds, fidget spinners, a tablet and a charger, not to mention a cell phone. You name it; we were ready.
Then, suddenly, as we were setting her bag up in her designated space, my daughter shot me an “I’m so embarrassed my mom is here look” and started shooing me away.
I have to admit. I froze, unsure if I was actually seeing what I thought I was.
Sure enough, my daughter wanted me to leave her alone so she could hang with her dance friends. When I asked if she could handle the quick changes, she said she could, and I should leave her alone.
I just about cried. Partly, if I’m being honest, because this was a huge hurdle, and it meant my baby was growing up, which is difficult for every mama bear, neurodivergent or neurotypical alike.
But partly because of the overwhelming sense of relief and freedom to sit and enjoy myself at a function. Whether it was a family dinner, a holiday gathering, a school assembly, or a dance recital, I had yet been unable to do this.
I don’t think you can understand how it feels to always be alone when you’re the parent of a kiddo on the spectrum. Because your child is more, needs more, and demands more, you have to give more, be available more, be more organized, be more prepared, be more calm…I think you get the picture.
This sense of being an uber parent is not conducive to sitting and having a cocktail at a dinner party, socializing with family at a Christmas get-together, or watching your daughter shine onstage at dance recitals.
Until last week.
And shine, she did. Although it was hard to see from the tears in my eyes. (I’m not crying, you’re crying)
Parenting on the Spectrum Means You Celebrate the Ordinary Moments as if They Were Extraordinary
My daughter did it on her own, and I couldn’t be prouder. You see, for parents like me, we don’t just celebrate the recitals or awards. We celebrate the moments when our children prove to the world, and more importantly to themselves, that they are so much more than a label.
We celebrate when they show their strength and resilience in the face of adversity and face the challenges of a world that can be overwhelmingly stacked against them.
So yes, I won’t ever take something like watching a dance recital from the audience for granted again. Not because it’s a luxury but because it’s a testament to the beautiful, quirky, brilliant girl my daughter has become. And how damn proud I am of her.
If you want to share some ordinary yet extraordinary moments with your neurodivergent child, comment below, and follow me for more blogs!
Better yet, why not check out my online store, BellaZinga (inspired by my daughter and her neverending one-liners) for some merch with a side of neurodivergent sass? While you’re there, you can download my eBook “Friends Beyond Differences: Embracing Neurodiversity.”
It’s an engaging guide written specifically for neurotypical kids aged 6-12 to help them understand and embrace their neurodiverse peers.
And remember, our differences make us unique, but our humanity binds us together. Let’s ensure every child, regardless of their neurotype, feels accepted, loved, and capable of dancing their own unique rhythm.
In the grand scheme of things, it might not seem like a big deal, but the proverbial straw broke my back. As I sit, shaking, in the throes of my 5th panic attack since it happened – and desperately hoping that writing this blog is distraction enough to help me gain control – I’m still attempting to process it all.
But first, a little background for those who don’t know me well
I’m the full-time single momma to a whip-smart, precocious, multi-talented child who also happens to be on the spectrum, has ADHD and struggles with anxiety. This weekend has been a great weekend for her and, therefore, for me.
We went to see Avatar on Friday night with a friend from her old dance studio. To see them connect, share stories, support each other, and have a real-life give-and-take exchange (rare and difficult for some kiddos on the spectrum) warmed my heart and gave me hope.
You see, while she has a few friends at school, I don’t consider them the best types of friends. Although considered her bestie, one, in particular, is not the most supportive, often putting my daughter or her interests down and ignoring her to be on her own device when she comes over for a sleepover.
The reason I explain this is that context matters
Context is key to understanding someone’s mental state in time. We all know this; how many “Bell Let’s Talk” days have we been subjected to? (Don’t get me into the hypocrisy behind this particular company talking about mental health issues; I’ve chosen to separate the source from the message and appreciate the attempt to raise awareness).
The point is, it’s been an awful few months for us. My poor kiddo was sick repeatedly in the fall, and just when we thought she was out of the woods, BOOM, she got ill again within the first week back to school after the winter break.
That enough can be exhausting for single parents doing their best to work, care for their sick children, and attempt to care for themselves (I was sick too).
Add to this school avoidance, executive function issues out the wahoo, a ramping up of all sorts of sensitivities due to adolescence and hormones kicking in, multiple physical symptoms of anxiety that put my daughter in pain nearly 90% of the time, and of course, ever constant bullying and social isolation from so-called friends.
I did the best I could to support her
All through these issues, as I’ve done her entire life, I’ve done my best to “see” my daughter. My goal is to accept her differences, applaud her strengths, acknowledge her anxieties and give her strategies to help her cope with them. It’s not easy, and more often than not, I become her emotional trash can, where she spews out her anger, frustration or inability to control her environment at me.
