The Day I Realized I’d Been Searching for the Wrong Kind of Help

Let me be honest about something: I thought an autism diagnosis would come with a roadmap.

Like, here’s the diagnosis, here are the next steps, follow this path, and everything will be okay.

Spoiler alert: That’s not how it works.

Instead, it felt like being dropped in the middle of a forest with no map, no compass, and everyone around you speaking a language you don’t understand.

IEPs. Sensory diets. ABA. OT. Speech therapy. Social skills groups. Developmental milestones. Red flags. Early intervention.

The terminology alone was overwhelming. And underneath all of it was this constant, gnawing fear:

Am I doing this right? Am I doing enough? Am I somehow making it worse?

The Moment That Changed Everything

Adrián was 6. We were sitting with luis listing all the things he “couldn’t” do.

Can’t maintain eye contact.
Can’t handle transitions.
Can’t regulate his emotions.
Can’t, can’t, can’t.

I felt myself shrinking with every word. Like my beautiful, curious, creative son was being reduced to a list of deficits.

Then Luis, my rock, my partner who always sees things more clearly than I do, spoke up:

“Can we talk about what he can do? Because Adrián can name every Train Station in Spain in chronological order. He can draw the most intricate Road structures I’ve ever seen. He can tell you exactly how he’s feeling when he has the right words. He can do so many incredible things.”

Then we actually smiled.

“You’re right,” I said. “Let’s start there.”

That was the day we stopped focusing on fixing Adrián and started focusing on supporting him to be the best version of himself.

What “Support” Actually Looks Like (Hint: It’s Not What I Thought)

I used to think supporting Adrián meant making him more “typical.”

Helping him make eye contact. Teaching him to sit still. Getting him to stop stimming. Making him fit in.

God, I cringe thinking about that now.

Because here’s what I’ve learned: support doesn’t mean changing who your child is. It means giving them tools to navigate a world that wasn’t designed for them.

The Visual Schedules That Saved Our Mornings

Mornings used to be chaos. Pure, tear-filled chaos.

Adrián would melt down almost every school morning because he couldn’t predict what was coming next. The uncertainty felt overwhelming.

Then our OT suggested visual schedules. Simple picture cards showing the morning routine:

1. Wake up
2. Get dressed
3. Eat breakfast
4. Brush teeth
5. Put on backpack
6. Get in car

Game. Changer.

Suddenly, Adrián could see what was coming. He could prepare himself. The meltdowns didn’t disappear completely, but they decreased dramatically. We are using this more and more with Guillermo and he loves this!

It wasn’t about changing him. It was about giving him a tool to manage something that was genuinely hard for his brain.

The Sensory Tools That Made Public Spaces Bearable

For years, we avoided places that were too loud, too bright, too crowded. Which meant we avoided a lot of life. Adrián did not mind the loud noises but he disliked crowded places, so we avoided them as much as we could.

Guillermo has a hard time with noises and when we discovered noise-canceling headphones.

Such a simple thing. But it transformed Guillermos experience of the world.

Suddenly, he could go to school assemblies. Birthday parties. Family gatherings. The grocery store didn’t trigger immediate meltdowns.

By boys are still autistic. They will still processed sensory input differently. But now we had a tool that helped Guillermo manage Loud noises, and we know to avoid crowded places for Adri to stay regulated.

That’s support. Not changing who they are, but equipping them to participate in life on their own terms.

The Social Stories That Built Understanding

Adrián struggles with understanding unspoken social rules. Things neurotypical kids just… absorb? He needs them explained explicitly.

So we started using social stories, simple narratives that walk through social situations step by step.

“When we go to Grandma’s house, she might want to hug you. You can say ‘I’d rather do a high-five’ if hugs feel uncomfortable. That’s okay.”

“At the park, if you want to play with someone, you can say ‘Can I play too?’ They might say yes, or they might say no. Both answers are okay.”

These stories gave Adrián a framework for navigating social situations that felt confusing and unpredictable.

Again, not changing him. Giving him tools.

The Community That Became My Lifeline

Here’s something they don’t tell you about autism parenting: the isolation is crushing.

Even when you’re surrounded by people who love you, you can feel completely alone. Because they don’t get it.

They don’t understand why you can’t just “make” your child behave.
They don’t get why a birthday party feels like a military operation requiring days of preparation.
They don’t know what it’s like to celebrate victories like “He wore jeans today!” while other parents are celebrating scholarships and sports trophies.

I needed people who got it. And I found them online.

The Facebook Group That Saved My Sanity

I joined an autism parenting group when Adrián was 5, mostly just to lurk. I wasn’t ready to share my story yet.

But reading other parents’ posts? Life-changing.

“My son had a meltdown at Target today and I sat on the floor with him while people stared. I’m exhausted but I know I did the right thing.”

“Small victory: She tried a new food today! Just a tiny bite, but I’m counting it as a win.”

“Does anyone else’s kid line up all their toys in perfect rows? Is this normal?”

Reading these posts, I realized: I’m not alone. Other people understand. This is hard, but it’s not just hard for me.

Eventually, I started commenting. Then posting. Then forming real friendships with parents across the country who “got it” in a way my IRL friends couldn’t.

That community became my lifeline.

The Autistic Adults Who Taught Me Everything

But here’s the thing: parent groups are crucial, but they’re not enough.

The people who taught me the MOST about autism? Autistic adults.

Following actually autistic people on social media opened my eyes in ways no parenting book ever could.

