Maybe We Need to Stop Asking How to "Fix" Autism and Start Asking Better Questions

When my child was first diagnosed, I spent a lot of time searching for the right treatment. Like many parents, I hoped there would be something that would make everything easier. Looking back, I realize I was asking the wrong question. Autism isn't something a person catches. It's a neurodevelopmental condition that shapes how someone experiences the world from the very beginning. That doesn't mean every autistic person has the same life. Some autistic people live independently, build careers, and advocate for themselves. Others, including many people with profound autism, may be non-speaking, have intellectual disability, need assistance with daily living, or rely on caregivers throughout their lives. Those differences are real. Ignoring them doesn't help anyone. At the same time, supporting an autistic person is not the same as trying to erase who they are. Speech therapy, occupational therapy, AAC, behavioral support, sensory accommodations, and medical care aren't about making someone "less autistic." They're about helping someone communicate, stay safe, reduce distress, and participate in life as fully as possible. I've learned that success doesn't have one definition. For one person, it might mean graduating college or living independently. For another, it might mean using a communication device for the first time, sleeping through the night, tolerating a doctor's visit, or learning one new daily living skill. Every one of those achievements deserves to be celebrated. I also think caregivers deserve more recognition. Behind many people with profound autism is a parent, sibling, grandparent, or professional quietly providing support every single day. That work is often invisible, but it matters. Maybe the goal was never to "fix" autism. Maybe the goal is to understand each person, recognize their strengths, support their challenges, and give them every opportunity to live with dignity, safety, and the best quality of life possible. To me, that's what meaningful support really looks like.