I Didn't See You There {Book Review}

I Didn't See You There is a new book that takes a deep look at emotions involved in the complex world of neurodivergent parenting. It's a collection of poems interspersed with anecdotes from family life; thoughts and feelings and snippets of the types of conversation that occur in households with neurodivergent children.

(*Some of the underlined text and the pictures in this post are affiliate links; as an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases but it won't cost you any extra)

The author is a self-identified neurodivergent mother of two neurodivergent teens, sharing her personal parenting journey and professional experience as a SEN Teaching Assistant. The poems and anecdotes reach across many aspects of daily life, exploring both highs and lows, moments of happiness and times of extreme pressure.

There are so many great poems in this book that I'd love to share with you; I've picked this one below as an example because I am sure it will resonate with lots of parents like me whose children do not have a smooth path through the education system. This one is called 'And so it begins'.

And so, it begins…

Back to school

We watch as the familiar feeling of dread develops us. We watch as our children’s sparkle, the glimmer of light, dulls just a little more each day. We watch the billboard Ads and uniform posts and see the frantic mothers dashing to the shoe store… the stationery store. Their biggest worry that their child will not have the right attire. We watch, knowing that this is where it all begins again…

We listen, we listen to the mothers, telling tales of sun-kissed summer adventures. Of sandcastles, seasides and smiles. We listen to the voices laced with giddy excitement… the children keen to see their friends, the parents 'exhausted' from uploading another photo montage of their happy, smiling insta-perfect family… congratulating each other on 'surviving summer' with the kids. We listen with envy as they share the chores they’ll be heading home to… washing out sand buckets and tidying away the treasures their children collected on their many adventures. We listen to the sigh of relief as 'back to school day' approaches…they’ll post their picture perfect uniform snap.

We hide, hide behind smiles and the well rehearsed facade we have cultivated over years of struggle and strength. Smiling, as mothers discuss the shiny pencil case ( we have one of those) or correct gym kit...or how glad they are to wave off their children at last, safe in the knowledge that they'll have a great day, a safe day.

We hide from our heartbreak, to feel it would make it impossible to hold on. And we have to hold on.

We hold on as we are the safe space, we are the watchers. We look, look for the glimmers of light inperceptible to others. In the absence of summer fun days we look for the little moments we have come to treasure. A brief smile, ten minutes in the garden, a meltdown free morning...these are our 'insta' moments, our reasons to smile. Will we lose that glimmer as the 'back to school' anxiety hits home? 

So we plan, plan and prepare. We steal ourselves for battle....and despite all the previous failings we hope, we hope this year will be different. We hope that this year our children will do more than simply survive. We hope and we email... CAMHS, school, attendance officer, GP....we call, we ask. 

We ask that they support our children. Support our children as they go 'back to school' with accommodations, with care, understanding and with kindness. 

We ask for kindness. We ask for kindness. 

And as the day draws near we navigate the insomnia of our children, bourne from anxiety...we cradle them in the aftermath of another ferocious meltdown and we reassure them with all the belief we can muster, that this year will be different. We remove labels from clothes, we rewash uniform to ensure it smells 'right' and we talk through visuals of our morning routine. We have breakfast menus A, B and C all at the ready and alternative outfits washed and waiting in the wings. Like a well staged production, choreographed to pack in all the 'feel good' we can...before school. We play their favourite songs and drive their preferred route. We do all we can, knowing that it'll never be fool-proof but it might just be enough today. On Back-to-school day. 

And suddenly (we didn't see it coming) we crumble. Overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions that swell from our very stomachs and catch in our throats. 

Relief..we did it, they went Back to school..theyre walking away.. 

But did we do the right thing? Will their sparkle survive another day or be extinguished by lunchtime ?

Fear....will they be ok? Will they be alone, lonely? Treated with compassion? Do the staff understand co regulation? They can't do it alone yet...will they know when they are simmering?

Admiration, pride and awe...the bravery and guts they have astounds us. They are the warriors...

Dread, dread of the after school collapse.  We are already anticipating the impact of 6 hours of masking, peopling and expectations. Armour at the ready..

And sometimes, some days... Simply acceptance laced with sadness....ours didnt make it 'Back to school' and that's ok, it'll be ok. They weren't ready today. Today we will nurture the glimmer of light. And try again. Or try something else, somewhere else. 

The shiny pencil case, the SENDCo calls, the insta perfect posts, the label-less clothing...

And so it begins.

The poems shine a light on situations that many families with neurodivergent children will experience. More than that, they give a window into the intense emotions that the battles with the system can often evoke in parents. They convey the pain and grief caused by others but also share positive aspects of the journey and of new beginnings. There's mention of OCD and self-harm, difficulties with relationships and mental health crisis. Charlotte's words are poignant; full of emotion and very relatable. They will help other parents feel seen and will hopefully provide some support and healing for those who need to carry on when times are (sometimes almost unimaginably) tough. 

Here's the beginning of another piece, called Friends with a twist:

The last few years have taught me a great deal about friendship and connection.
It has taught me that the length of time you have known someone has no bearing on the deep connection you can share through common lived experience or through genuine love and acceptance.
Because this life we lead is not the norm, and those that would join us on this journey are a special few.

You thought you knew?

But our challenges are a world apart. So, if you are a friend in this strange reality, the chances are you either share our story or you are a rare breed of human, able to offer support and kindness without judgement or demand.
You may not 'get it' but you'll still hold a hand.
Because this life we lead is not the norm.

Whilst the anecdotes and conversations are personal reflections of what happened in the author's home, I think many in the PDA community will relate to the kind of language noted. The anecdotes may even prompt memories of similar instances in other homes. Here is one example to give you a flavour:

When Monday sees your child's online science tutor valiantly teaching the structure of the cell, whilst your child sporadically does laps of the room on a Segway with Tics in full flow, shouting "you love to shag sheep!"

Or, my personal favourite...

"Stick a carrot up my a#$e and call me Susan!" EOTAS is never dull.

I can't sum this book up any better than the final paragraph on the back cover: "Perfect for parents, caregivers, educators, and anyone touched by the neurodivergent experience, this book is a celebration of difference and the strength found in supporting one another through life's most profound challenges."

Out now, available via Amazon: I Didn't See You There