My Open Letter To The World
THIS STORY BELONGS TO…Candice and her two daughters
Wake Up, World — You're Breaking Us
We are raising children in a world that speaks in paradoxes.
We are told to parent gently, to listen without judgement, to validate feelings, to create safe, supportive environments where our children can express themselves without fear. We are told to nurture, to honour, to protect.
And yet, when my autistic daughter is in the depths of despair, suicidal and burnt out, the advice I receive from a medical professional, a paediatrician no less, is to threaten her. Tell her it’s a legal obligation to go to school, they say. Tell her you could go to jail.
As if fear will restore her will to live. As if threats will magically undo her shutdown nervous system, her inability to eat, to shower, to even get out of bed. As if what she needs is more pressure, more weight, more of the world telling her she is failing. Instead of a world that listens and finally says, I hear you. I believe you. Let's stop. Let's rest.
What era are we living in?
Are we raising children to feel safe, to trust the adults in their lives, to be heard, or are we slipping back into a system where fear and control matter more than compassion and understanding?
Do you not think I want the best for my child?
Do you not understand that I grieve for her every single day? I grieve for everything she wants so badly but cannot reach, for how desperately she tries to be part of a world that was never designed for her brain.
My daughter fights harder than anyone just to make it through a single day. Every moment she chooses to keep going is a quiet revolution. She does not need threats. She needs space. She needs rest. She needs the peace and quiet to rehabilitate on her own terms, at a pace her body and brain can manage.
I know how important education is. I'm not ignorant. But right now, you’re asking me to prioritise “attendance” over survival.
What she’s missing isn’t just school — it’s life. She’s missing feeling safe in her own skin. She’s missing moments of joy, of connection, of calm. And if I force her through panic attacks and despair, through sleepless nights and empty stomachs just to get her through the school gate, then yes, maybe I’ll succeed. Maybe I’ll tick your box.
But the cost may be her life.
And that cost? That won’t fall on you. You’ll move on. You won’t even know that the pressure you applied to me, that I felt I had no choice but to pass on to her, was what finally broke her.
That’s the real legal and moral failure here.
Why do we have psychologists, occupational therapists, and neuro-affirming practices if none of it is reflected in the systems that govern their lives? Why pretend we support mental health, when we punish children for showing us they are in crisis?
My daughter is not lazy. She is not difficult. She is in pain. She is not refusing to comply, she can’t comply. And every time I am forced to push her beyond what she can cope with, the light inside her dims just a little more.
I am angry. Because this is not what care looks like. This is not what justice looks like.
Wake up, world. You are breaking us.
And if we don’t stop, I fear one day, it will be too late.
Authors Info: Candice is a devoted single mum to two daughters, aged 11 and 13, both diagnosed with Level 2 Autism and combined-type ADHD. In addition, one also has a PDA profile and a diagnosed anxiety disorder, while the other has diagnosed anxiety and depression.
Since 2021, Candice has been navigating the complex and exhausting reality of ‘School Can’t’. To meet her daughters' needs, she’s reduced her work hours to part-time and sold her home, doing everything possible to keep them safe and supported. She’s recently withdrawn one daughter (again) from school to preserve her mental health, while the other clings on in an 'alternative' setting that still fails to meet her needs. Both girls want to be at school, but the system isn’t built for them.
Like many families, Candice has been left with no real choice but to consider home schooling— not because it’s the best option, but because the system doesn’t have the resources to support her children. Yet the enormous pressure, financial strain, and emotional toll of taking on that role are rarely acknowledged. The burden placed on parents is unsustainable, and deeply unjust. Candice doesn’t claim to have all the language or expertise, but she’s finding her voice and speaking up not just for her own girls, but for every family being pushed to the edge by a system that refuses to change.
