Annie Ridout on Raising Neurodivergence

This prolific journalist, author and poet is using her platform to bring neurodivergent families – their struggles and triumphs – into the light.

Content is Annie Ridout’s thing. A freelance journalist for over 15 years, she’s written for a lengthy list of mastheads – the Guardian, the Observer, Forbes and Grazia, to name a few – and is the bestselling author and ghostwriter of several books.

Annie also shares poetry on social media, where she’s gained a large following of fans and fellow caregivers who find comfort and camaraderie through her work. She recently posted a poem that was met with a resounding ‘I needed this today’ from her community. It began with:

“If you are deep in the darkness with a neurodivergent child who finds school unbearable (the darkness being their sadness, their panic, their fear, lack of support, others judging) know this: your child can feel your eyes on them. They can feel your love.”

Living in north London with her husband and their three kids – her 10-year-old daughter and her boys, who are seven and five – Annie entered the neurodivergent space by way of her eldest, autistic son. Her Substack platform, Raising Neurodivergence, shares voices from parents and advocates who, like Annie, are battling systemic barriers.

School, in particular, has been challenging for Annie’s family and she’s working to make change here. “I’m learning about new ways to educate through people like the late Ken Robinson and his daughter, Kate Robinson,” says Annie, who also laps up everything by fellow author Eliza Fricker and clinical psychologists Dr Naomi Fisher and Dr Emma Svanberg.

“Some of the younger autistic women on Instagram are great – Ellie Midds, Neurodivergent Lou – and I loved Pierre Novellies’s memoir,” she says. “I feel excited about the possibilities, with self-directed learning and harnessing our neurodivergent children’s natural talents and gifts. The environment needs to change, not the children.”

Here, Annie shares some of her story, in her own words.

When we are expecting a child, we usually expect to be their parent, not their ‘carer’. Do you identify as your autistic son’s carer?

I see the role of ‘mother’ as a carer role, they don’t feel so separate to me. But over the years, I’ve begun to notice, when I compare our family to others, that there are aspects of life that are harder, because of our children’s needs. However, there are also aspects of life that are easier for us, because neurodivergence doesn’t – in our case – just mean ‘hard’.

There are things my son does, and says, that are so clever and helpful, that other – perhaps neurotypical kids – don’t do. So, yes, I’m a carer. Yes, there are additional needs. It can be really hard – especially in terms of advocating and all the meetings with school and the local authority – but it also brings a lot of good stuff into my life.

What did you find most challenging in the early stages of navigating your son’s autism diagnosis? And what helped you during this time?

I knew very little about autism. I didn’t know anyone who was (knowingly) autistic. So, I was learning about a new way of thinking, being, feeling, behaving. I was probably concerned about the social impact if, say, my son couldn’t make eye contact – would that hinder him in later life? Mostly, I was concerned that school was so hard for my son. That was the first flag: school being so difficult and making him really anxious.

Until then, he’d been a happy, calm, sweet, kind, gentle, creative boy. He made eye contact with me. He was tender and affectionate and loved cuddling up with me. At school, though, he seemed scared and unhappy. It didn’t help that he started in the pandemic.

I’m not sure what helped, back then. Nothing, really. It was a lonely process of knowing that he was special in some way and coming to terms with the fact that the ways he was quite magical, and different, would be classed as a disability. No one really agreed that he was autistic – family couldn’t see it, neither could friends. One teacher at his first school seemed to understand what I was getting at but no one else did. So, I felt very lonely with that deep knowing.

I wondered if someone was to blame – like the hospital who induced his birth, and didn’t care for me, and him, properly during childbirth. I asked for my hospital notes, but they didn’t reveal anything useful. I couldn’t understand them. I was so relieved to later discover that autism is genetic. That felt much more comfortable to me.

Over time, I followed my intuition. I started to ask teachers at his new school – his second school – if he might be autistic. They always said no. I always knew they were wrong. In the background, I very slowly began to research autism. I stopped being quite so scared and started to become curious; enquiring. And then, when he stopped being able to go to school – it felt quite sudden but it was actually a slow unravelling following bullying from boys in his class and, I believe, his teacher – I stopped waiting for others to agree. I booked him for an assessment.

