Are we helping neurodivergent children cope, or helping them discover who they are?
How much time do we spend teaching neurodivergent children strategies to help them cope with everyday life?
Emotional regulation, executive functioning, managing anxiety, friendships, school, transitions. The list goes on.
All important things, and things I work on with young people myself.
But I wonder how much time we give to helping them understand who they actually are.
I work with young people who can tell me everything they struggle with. They know what they find difficult, what they're supposed to be working on and often what other people would like them to do differently.
Yet when we start exploring what they enjoy, what matters to them, what they need or what feels right for them, it's sometimes much harder.
And I find that really interesting. Because somewhere in all those years of being supported, corrected, encouraged, reminded and sometimes misunderstood, they've been developing a picture of themselves. What does that picture look like?
If you've spent years hearing that you're too sensitive, too emotional, too distracted, that you need to try harder or learn to manage yourself better, what do you start believing?
How much of your identity becomes wrapped up in the things you find difficult?
And how much space have you had to discover everything else about yourself?
What happens during the teenage years?
Adolescence is such an important time for exploring identity.
Trying different things, developing interests, experimenting with how you present yourself, discovering your values, finding your people. Sometimes loving something one month and wanting nothing to do with it the next.
That's part of growing up. But I see how difficult this can become for young people who are already used to looking outside themselves for reassurance.
What if you've played football for years and suddenly don't enjoy it anymore?
What if your parents have spent hundreds of pounds on lessons or equipment, or given up their weekends taking you somewhere?
What if everyone thinks you're brilliant at something, but you don't actually want to do it?
Can you say that?
Or do you carry on because you feel guilty, because you don't want to disappoint anyone, because everyone else seems to know what's best for you?
And when you're already masking or trying hard to fit in, it can become even harder to work out which decisions are yours and which ones you're making to keep other people happy.
Knowing yourself goes beyond knowing your diagnosis
I think we can sometimes mistake knowing about autism or ADHD for understanding ourselves.
A young person might know they have sensory differences, executive functioning difficulties or experience anxiety.
But do they know how those things actually feel for them?
Can they recognise the early signs of overwhelm in their body? Do they know what environments help them feel comfortable? What happens when they're around people they feel safe with compared with people they feel they need to perform for?
Do they know what joy feels like in their body? What genuine interest feels like? What it feels like to say yes to something they really want, or no to something that doesn't feel right?
These are things I often explore through somatic work, slowing things down and becoming curious about what happens in the body as we talk.
Sometimes a young person can tell me what they think they should want, but when we explore how it feels, there's a very different story.
And I think that's important.
Because we can teach someone strategies to manage anxiety, but if they still believe they're difficult or too much, what happens to that belief?
We can help them become more organised, but what happens when their energy drops and they can't keep it going?
We can teach social strategies, but are we also helping them recognise which relationships allow them to be themselves?
What are we making space for?
I would love to see more opportunities for young people to explore who they are without feeling there's something they need to get right.
To change their minds, try something new, stop doing something they've outgrown.
To understand their needs without feeling ashamed of them.
To recognise their strengths, interests, values and the things that bring them joy.
And to begin trusting themselves.
Of course, practical strategies matter. So do accommodations, supportive environments and adults who understand neurodivergence.
But I think we also need to look at the messages children are taking away from the support we offer.
Are we helping them understand themselves, or are they learning that they need to keep working on themselves to be acceptable?
Because I don't want the young people I work with to grow into adults who are brilliant at coping but have no idea who they are underneath it all.
I'd love them to grow up knowing that their needs matter, thaClick Met they're allowed to be different, that they're allowed to change and that they can trust themselves.
I wonder how many of us, particularly those of us who discovered our own neurodivergence later in life, are still trying to learn those very things.
If you're supporting a young person who is finding it difficult to understand themselves, their emotions or their place in the world, this is something we can explore together.
At Heart in Mind, I work with neurodivergent children, teenagers and families, helping them develop a greater understanding of their needs, their bodies and who they are.
You're welcome to get in touch to find out more about how I work.
Jolene Ironside | Heart in Mind
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