PARENTING

My Daughter Isn’t Broken

Letting go of my fear and learning to see her clearly

Image by Leah Newhouse on Pexels

I didn’t realize I was raising a neurodivergent child until I tried to fix her.

For the first time in years, I saw the light within her flicker back to life.

There was a subtle intake of breath. A softening of her whole expression. She leaned in, fully present, listening to the kind, gentle voice of a kindred spirit who was speaking about things she loves — wildlife, birds, caring for the natural world. In that moment, something dormant inside her began to wake up.

The volunteer coordinator was describing opportunities — monitoring kestrels, bluebird nests, feeding orphaned chimney swifts, and monitoring a colony of eastern purple martins, which were situated beside a pond on hundreds of acres of protected land. Every word seemed to breathe new life into her.

I watched in awe as she smiled, answered questions with confidence, and made her own choices. Not once did she glance at me for guidance. She spoke for herself. She chose what she wanted.

And I was stunned.

Because this wasn’t the girl everyone had been describing for the past six years with words like fearful, anxious, depressed, and socially awkward.