Let’s just be real for a minute: meeting friends as a special needs parent sucks. People don’t talk about this enough. The parenting world is already full of judgment and comparison, but when you add a child with special needs to the mix, it’s like you suddenly get dropped onto an island with no map, no guide, and no rescue boat.
You know those “mom groups” or “playdate circles” where everyone is swapping stories about how fast their kid learned to read or how great they are at soccer? Yeah… I can’t relate. Instead of bragging about milestones, I’m just hoping my kid can stay regulated enough to make it through the hour without a meltdown. I’m praying no one makes a comment like, “Wow, he’s still not talking?” or gives me that pity look when I pull out sensory toys or headphones.
I can’t “just drop by” someone’s house for a casual visit. I have to think about accessibility, noise levels, new smells, new textures, and a million other sensory triggers. I can’t go to every birthday party because crowds and loud music might be too much. And let’s not even get started on family gatherings — there’s always at least one relative who thinks I’m “babying” my child or suggests that I “just need to discipline better.”
I crave deep connection. But finding people who understand this life, who get the exhaustion that goes beyond sleep deprivation — the emotional exhaustion of constantly advocating for your child, of fighting schools, doctors, and even family members — that’s rare. When I do meet another special needs parent, there’s often this immediate bond. We can skip the surface-level BS and jump right into the real, messy, raw stuff.
But those connections aren’t always easy to come by. It can feel isolating, like no one sees you or your child fully. You’re too “different” for the neurotypical crowd, but sometimes even other special needs parents are navigating different challenges that don’t align exactly with yours.
It sucks. It hurts. And it’s lonely.
But here’s what I’ve learned: the few people who stick around, who stay through the awkward silences and the canceled plans and the sensory meltdowns — those people are gold. They’re rare gems worth holding on to with both hands.
To the special needs parents out there who feel alone: I see you. You’re not too much. You’re not too sensitive. You’re carrying more than most people could ever imagine.
And if you’re reading this as a friend to a special needs parent, please know: it’s not that we don’t want to hang out or be close. We just have a different reality. Keep inviting us. Keep showing up. Keep loving us where we are.
Because even though meeting friends as a special needs parent sucks — when you find the right ones, it makes all the difference.
