Your Child is Not Broken: Parent Your Neurodivergent Child Without Losing Your Marbles

By Heidi Mavir

An updated edition of the Sunday Times bestseller.

Your Child Is Not Broken is THE book for parents who need permission to do things differently.

An unapologetic, deeply moving manual for parents of neurodivergent children from Heidi Mavir, a late-identified, neurodivergent adult and parent to an autistic/ADHD teenager.

This updated edition includes information on Pathological Demand Avoidance, Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria, an interview with Heidi's son Theo and more.

Follow Heidi's irreverent and brutally honest story of her fight to be seen, heard and supported, while swimming against a tide of parent blame, ableist stereotypes and the weight of other people’s opinions.

Your Child Is Not Broken is a call to arms for parents and carers of autistic, ADHD, or otherwise neurodivergent children. It is the book that no one has dared to write but every parent needs to read. Heidi’s hilarious anecdotes and heartbreaking storytelling offer validation, comfort, reassurance and wisdom to parents who need it the most.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pan Macmillan
• Release date: May 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9781035030989

Heidi Mavir

Heidi Mavir is a late-identified, neurodivergent adult. She is a public speaker, advocate, author of Your Child Is Not Broken, podcaster, and parent to an autistic/ADHD teenager. A trained Mental Health First Aider and CPD Accredited Trauma-Informed Professional, Heidi uses her knowledge, learning, and experience to help other parents and carers to become powerful advocates for their neurodivergent kids. She has built an online community of over 6000 families, supported by parent professionals and SEN advocates, who want to improve opportunities for autistic learners. Heidi has been featured in The Sunday Times, The Guardian , and BBC National News. She founded EOTAS MATTERS to support families like hers whose children and young people need education outside a school setting. Your Child is Not Broken is her moving manual for parents of neurodivergent children.

Book preview

Cover image: Your Child Is Not Broken by Heidi Mavir

Your Child Is Not Broken

Parent Your Neurodivergent Child

Without Losing Your Marbles

Heidi Mavir

Bluebird logo

For Theo – you’re my favourite.

Contents

Foreword

Preface

1. When the Wheels Came Off in School: Masking, Burnout, and School Refusal

2. Touching the Gate: Resilience, Behaviour Modification, and Prioritising Your Child’s Trust

3. Nothing Like Rain Man: The Danger of Stereotypes

4. Why Would You Want to Label Your Child?: The Diagnosis Dilemma

5. Discomfort is the Price of Admission to a Meaningful Life: Now That’s What I Call Ableist Gaslighting Volume 3

6. The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far From the Tree: The Domino Effect of Discovering My Child’s Neurodivergence

7. I Might Kill Myself: The Personal Cost of Keeping it All Together

8. Trauma and Stress Responses: A Whistlestop Tour of Polyvagal Theory

9. Community: An Antidote to Loneliness

10. Final Thoughts: Permission to Become THAT Parent

Afterword: What the Fig?

From the Horse’s Mouth: What Does Theo Have to Say About All This?

School Refusal: A Mother’s Experience of Parental Blame by Megan Robertson

Parental Blame and the Pathological Demand Avoidance Profile of Autism

House of Cards by Charlotte Gale

And Finally . . .

Footnotes

References

Helpful Links and Resources

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Foreword

Back in 2019, I recall being alerted to someone on social media sharing an image of themselves engaged in one of my online programmes, created specifically for parents to learn from an Autistic perspective about what autism actually is.

I saw the image of a woman sitting at a desk, watching me speak over a laptop, and I noticed instantly that she had guts. I started reading some of her content and watching her speak in small video clips and I learned more and more about just how determined she was.

That woman was Heidi.

Within a few weeks, we were chatting in an online meeting, where Heidi shared some really important information with me that – when taken into consideration when it comes to Autistic adults – was crucial as a collection of smaller pieces of a large picture called autism.

Lifelong mental health challenges, burnout and lingering fatigue, a child that could not attend school and was not supported in doing so by the very same institution they wanted to belong to. There were many other topics we discussed, and I don’t remember the entire conversation; but I know it was enough for me to recognise that Heidi was, and is, Autistic.

When an Autistic person says that we recognise another as Autistic, it isn’t disorder that we see. It’s a kinship. I hear the same language of heart, the stories of generational trauma, the outpouring of sadness of an experience of parenthood disconnected and completely disempowered by oppressive systems that operate within the bounds of shame and parental blame and gaslighting.

When I recognise an Autistic person, I recognise strength. I identify someone who has continued on, against all odds. I see and hear, I sense gentleness coupled with a no-bullshit approach to life.

