Emily is a 7-year-old who loves to dance, draw, dress up, and pet furry animals. She eats, plays,
goes to school, and experiences joy and sadness just like the rest of us. But because Emily can
at times get lost in her own world, stress over changes in routine, and become overwhelmed
with her emotions, society calls her atypical.

A neurotypical person is defined as “an individual who thinks, perceives, and behaves in ways
that are considered the norm by the general population.” What makes something normal? Is it
just because it’s what everyone else is doing? Why is someone strange just because they do
things in a way we don’t understand? How boring and unimaginative life would be if we were
all the same.

Emily was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) at age 3. Family members noticed
the signs, but I hadn’t. She was my first child and I thought she was wonderful. I didn’t know
what was typical and what was not. I was also in denial. Emily had already been diagnosed with
type 1 diabetes at 13 months old. I wasn't ready to face a diagnosis of yet another chronic
condition.

Emily’s therapy began during COVID lockdown. While others were learning new skills and how
to bake bread, I was helping her learn how to communicate and retrain her brain. While others
were getting physically fit, I was physically restraining my child to stop her from banging her
head against the floor during a meltdown.

Words escape me when I look at the sweet, funny, social girl Emily has blossomed into. I’m
beyond proud. She’s worked so hard to come so far, but it breaks my heart when I see her
struggle to keep her composure. Emily can still become upset by crowds and loud sounds, but
she can also sing a song in perfect pitch after hearing it only once. Emily may not be
neurotypical, but she is brave, resilient, creative, and driven. She weeps when she is moved by
music. Call that peculiar? Atypical? I call that beautiful.