That same teacher wouldn’t fill out the form that a teacher would usually contribute to the assessment. I felt extremely let down by that second school.

We went through the assessment process, privately. And I was right. He is autistic. That’s when I started the proper research and it was that research, and finding brilliant online communities, that helped me to start embracing my son’s autism. I know that autistic adults often feel offended by the suggestion that autism is a super power but as a mother, I truly see something wonderful in the way my son thinks, interacts, creates, contributes. He is a quite remarkable kid.

Now, we’re embarking on an autism assessment for my other son and it all feels much lighter. I know what to do. I know how an assessment will help. I know about the EHCP [Education, Health and Care Plan] process. I know that there’s a chance school won’t work out for him and that he, too, will be homeschooled. I am at peace with this. Fully at peace.

Having a child who is feeling traumatised in the school environment, as my older son was, is brutal. I found it impossible to be happy during that time. I was anxious, panicked. I wanted what he wanted: for it to be okay. In time, we realised that my son being home-educated was the way to make him feel happy again. Now, he’s homeschooled and happy – and I’m much happier, too.

Many caregivers need to step out of their careers to meet their child's needs. How has your working life changed, if at all, since becoming a parent – and how do you feel about these changes?

I went properly work-from-home freelance after my first baby (10 years ago). I was a freelance journalist and copywriter, and I launched an online platform. That platform led to a book deal to write The Freelance Mum, teaching others how to set up a freelance career around young kids. From there, I launched online business courses that became my main work.

I’ve since had two further books published - Shy and Raise your SQ – created lots of online courses and I coach women who are looking to launch their own writing careers and/or businesses.

Lastly, I run two Substack platforms: one under my own name – Annie Ridout – where I write weekly personal essays on home, motherhood, writing, work, creativity and share self-development tools and business tips. The other is called Raising Neurodivergence, and it’s for parents of neurodivergent children. There are parents’ stories, Q&As with neurodivergent thinkers and I’m about to launch a section on ‘innovators’ – people innovating in the neurodivergence and education space.

I’m ambitious and have lots of energy and ideas, and I’ve always been quite clear, in my mind, that motherhood wouldn’t take the place of my career. I was also clear that motherhood would always, always come first. And it has. But around the edges of my children’s ever-fluctuating needs, I have found that I can be very productive in very small windows of time. I take whatever support I can get and I work unconventional hours at times to get the job done.

Luckily, crucially, I love my work.

Why did you decide to start sharing some of your experiences of parenthood – and eventually, launch your Raising Neurodivergence platform – and what impact has this had on your life?

I couldn’t stop writing about what was happening. I have found, over the past few years, that autism, neurodivergence and school trauma is largely not spoken about. It’s hidden behind closed doors. This makes me wonder if people are ashamed? I have no shame, only pride. And so I wanted to talk openly about autism, neurodivergence and how the ‘issues’ were with the system, not our neurodivergent children. They are wonderful. The system is fucked.

I wanted to share the beauty of our children’s ways – which are, of course, all different because every child is unique – but also, the challenges we’ve been through, mostly in the school system. We are open-minded, we see our children’s brilliance and I acknowledge – and broadcast – the prejudice we face.

I also wanted to help other parents to feel less alone. I found other parents’ personal stories incredibly helpful, in the earlier stages – I still do, actually – and so I started asking if others would share parts of their journey (the difficult bits; the things that have worked). Those stories women have shared on Raising Neurodivergence are incredible. I’m so grateful. And then I interview neurodivergent thinkers, because I’m interested in how neurodivergence manifests in later life; how it feeds into work/home-life.

People have sent me such amazing emails, since I launched the platform, saying that reading these stories has made them feel less alone. Someone said: “I’ve been reading your pieces for a few months and your writing is the first space I feel seen and heard as a mum to 2 ND children. The othering of us slowly grinds me down to the point where I lose confidence and doubts creep in even more. It’s an insidious cycle as patience, time and energy is the only thing that cracks this cycle. Thanks for helping to fill my cup up.”