When you deal with an hour of school avoidance behaviour, including begging, crying, screaming, slamming doors, self-harm, tummy aches, headaches, dizziness, aggression, insults, and yes, sometimes physical attacks on me (she doesn’t mean it, at the moment she doesn’t know how to find a suitable outlet for her frustration) ….it becomes traumatic, both for her and for me.
And before anyone offers help. Yes, I am connected to resources and have read many books on strategies to deal with these behaviours. But knowledge is one thing; living with it is something entirely different.
I now understand that many mothers of autistic children suffer from PTSD
I couldn’t figure out why I had been so sad and disaffected lately. Yes, it’s been difficult, but many good things have happened lately, too. I’ve been practicing my gratitude; I got a new, better-paying job and have multiple coping strategies at my fingertips.
But I’m fatigued all the time. I feel like I’m slipping into a depressive fog again where all I want to do is stay in bed where it’s warm, and I don’t have to deal with anything. I’m trying to find time to get out, even to just go for a walk, but between trying to balance my job with my child’s needs, sometimes it can be challenging to find the time for showering.
Then I started learning about something called hypervigilance. Basically, it’s the state of being ultra-alert, constantly assessing the environment for threats, even when there are none.
This should start to sound familiar to any mom out there who’s had a child get sick. It’s the feeling of sleeping with one eye and one ear open in case you have to run to the hospital.
For the moms of neurodivergent children, hypervigilance goes into overdrive. Anything and everything can be a trigger for a meltdown. What if her anxiety is so bad that she can’t last all day at school? Will I have to go pick her up? How do I make sure I’m available to do that?
She’s at a sleepover, but I know she won’t eat the food. She’s losing weight drastically, so I have to pack her a cooler of foods she’ll eat and follow up to ensure that’s been made accessible to her throughout the night.
She’s away for a class trip, the first one she went on without you (because you’re desperately trying to foster independence), but you get a call from the parent chaperone. You must listen to her hyperventilating and freaking out on the phone as they struggle to calm her down.
The list is long y’all, and if it’s hard for me, imagine how difficult these things are for my daughter. This permanent state of constantly assessing possible danger can lead to trauma responses similar to those in combat.
Of course, parental judgment comes into play too
Now factor in that we live with my parents (thank god, because I don’t know how we’d make it otherwise), and while they don’t help much with her actual childcare as they are older and she can be a lot to deal with, the financial support has meant the world to us.
This is why it’s so difficult when they, particularly my father, disagree with how I parent her or even acknowledge that her differences require different parenting techniques than neurotypical children.
There is judgment in some way or form every single day. (although I have to admit, my mom has come a long way in educating herself and acceptance!) Add to that the fact that I, myself, have never felt that I fit in with my family, and the psychological stress of attempting to be a positive emotional support for my daughter when she needs it often leaves me in a state of burnout.
I’m afraid to speak out about what happened to me yesterday since I know my parents will not back me up.
You see, the overarching narrative about me in my family is that I am “too”
Too much. Too sensitive. Too outspoken. Too blunt. Too soft. Too psychological. Too analytical. Too much of an activist. Too liberal. Too….too…too…
After a while, you believe that there is something wrong with you. And that adds to the endless pile of crap I have to wade through daily.
Finally, on to the main event
Now that you have the set-up of the scene and are aware that because of my circumstances, I was feeling exhausted and emotionally numb before even entering my local store, it might help to understand better.
I needed to buy a few grocery items, including lactose-free chocolate milk, and this store is one of the few places that carry this particular brand. (my kiddo will drink nothing else, of course)
I’ve grown up in the same village, and this store is a mainstay for the locals. My mother alone spends literally thousands yearly (she loves grocery shopping, it’s her happy place), and I even used to work there many years ago.
Of course, I can’t afford to shop there much for my larger shopping hauls, as it’s just too expensive, but it’s been drummed into my head by my parents that you need to support local businesses, and I feel I have to shop there because of this mantra.
Plus, everyone is super lovely, and the produce is excellent, so there’s that
So I quickly walked around the store, smiling at patrons, receiving smiles back, and lining up to pay at the checkout. I am always kind, saying my please, excuse me’s and thank-you’s to people when they move for me, letting people with less cut in front of me, and in general, trying to take up as little space as possible.
I could feel my anxiety build as I got up to the belt and started unloading my groceries. Like every other store, it is now our job to bag our own groceries, which I don’t mind; in fact, I enjoy piecing together groceries in their proper place; it’s like a game.
The problem is the time factor. I always feel rushed. No matter how fast I bag my groceries, the check-out person always waits for me to pay.
So then I’m thinking, do I pay first, then finish bagging? At Walmart, there are two areas to bag groceries per station, so even if I’m not done, there is still room for the next person to start.
