Confessions of a Former BCBA & PDA Parent

PDA parents often experience fleeting micro-grievances on their journey toward radical acceptance.

Stinging.

Unexpected.

Often arriving when you least expect them.

Aspects of your life unfolding in ways you never imagined.

Or imagined very differently.

Micro-grievances are difficult to explain.

Difficult to communicate.

And often go unspoken.

They can appear when watching your child out in the world.

Doing the best they can.

Among peers their age.

Especially when they are participating in the very same activity.

They can appear while listening to friends talk about ordinary parts of daily life with their children.

The mundane.

The expected.

The things most people take for granted.

Particularly when the topic is something your child struggles to access.

Or cannot access at all.

They can appear during difficult moments.

When the simplest.

Most intuitive.

Most obvious solution to a situation.

Is something your child cannot do.

Not because they won't.

Because they can't.

Because of their nervous system disability.

And perhaps that is what makes micro-grievances so difficult.

They are often not about major losses.

They are about countless tiny moments.

Tiny realizations.

Tiny reminders.

Tiny departures from what you once expected life would look like.

Each one relatively small.

Yet cumulative.

And over time.

These fleeting moments become part of radical acceptance.

Not acceptance of less.

Acceptance of reality.

Acceptance of capacity.

Acceptance of the fact that support needs are real.

That nervous systems matter.

That access is not equal.

That ability is not always consistent.

And that progress is not always linear.

Micro-grievances do not mean you love your child any less.

They do not mean you are ungrateful.

They do not mean you wish for a different child.

They simply reflect the reality that love and grief can coexist.

That joy and sadness can coexist.

That gratitude and loss can coexist.

That multiple truths can exist at the same time.

And perhaps that is one of the most difficult lessons PDA parenting teaches.

How to hold all of it.

Without trying to fix it.

Without trying to resolve it.

Without trying to make it disappear.

Just long enough to let compassion emerge.

For your child.

For yourself.

For everyone doing their best to navigate realities they never expected.