Last year, on my birthday, I wrote myself a letter. I told myself to keep drinking the tea. To hold on. To notice even the tiniest shift.

This week, I turn 43. And I read that letter back.

The tea is still there. But these days I’ve added coffee to the mix. Tea keeps me alive. Coffee helps me feel alive. Maybe that’s the most honest summary of where I am right now with SEND parenting and my life.

Because the truth is we are still in the trenches. And I think we probably will be for a long time yet. That’s not defeat. It’s just reality. And I’ve made a kind of peace with that. Not the peaceful kind of peace. More the stubborn, gritted-teeth, another-coffee kind of peace.

But here’s what I’ve realised this year. The trenches aren’t just hard. They’re also where the secret club meets. And I feel privileged to be a member.

SEND parents are incredible. Truly. And yes that includes me. Because what people see from the outside isn’t the reality. They see adaptation and assume weakness. They see flexibility and assume lack of control. But they haven’t lived it.

They haven’t done a 16-hour day giving their child constant, undivided attention… and then followed it with a night shift of parenting. They haven’t spent weeks creating endless new ways to meet sensory needs, to regulate, to connect, to prevent meltdown. They haven’t washed one pot at a time in the seconds they’re allowed out of the room. Taken a 30-second shower while listening for every sound in the house. They haven’t sworn on purpose just to break tension… or said a ridiculous joke at exactly the right moment just to keep everything steady.

So no. I’m not a weak parent. I’m a responsive one. An adaptive one. A surviving one.

And being part of this club means I see things now that I don’t think the average person always gets to see. From the outside, my son struggling with school might look simple.

He’s fallen out with a friend.
He’s refusing to go.
He’s being difficult.
He just doesn’t like school.

But it’s not that simple. We are four years into his schooling journey now, and I can say with certainty it is far more complex than that. What looks like ‘not liking school’ is often school anxiety in neurodivergent children. It isn’t one thing. It isn’t a behaviour. It isn’t an attitude. It’s layered. It’s nuanced. It shifts constantly. And it has upskilled me in ways I can’t even explain. And sometimes I think about it like this…

If an adult told you they had been in a job for four years and struggled the entire time, they hated going, it made them feel sick, they cried before work and sometimes after, they could only get through the day by coming home halfway through just to reset…they had nightmares about it, felt anxious every single morning…they rolled themselves up in the duvet on a morning and hid in the corner of the room so their partner couldn’t get them dressed….they lied and said things like “my legs don’t work” to avoid going…

What would you say to them? Would you tell them to toughen up? To just get on with it? Or would you say…this job isn’t right for you. Let’s find something that fits you better. So why is it different for children? I don’t think it should be. And I think everyone else in the secret club would agree with that.

Because the secret club doesn’t just understand school avoidance and school anxiety. It understands people. It notices things. It connects differently. More awareness is growing around school anxiety and neurodivergent children, something organisations like the National Autistic Society are highlighting more and more. And this is what the secret club needs.

When you meet my son, you might not fully understand him at first. He is direct. Honest. Unfiltered in a way that can make you laugh or pause. He will absolutely tell me I stink. Or that I have a big nose. But he is funny and charismatic at the same time. He has personality. He is a character. And he also tell me he looks after people at school. And that’s the part people don’t always see.

There’s a non-verbal girl in his class who he really likes. She has never spoken a word to him or anyone else at school. At the school disco, he noticed her standing on her own. So he went over. Asked if she was having a good time. She nodded. He said, “good.” And that was it. But it wasn’t just that. That moment made me so proud. Deeply proud. Because he saw her. He noticed. He acted. Because he is part of that secret club as well. The one that notices more. Feels more. Connects differently.

The trenches are hard. I won’t pretend otherwise. But from down here, you get to see things that most people never will. You get to be part of something that most people never understand. And you get to raise children who in their own brilliant, unfiltered, wonderful way are already paying it forward. My son might be struggling now but I am sure that when he is an adult and in control of his own life he is going to change the world. He is The Boy Who Changed Everything.

So yes. We’re still very much in the trenches.

And I’m still drinking the tea.

But now I’ve got coffee too. And a lifelong membership to the secret club.

And honestly? That feels like progress.

Are you part of the secret club? I’d love to know drop a comment below and tell me one thing that only a SEND parent would understand.