But at our local store, there is zero room for anyone to start processing their order until you have entirely bagged and removed your groceries from the counter. So what often happens is you are left to furiously finish as the cashier tells you your total and stares at you expectantly – just waiting.
It is during this phase that my anxiety really ramps up. I can feel myself starting to sweat, knowing everyone is waiting for me. I try to go faster, but no matter how fast I go, I can’t bag in time for people NOT. TO. WAIT.
By now, my heart is pumping so furiously I feel like people should be able to see it pulsing from my chest, I am hyperventilating, and those steel bands clap around my chest – getting tighter and tighter. I feel like a cornered animal. I know this is me perceiving threats when there are none, aside from perhaps broken societal expectations, and I can usually deal with it.
Except for today.
Suddenly, the gentleman who is next in line walks up to where the debit machine is (where I have to go back to pay still) and flourishes his shopping bag open with a flick of his hand as if to say, “come on, let’s get this show on the road.”
Seriously, it’s like he was challenging me to a duel a la Princess Bride.
I haven’t even paid yet, I’m still doing my best to go fast, and of course, the young man at cash is just standing there, doing nothing to help, and eying me expectantly.
I’m so astonished at this level of passive-aggressiveness that I half-jokingly say, “geez, rush me, why don’t you.”
The customer thinks I’m joking, so he laughs. And I quickly finish and walk back to the POS to pay with my debit card.
He doesn’t move. He stands there, just off my left elbow, where he can see my debit information and within my personal space. I’m now full-on triggered.
I turn to him, put up both hands spread in front of me and say, in a loud and commanding voice, (I don’t think I shouted, but I was emphatic):
“Please, could you give me some personal space? I wasn’t kidding; I’m feeling very stressed and anxious right now.”
Stillness. It’s as if I’ve murdered someone. I am looked at like I’m the one with the issue.
He laughs, maintains his smile, and walks back to the end of the counter where his wife is waiting.
I finish my transaction, and as I grab my cart full of groceries and prepare to exit the store, I hear him say, “nope, I’d better wait so I don’t get in trouble.”
Then the cashier laughs with him and responds, “I think you’re safe now.” They both laugh again.
As I leave the store, over and over, I hear them mocking me as I try to control my tears.
I’m still struggling to process it all
When I got home, I knew I had to be alone to digest what had just happened and not worry about my kiddo seeing me like I was. I walked outside, careful to be out of view from any windows, and had a 45-minute panic attack, sobbing, hyperventilating, rocking, and all the other hallmarks of these oh-so-familiar events.
When I had pulled myself together and entered the adrenaline hang-over stage of the attack, I went back to the car and unpacked my groceries.
I couldn’t understand what I had done wrong.
I would never intrude on another person’s space like that or make them feel hurried or rushed. To me, that’s the ultimate unkindness.
I also felt I was within my right to ask for personal space to keep my banking information safe and to help me feel less threatened.
Could I have done it in a more pleasant tone of voice? Maybe. But I was in the grip of anxiety, which I did my best to explain.
And yet I was mocked for it. And the cashier joined in. Not one person in that store showed me kindness or empathy.
Would this have been different if I had not been a woman? I can’t help thinking that this was gaslighting behaviour at its best, telling me I was crazy because I voiced my distress and my limitations.
The parallels between so many other people dealing with mental illness are hard to ignore, as are the parallels between women standing up for themselves throughout history and being victimized because of it.
Either way, I’m now coming down from my fifth panic attack since it occurred. I’ve gone back and forth between calling the manager to complain or even posting on Facebook. But the problem is, it’s a small community, and I can tell you that if my parents found out, they would not support me in speaking up for myself.
And, of course, I would, MOST CERTAINLY, be labelled as difficult.
And that’s a shitty feeling. But what I can do, and do well, is write about my experience. I’ll do it anonymously if possible (cowardly, I know!), but I want to let anyone else know when and if they go through these experiences:
I SEE YOU. You aren’t alone. And no one has the right to make you feel crazy or less than for setting your limits. For being outspoken for yourself or others. For having an opinion that doesn’t fit within the status quo.
Well, what d’ya know…it worked! My heart rate is back to normal; my breathing has returned to shallow and (somewhat) even breaths.
Turns out blogging might be an excellent panic-attack strategy after all.
Have you ever experienced anything like this? Let me know in the comments, and share your story to help others!
Authors note: I wrote this piece in January 2017 after the controversy surrounding the judging of the women’s event at the 2017-2018 US National Figure Skating Championships. In light of Ashley Wagner’s bravery for coming forward with her allegations of sexual abuse, I thought it only appropriate to re-post.
At the time, I had planned on posting another article in my “Skating Club” series, however, two events had occurred the previous weekend and I course corrected.
