Parenting is tough.
Parenting an autistic child who cannot express themselves is an order of magnitude tougher.
And there is no book or guide to walk you through this parenting journey, despite all the books on the subject. Because each parent’s journey is unique, whether their child is autistic or neurotypical.
My journey till now has been filled with terror, grief, joy (yes, joy), and tenderness. I don’t expect any of this to change in the future.
When Krishna, my 10-year-old nonspeaking autistic son, screams in pain and has a meltdown, I sometimes feel like a deer caught in headlights. Run? Where?
And it’s okay to feel that way. Yes, there is this child literally writhing in pain and screaming, and you want to run away from the situation. It happens when you’ve played the guessing game for years, the responsibility is all yours, and yet you haven’t found a solution—despite modern medical science.
Dear parents of autistic children, let me share what I’ve learnt till now on this terrible, wonderful journey.
It’s okay to feel despair, terror, hopelessness, and all sorts of other emotions.
But you have to set all of these aside for the moment to be level-headed for your child. Tide over the crisis.
And then take a moment for yourself before the next one comes.
That moment can be just sitting still, breathing.
In.
Out, out, out…
Repeat.
It could be watching the world hurry by. It could be watching a movie, reading a book, cooking, going for a walk…
It could be listening to the rare notes of the raga Kapi carried by a breeze laden with sweet wood smoke, and wondering at the loudspeaker miles away playing classical music.
It could be talking to friends or even random strangers who turn out to be not so random…
But do take that moment out for yourself, to be yourself.
You cannot be the parent your child needs you to be if you lose yourself.
A note to parents
If you find yourself feeling stretched, tired, unsure, or overwhelmed at times, know that it is not a reflection of your ability.
It is a reflection of the weight you are carrying.
And it is okay to acknowledge that.
What I hope you take away
Parenting is tough.
And parenting a child with additional needs brings with it layers that are not always visible, not always understood, and not always acknowledged.
But within those layers, there is also something else.
A relationship that evolves.
A way of understanding that deepens.
A resilience that is not loud—but is built quietly, over time.
And perhaps that is what sustains us.
Not the idea of being strong all the time.
But the ability to keep showing up.
