Holding On While Letting Go
While on a recent road trip, I found myself noticing families during brief, ordinary moments—stopping for gas, walking into convenience stores, standing in line at rest stops.
What stood out most wasn’t where they were going, but how they were moving together. Parents held their autistic child close. Some had a hand firmly wrapped around a small wrist. Others stayed shoulder-to-shoulder, quietly guiding, reassuring, protecting.
I recognized that posture immediately.
It wasn’t fear.
It wasn’t control.
It was love, awareness, and advocacy.
When families support their autistic child in public spaces, especially unfamiliar ones, they are responding to a world that can be unpredictable, loud, fast, and unforgiving. Travel magnifies all of that. What might feel like a simple stop to one person can feel overwhelming to a child who is processing new sounds, smells, lighting, and expectations all at once.
Traveling Isn’t Easy—and That’s Okay
Travel disrupts routines. It removes predictability. It introduces constant transitions. For many autistic children, those shifts require extra regulation and support. Holding a child’s hand, staying close, or guiding them through a space isn’t about limiting independence—it’s about creating safety so independence can grow.
I often think about how misunderstood these moments can be. From the outside, people may see a parent who “won’t let go.” What they don’t see is the preparation it took just to walk through that door. The social stories read in advance. The comfort items packed. The calm voice practiced again and again. The emotional labor that goes into helping their child feel safe enough to participate in the world.
Support Is Not a Failure—It’s a Strategy
When families travel with their autistic child, support might look like:
Staying physically close in crowded or unfamiliar spaces
Talking through each step quietly and calmly
Allowing extra time to enter or exit places
Leaving early when their child has reached their limit
None of this means that they are not capable. It means the adults around them are paying attention.
Each supported experience builds trust. Each safe outing teaches them, “I can do hard things when someone understands me.” That is not weakness—that is foundation.
The Weight of Being Seen
Public spaces can be emotionally heavy for families. There is often an unspoken awareness of being watched, judged, or misunderstood. Advocacy sometimes begins internally—by reminding ourselves that our child’s needs matter more than strangers’ opinions.
Holding onto your child in public isn’t something to apologize for. It is a visible reminder that an autistic child deserves access to the world with support, not shame.
Carrying Support Across Environments
These travel experiences don’t stop when the trip ends. They shape how a child regulates, communicates, and engages everywhere—including school.
That’s why partnership with educators matters so deeply.
Families bring lived experience. Educators bring instructional expertise. When those two perspectives meet with respect, the child benefits.
Families can support collaboration by:
Sharing what helps their child navigate new environments
Talking openly about regulation needs and safety strategies
Connecting travel experiences to learning goals like communication, flexibility, and self-advocacy
Educators can support families by:
Listening without judgment
Honoring family insight as valid and essential
Using consistent language and strategies across settings
When educators understand why a child needs support in new places, they can better support that child in classrooms, hallways, field trips, and beyond.
Walking Beside, Not Behind
Supporting an autistic child —whether on the road, in a store, or at school—is not about holding them back. It is about walking beside them until they are ready to take the next step on their own.
Sometimes advocacy looks loud.
Sometimes it looks like policy change.
And sometimes, it looks like a parent holding their child’s hand at a gas station, saying quietly, “I’ve got you.”
That matters more than people realize.
If you are the parent holding your child’s hand a little longer, standing a little closer in unfamiliar places, or planning every detail before stepping out the door—please know this: you are not doing it wrong.
You are responding to your child with intention, care, and deep understanding. Every supported moment is teaching safety, trust, and resilience. Independence does not come from being pushed before a child is ready—it grows from being supported until they feel secure.
Keep showing up. Keep advocating.
Your presence is powerful, and your child feels it.
If you need support at the IEP table or want to bridge the communication gap between school and home, reach out to Nicolette Lesniak at info@nicolettelesniak.com