They explained what stimming feels like from the inside.
They described why eye contact is uncomfortable.
They shared what masking costs them.
They talked about what they wish their parents had understood.

Listening to autistic voices transformed how I parent.

And here’s a full-circle moment: years later, I discovered I’m autistic too. Late-diagnosed at 39, after my boys’ diagnoses prompted me to recognize myself in their experiences.

Suddenly, so much of my own childhood made sense. The overwhelm. The masking. The feeling of being different but not knowing why.

Understanding my own autism made me a better parent to my autistic kids.

The Strategies That Actually Work in Real Life

Okay, let’s get practical. Because understanding and community are crucial, but you also need tools for the day-to-day.

Emotion Regulation Tools

Both Adrián and Guillermo struggle with big emotions. When they’re upset, they can’t just “calm down” on command.

What helps:

Visual emotion charts – Pictures showing different feelings. Both boys can point to how they’re feeling when words are too hard.

Calm-down corner – A designated space with dim lighting, soft textures, weighted blankets, and favorite comfort items. No punishment, just a safe place to regulate.

Breathing exercises – We practice these when they’re calm, so the technique is familiar when they need it. Deep breath in for 4, hold for 4, out for 6.

Sensory tools – Fidget toys, chewable necklaces, therapy putty. Different kids need different input.

Building Independence Through Choice

Autistic kids often feel like life happens to them, they have little control over their days, their schedules, their experiences.

Giving choices: even small ones, builds confidence and autonomy.

“Do you want to wear the blue shirt or the red shirt?”
“Should we read two books or three books tonight?”
“Do you want a snack now or after your shower?”

These aren’t big decisions. But they give Adrián and Guille practice in self-advocacy and decision-making.

Celebrating Progress, Not Perfection

This one is hard for me. I’m a perfectionist by nature, and I had to actively retrain my brain to celebrate small victories.

Adrián tried a new food? WIN.
Guille used words instead of screaming when he was frustrated? WIN.
We made it through a family gathering without a meltdown? HUGE WIN.

I keep a “wins journal” where I write down these moments. On hard days, I flip through it to remind myself: we are making progress. It just looks different than I expected.

The Books That Became Tools, Not Just Stories

When Adrián was struggling with confidence, feeling different, wondering if anyone else felt like him, I searched desperately for books where he could see himself.

Books that didn’t treat autism like a tragedy. Books that celebrated neurodiversity. Books written by people who actually understood.

We did find some good ones but not as many options as other children’s book. So Luis and I created them.

Autism: Confidence Starts Here was born from watching Adrián struggle with self-esteem. From hearing him say “Why am I different?” and wanting to show him that different is beautiful.

Autism: Calming the Chaos came from our meltdown struggles. From wanting to help Adrián understand what was happening in his body, and help other families respond with compassion instead of punishment.

Autism: My Invisible Backpack addresses masking and emotional overload, things I didn’t even have language for until my own diagnosis.

These aren’t just books we wrote. They’re tools our family uses. Adrián rereads them when he’s struggling. They’re conversation starters. They’re validation.

That’s what I was searching for all those years ago. Stories that understood.

What I Wish Someone Had Told Me

If I could go back and talk to myself the day Adrián was diagnosed, here’s what I’d say:

1. The grief is real, and it’s okay.

You’re allowed to grieve the future you imagined. That doesn’t mean you don’t love your child. It means you’re human.

2. Your child is not broken.

They don’t need to be fixed. They need to be understood, supported, and celebrated for exactly who they are.

3. You will make mistakes.

You’ll say the wrong thing. Use outdated terminology. Push when you should have pulled back. It’s okay. Learn and adjust.

4. Find your people.

The parents who get it. The autistic adults who can teach you. The therapists who see your child as whole. Build that community intentionally.

5. Trust your instincts.

You know your child better than any expert. If something doesn’t feel right, speak up. Advocate. Push back.

6. Celebrate differently.

Your milestones might not match other families’. That’s okay. Every step forward, no matter how small, deserves celebration.

7. Take care of yourself.

You can’t support your child from a place of depletion. Rest. Ask for help. Let some things go.

8. It gets easier.

Not because autism goes away, but because you learn. Your child learns. You develop systems. You find your rhythm.

9. Your child is amazing.

Not despite being autistic. Not even because of it. Just… inherently, wonderfully, perfectly amazing as they are.

The Journey Continues

Adrián is 11 now. Guillermo is 5. Our journey is far from over, it’s really just beginning in so many ways.

But we’re not where we were six years ago, drowning in confusion and fear.

Now we have tools. Community. Understanding. Hope.

We know Adrián’s triggers and how to support him through overwhelm.
We’ve built routines that work for our family’s unique needs.
We’ve connected with other families who get it.
We’ve learned to celebrate our wins… even the tiny ones.

And most importantly: we’ve learned to see autism not as something to overcome, but as a different way of being that deserves respect, support, and celebration.

Resources for Your Journey

If you’re looking for support on your autism parenting journey, here’s what has genuinely helped our family:

We’ve created FREE downloadable resources including:

• Visual schedule templates
• Emotion regulation tools
• Social story frameworks
• Sensory profile worksheets

You’re on that journey too. And you don’t have to walk it alone.

With solidarity and hope,
Dalisse (& Luis)
Loving Pieces Books

💙 What’s been your biggest “aha” moment on your autism parenting journey? What do you wish you’d known sooner? Share with our community, we’re all learning together. Find us on Instagram @lovingpiecesbooks or explore more resources at lovingpiecesbooks.com.