If I ever feel like it’s quite a lot, running that platform (I invite contributions but it’s all free to read and access so it’s mostly unpaid work), I return to those comments and realise that I need to continue. I’m on a mission to contribute in a positive way to the ever-widening conversations about neurodivergence, education and what our children need. This is my way of doing that. Content is my thing.

Why is homeschooling the right fit for your family – and what is it like to go against the grain of the schooling system?

School didn’t work. I would have liked it to. My son would have liked it to. But it was too busy, too many people, too many transitions, unpredictable – all the things that many autistic children struggle with. The school wasn’t going to change.

We looked at specialist autism schools but he didn’t fit there, either. He’s what people in the media are referring to as an ‘inbetweener’. So, home is the only option for now.

I’m part of a group of parents with same-aged boys who are neurodivergent and homeschooled. We plan to meet every Friday and operate a self-directed learning space, where the kids choose what to do (art, movement, football, build) and we’re there to oversee. It feels really exciting.

In time, I’d like to set something up myself, perhaps with others. A more permanent space where our kids can gather, get creative, play. My son thrives on social interaction, just not in the mainstream state school environment. So, I’ll create a space where he – and others with similar needs – can thrive.

What are your kids like when they’re together?

My kids have an unusually close relationship, I would say. They play hide and seek, make amazing art together, watch TV. They are really creative and, mostly, very kind. But they also get pissed off with each other and need space. My daughter, particularly, as she’s the eldest and things are shifting for her. On the whole, though, there’s a lovely dynamic.

What supports have you put around yourself – or do you hope to put around yourself, as a carer?

My parents are an amazing support for us. This was one of the main reasons for returning to live in London (we tried two years in Somerset). I also pay for a babysitter to come once a week – a young guy who’s an artist and a DJ. My son adores him. They bake, play and make paper aeroplanes. He’s only 25 and incredible with kids.

I have found myself drawn to other women who have neurodivergent children. We can talk openly and understand each other. So, I find comfort in these friendships.

Nowadays, what do you find most challenging about being a caregiver? And on the flipside, what brings you the most joy?

Sleep is a challenge. My younger two still co-sleep and I rarely get to share a bed with my husband. Food is also hard – there are quite specific ideas about what can be eaten, when, how etc – as is having time with just my husband. I long for more time with him to talk without being interrupted.

But… my kids are my light. I love them. They tell me stories and make me laugh. We’ve started playing cards with the older two most days and I absolutely love it.

What do you wish other people knew about life as a caregiver?

Some of my older friends really haven’t been there for me. I’ve been shocked at how little support, or kindness, they’ve shown. Maybe some friendships end at this stage. What I’d have liked is for them to regularly check in and see how I am, and how my son is – as I have with them, when they’ve been going through something difficult.

Family and friends have often – especially at the beginning – wanted to share lots of stories, social media posts, articles etc with me. I found that annoying. I was doing my own very specific research depending on the stage we were at and what I needed to know. Being sent something about a random kid who’s autistic and can juggle felt completely irrelevant.

I wanted people to say: how are you? And then listen. Not advise – because no one was in a position to advise – not send me anything and definitely not share horror stories about autistic children and adults. That seems obvious but it’s not, to everyone.

What advice do you have for parents who are new to caring for an autistic child?

Remember that your child is still exactly the same child now as they were before ‘autism’ came up. That kid that you love, deeply. They don’t change, because they’ve been diagnosed. So, don’t let your connection be affected by what ‘professionals’ – or friends/family – say and predict. They may well often say the wrong thing. Give the wrong advice. Make your own decisions – you know your child best.

That said, it’s a learning process. You will learn, in time, how to make adjustments that will best serve them. Follow your intuition, when you can hear it. If someone makes a suggestion and your body tenses, it’s because that’s not what’s right for your child. Listen to your body.

This chapter has been challenging for me, because of school and the useless local authority, but it’s also been the most interesting chapter for me, since becoming a mother. I’ve learnt a new language, a new way of thinking. I’m grateful, now, for this opportunity to understand autism.

Follow Annie’s work on Instagram, her website and Raising Neurodivergence community.