ND Inclusion Foundations

I’d like to talk about something that doesn’t get nearly enough consideration:

And that is neurodivergent inclusion.

(And going forward, I’m going refer to neurodivergent as “ND” because I get tongue tied easily LOL)

At its core, ND inclusion means just this:

Different brains deserve the same dignity.

Full stop.

Kids experience the world in all kinds of ways.

Some need movement.

Some need quiet.

Some need repetition.

Some need more time to think before they speak.

Some feel emotions louder.

Some experience sensory input bigger.

Like everything is turned up to eleven while also in the upside-down.

Those aren’t flaws.

They’re differences.

And “difference” is not a problem to solve.

But a lot of us were raised in systems that treated difference as something to be fixed instead of understood.

For example:

“Be still!”

“Look at me.”

“Lower your voice.”

“Hurry up!”

Most likely said with increasing volume, for reasons that never helped.

But here, in this space, we’re learning something better:

Inclusion isn’t about forcing kids to fit the environment.

It’s about shaping the environment to fit the kids.

Which honestly feels obvious once you say it out loud.

Let me tell you about a day when this really clicked for me.

My youngest came home from after-school care once - they were about seven or eight - just completely wrecked.

Not hungry.

Not up for cartoons.

Not able to nap.

Just … done.

To be honest, even THEY didn’t know what they needed.

And neither did I at first.

So I stopped trying to figure out the words,

and instead asked myself:

“What would I want on a day like that?”

A lavender bath.

A candle.

A comfort show.

An eye mask.

Zero follow-up questions.

So that’s what I did.

I didn’t lecture.

And I didn’t talk.

I just ran the bath, added lavender essential oils, lit a candle far away from the tub, set up an iPad, handed them the eye mask, and I said:

“Get in and chill for a bit. I’ll make you chicken tenders when you’re ready to come out.”

Which, frankly, is a compelling offer for both a 7-year-old and a 42-year-old.

And I swear, our lives changed that day.

My kid was SO HAPPY.

They came down from whatever had them clawing the ceiling like a cat.

My shoulders dropped out of my ears and I felt the nervous system relief

IMMEDIATELY.

Even my husband looked at me and said:

“I can’t believe that worked.”

Same, babe.

But in looking back, what worked wasn’t magic.

It was meeting a nervous system where it was, not where *I* wanted it to be.

And certainly not where the schedule said it should be.

That’s ND inclusion.

It’s supporting regulation before expecting communication.

Always in that order.

And this matters for all kids, but especially for kids who live at the intersection of neurodivergence and LGBTQ identity.

Because so many queer kids are already navigating a world that feels loud, confusing, and unsafe.

And layering misunderstanding on top of that helps absolutely no one.

ND inclusion teaches them:

You’re not broken.

You’re not too much.

And you don’t have to change who you are to deserve care.

You already qualify.

And it teaches us as parents:

The world isn’t always gentle

or understanding,

so home has to be the place

where our kids build their strength

SAFELY.

Because when kids feel understood, they feel safer.

And when they feel safer, they grow stronger - exactly as they are.

Not who we wish they were.

That’s all for now.

And don’t forget to take good care of yourself today.