Acceptance Isn’t Giving Up, It’s Finally Showing Up

Liz Lee
7 days ago
4 min read

There’s a quiet pressure that follows a lot of neurodivergent kids and adults: try harder, be more normal, blend in. It sounds helpful. It isn’t.

I stopped treating my child like a problem to solve, and started treating them like a person to understand.

The message hiding underneath “Try harder”

A lot of neurodivergent kids grow up hearing the same message in a thousand different ways: try harder, act normal, be quiet, don’t stand out. Sometimes it’s said with love. Sometimes it’s said with frustration. Either way, it lands the same.

It teaches a child that who they are right now isn’t enough.

Acceptance pushes back on that. Not in a hands-off way. In a grounded, practical way.

Acceptance is the moment you stop trying to erase a person’s neurology in order to make everyone else more comfortable.

What acceptance actually means

People get this wrong all the time, so let’s be clear.

Acceptance is not lowering expectations. It is not ignoring challenges. It is not saying “this is just how it is” and walking away.

Acceptance is believing your child is whole already. It’s supporting growth without shame. It’s changing the environments, before demanding kids change themselves. It’s recognizing that sensory needs, stimming, communication differences, deep emotions, intense focus, and unconventional learning styles are not flaws.

They’re signals. They’re regulation. They’re a nervous system processing the world differently.

Why “fixing” hurts

Female figure, crouching on the floor, head on knees.

Many neurodivergent adults grew up learning that love felt conditional. I did.

Love came when you were quiet. When you masked. When you were “easy.” That kind of childhood teaches a kid how to survive, not how to belong. When we focus only on stopping behaviours instead of understanding them, the message sounds like this: your feelings are too much, your needs are inconvenient, your way of existing is a problem.

Over time, that doesn’t build skills. It builds fear.

Fear of being seen. Fear of making mistakes. Fear of taking up space.

And that fear can grow into anxiety, burnout, and a shaky sense of identity that follows them for years.

What supportive acceptance looks like in real life

This is where acceptance becomes real. It’s not a belief. It’s a set of daily choices.

At home

Let your child stim, pace, hum, fidget. If it isn’t harmful, it’s regulation, not misbehaviour.
Validate feelings before problem-solving. Start with: “That was really hard.” That one sentence can change the whole tone of the moment.
Build routines with your child instead of for them. Ask what part is hardest, then design the routine around that bottleneck.
Lower the conflict, not the expectations. Less nagging, more structure. Less talking, more visuals. Less power struggle, more predictability.
And sometimes, just listen. No fixing. No lesson. Just you being safe to be with.

At school

Advocate for supports that reduce the brains cognitive load: flexible seating, movement breaks, sensory tools, written instructions, alternative ways to show learning, and extra processing time.
Ask this before any behaviour plan (or IEP): what is this behaviour communicating?
Not “How do we stop it?” Try: what demand is too high right now, what skill is missing, or what sensory factor is frying their nervous system.
Insist on supports that protect dignity. A break plan that doesn’t shame them. A reset option that doesn’t require a meltdown first. A way to ask for help that doesn’t feel like a spotlight.

In the community

Normalize headphones in public. Normalize sunglasses. Normalize leaving early.
Stop commenting on “good” versus “bad.” Focus on needs being met.
Teach siblings, grandparents, coaches, and friends that difference isn’t deficiency. Support is not spoiling. Accommodation is not lowering standards.

Shift the goal

The goal isn’t independence at all costs. The goal isn’t compliance. The goal isn’t making neurodivergent people look neurotypical.
The goal is safety, dignity, and belonging.
When a child feels accepted, their nervous system softens. When their nervous system softens, learning and growth become possible.
That’s when real skills stick. Not because they were forced. Because they were safe enough to try.

The goal isn’t compliance. The goal is safety, dignity, and belonging.

A reminder for parents

You are not failing your child by accepting them as they are.

You are protecting their identity. You are building their self-worth.

Try this today

Pick one recurring meltdown or conflict.
Replace your first sentence with validation: “That was really hard.”
Change one environmental factor before you ask for behaviour change (noise, time pressure, transitions, unclear steps, hunger, fatigue, social demand).
Notice what shifts when your child feels safe first.

If you’re supporting a neurodivergent child and you want practical tools that protect dignity and build real independence, follow along. I share strategies you can actually use at home and at school.