Read on.
The first, was the women’s event at the US National Figure Skating Championships. The event was spectacular, and I watched from Starr Andrews’ unbelievable performance through to the last skater, (and gold medalist), Bradie Tennell. From one skater to the next, the momentum kept building, and the ladies did not disappoint. Ashley Wagner skated loose, and free and with passion; her LaLaLand program was a true thing of beauty and nuance. Then came Karen Chen, Mirai Nagasu and lastly Bradie. Each was equally exquisite in their own way, and when the smoke had cleared Ashley Wagner was left off the podium.
The stink of it was; Ashley Wagner made no secret that she
was unhappy with her marks. (surprise, surprise) From the moment she flashed
the stink eye in incredulity while viewing her final total in the kiss and cry,
to her statement about being “furious” that Tenell was marked higher than her
in the components scores, there was NO confusion as to her thoughts on her
placement.
As a national level coach, I spend a large portion of my time teaching my skaters how to not only win with dignity, but also lose gracefully. We spend hours framing loss as an opportunity for growth, and talking about how to purport ourselves when in the public eye. True sadness at a loss is understandable and honest, but attacking other skaters and judges, in my humble opinion, seems like sour grapes and the mark of being a sore loser. Or at least, I have always thought so.
After seeing this behaviour from Ashley Wagner Friday night,
and reading more and more quotes on twitter and in the newsfeed Saturday, I was
very mixed in my response to her behaviour.
On the one hand, as a former skater, and now a coach who has
been lucky enough to work with competitive athletes, I understand first hand
the absolute sacrifice required to make it to the level we see nationally and
internationally. It’s not just a few
sleepovers and school dances these skaters give up to get to where they are;
they give up their very identity.
From the time they are too young to write most of them are
getting up early and spending hours at the cold rink, falling over and over again,
showing courage and fortitude we don’t see in most adults. As they train, they put up with club politics,
coaching changes, constant criticism and financial hardships, often leaving
their home and giving up other things most children take for granted because
those extra dollars can help to pay for skating. These kids (and remember, they are kids) have
a level of dedication and commitment seen in very few.
So, when years and years and years
of sacrifice, training and sweat end up in a fourth-place finish there is no greater sting. Fourth place is the worst place to finish; “sooooo
close, but not quite good enough” it seems to tell you, as you sit and watch
the other three skaters receive their medals.
I empathize and understand Ashley Wagner’s outburst. Still, I thought, by speaking out, I had to
wonder if it tarnished the moment for the other three skaters, who had
sacrificed just as much, and had simply skated better. Surely, they too deserved their moment, free of
controversy and dissension. (for the record, I believe that Chen, Nagasu and
Tennell beat Wagner fair and square and absolutely deserve their marks and
their placement)
Then I watched the Golden Globes on Sunday night.
I have long believed that there is a war on women. It has
been waged on us since time immemorial; from the Salem Witch Trials, to the Suffragette
Movement, to the #MeToo Rebellion. I
have my own experiences of sexual assault, harassment and discrimination as a
young woman in high school, university and in the coaching world to draw from
to back up this claim. But my
experiences pale in comparison to the plight of women in countries like Saudi
Arabia, who to this day suffer unimaginable human rights violations, simply
because of their gender.
I can not tell you the strength, comfort and hope the MeToo and TimesUp initiative have given me. Just listening to real women and activists come forward with their stories, sharing what has happened to them, how they felt, and HOW THEY WERE SILENCED elicits the most liberating and empowering feelings. To know that I’m not alone, that people are ready to hear.
That CHANGE is possible.
And the recurring theme at those Golden Globes on Sunday night?
Speaking your truth.
SPEAKING UP.
Shedding those bonds of silence we are conditioned with as young girls; NOT to tattle, NOT to be loud, or obnoxious, and for God’s sake, don’t make waves!
So how can I find fault with Ashley Wagner for speaking up for herself when she felt an injustice had occurred? Rightly or wrongly, she became her own advocate. Ashley Wagner used her voice, and she used it loudly and proudly. As is her RIGHT. Whether or not you or I or anyone else agrees with it.
Perhaps if more of us spoke up without fear, change would
happen faster, and those of us with a uterus wouldn’t have to work twice as
hard to earn approximately only two thirds of what a man does for doing the
same job. Perhaps if I had spoken up sooner I would be making what I’m worth in
my coaching job instead of still living on the brink of poverty.
Perhaps if we spoke up the next man who feels he is entitled
to grab our breast in a crowded bar will think again.
Perhaps.
Either way, even though I may not agree with her, I support
Ashley Wagner in using her voice to protest.
We should all follow her example, to hell with the consequences.
When is the last time you spoke up? Share your stories in the comments!
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