I know I’ve found neurokindred.

The incredible amount of families that I have had the privilege and honour of being in community with have demonstrated that there are stories; many stories of generational trauma, of bloodlines having gone unidentified, contributing to other forms of existential terror such as addiction, eating disorders, family violence, and many other outcomes of our ancestors not knowing who they are.

We are alive during a time when there is incredible opportunity and momentum for our voices to be heard. And yet, here we are, shielding our children from the trauma that a basic education can result in.

I am in awe of those parents that I meet with often, who realise their own neurodivergence and move forward, carrying the torch of positive Autistic identity and culture.

As Autistic parents, we carry this message forth to help others discern between what has been termed as bad parenting, dysfunctional family life, and other ableist views, and the reality of our culture being different.

Different. Not dysfunctional.

A different way.

Of being, doing, living.

We seek to normalise our existence. Not disorders, not superheroes, just Autistic people.

This work we do is in order to save lives.

Thank you, Heidi, for carrying the torch.

Kristy Forbes, autism and neurodiversity specialist and Founding Director of InTune Pathways

Preface

I’m glad you’re here.

No, really. You are so welcome here.

I say that because – as the parent of a child who does life differently – I know what it’s like to feel unwelcome. Being a parent of a neurodivergent child (or children) can be incredibly isolating. That’s why I wrote this book: so that other parents might see they are not alone.

I also wrote this book because I feel like it’s time we get really bloody honest about the level of bullshit and fuckery we face as parents of neurodivergent kids. So, you’ll find here some no-nonsense, sometimes-sweary accounts of some of my experiences as a parent of a late-identified Autistic child. Warts and all. With rants aplenty and hopefully the occasional nugget of wisdom too.

Back in 2019, in the first few months of my getting to grips with the idea that my gloriously quirky but incredibly anxious teenager was an Autistic-as-Fuck-ADHD-er, I felt so alone. I was so confused. How could he be Autistic? He didn’t look Autistic. My son, Theo, was articulate and outgoing and made good eye contact. Theo was just like me – how could he be Autistic?

As I learned more about neurodivergence, the penny dropped: I had been fed a very narrow view of neurodivergence – autism in particular. I started to uncover answers. But every answer raised more questions and with every question, I felt more and more lost, alone, and confused. The overwhelm was palpable. There was so much information and so much of it was telling me that my child was broken. It was terrifying and heartbreaking and I was so desperate to find someone who understood and could help me make sense of it all.

So, I did what many parents do and I went to people whose job it was to support Neurodivergent kids and their families: education staff, autism experts, and medical professionals. Instead of finding the answers, I was told that the reason my child was so anxious was likely a combination of puberty and flawed parenting. I was told Yes, he MIGHT be Autistic but until we had a formal diagnosis (the wait for which was at least two years in our area), I shouldn’t label him. Rather, the advice was that I needed to show him I wouldn’t be manipulated. Make sure he knew who was the boss.

An education professional who I (wrongly) assumed was an expert told me that the reason my son didn’t want to go to school was that he knew I was a soft touch. She told me I needed to put my foot down. A CAMHS worker told me that when it came to his anxiety, we needed to teach him to try harder in the face of adversity. More professionals than I can count told me that Theo needed to build resilience. I was told that he needed to learn not to interrupt, not to ask so many questions, and not to be so sensitive. I was warned that he was making himself an obvious choice for bullies: Theo needed to try harder to fit in and not draw attention to himself.

I was told that my child was broken.

The narrative that accompanied that assertion was that it was almost certainly my fault that my gloriously-Neurodivergent child was struggling.

I now know how ableist, misinformed and harmful that advice was.

This book is the book I needed in those early days – the days when our family was in crisis; when my son’s anxiety made him so unwell he couldn’t go to school; when I had no idea what sensory needs or emotional regulation or trauma profiles were; when I was blissfully unaware of the damage caused by pervasive stereotypes around neurodivergence; when I was drowning under the weight of well-meaning but incredibly unhelpful advice from professionals who I believed knew what was best for our family; when my only point of reference for autism was Dustin Hoffman’s performance in Rain Man. When I had no idea that I too was Autistic!

I hope you find peace and comfort in these pages. I hope you feel seen. Maybe you’ll also pick up some tips or gain confidence in your own abilities. Most of all, I hope you’ll see in the pages of this book evidence that your child is not broken.

So, come on in. Pull up a chair (or a beanbag . . . or sit on the windowsill . . . or have a bounce on that yoga ball over there . . . or just stand and jiggle about). Hell, take off your bra if you like (assuming you are a bra wearer*)! Take as much or