Published: April 28, 2025
By Jillian Johnson
I’ve always found it rather fitting that the Month of the Military Child and Autism Awareness Month both fall in April. It’s a reminder of the importance of recognizing, supporting, and advocating for kids whose stories are too often overlooked — whether they’re moving from base to base, adjusting to unfamiliar environments, or navigating a world that wasn’t built with their minds in mind. And sometimes, they’re doing all three at once.
A Diagnosis that Changed Everything
My son received his autism diagnosis at the age of 12. We had long been aware that he struggled behaviorally in school, but it wasn’t until his diagnosis that I truly understood that autism is a spectrum, not a single, one-size-fits-all condition. That moment of clarity didn’t just shift the way I saw him; it opened a door to understanding myself and his sister as well, both of whom would eventually receive our own diagnoses.
Our diagnoses weren’t just labels — they were explanations. They helped us make sense of behaviors, emotions, and reactions we’d spent years trying to navigate blindly. There’s a kind of peace that comes from realizing there’s nothing “wrong” with you, that you just experience the world differently. That perspective has become the foundation of how I talk about neurodivergence with my kids and remind them that they are just as capable as anyone else of achieving anything they want in life.
Starting Over, and Over, and Over, Again
If I had to name the hardest part of military life for my children, it wouldn’t be the deployments; it would be PCS moves. While we haven’t moved as often as some families, every relocation has come with its own kind of turbulence: meltdowns, sleepless nights, anxiety about new schools, and the heartbreak of leaving friends behind, only to face the pressure of trying to make new ones quickly. The expectation to “quickly adapt” is unrealistic for many kids, but especially for those whose brains process change differently. And don’t even get me started on being told about “being resilient,” or having to start from scratch with setting up appointments with specialists, enroll them in new activities, etc.
What most people don’t see is that every move requires us to start from scratch. We have to rebuild routines, reestablish support systems, and relearn how to feel safe in a brand-new place. Trial and error becomes our constant companion. And that’s not failure; it’s survival. We have to survive where others thrive, and this is something I wish more people understood about the unique needs of neurodivergent kids and their families — especially schools.
The Fight for Support
Schools have been hit-or-miss when it comes to providing even adequate support and accommodations for my kids. I remember being denied twice for an IEP meeting for my son at his new school, and only being granted a meeting once I cited a line from the Individuals with Disabilities Act (IDEA). We fought hard for him to be able to succeed; but the burden shouldn’t fall on families or the individuals with the disability(ies) to prove they’re worthy of support. The system should be designed to meet their needs, not the other way around. Having to constantly advocate just to access basic rights should not be the norm. Support shouldn’t be something we have to fight for — it should be the standard.
Yes, being a neurodivergent military kid comes with challenges. But it also comes with incredible strengths. Creativity, empathy, deep focus, and out-of-the-box thinking are just a few of the things neurodivergent kids are capable of. My kids have untameable spirits that will be part of the driving force of change for a world that is better suited for them. We might have to work a little harder to find our rhythm, especially in a military life that often values conformity and speed. But different doesn’t mean less. It never has.
So as we recognize both the Month of the Military Child and Autism Awareness Month, I hope we hold space for kids living at the intersection of both. The ones who are adapting, advocating, and enduring more than most people realize. Their stories matter. Their voices matter. And they are more than capable of doing amazing things.
Posted In: Our Stories