Finding My Place as an Ally: Supporting My Son

My son was diagnosed with Nonverbal Learning Disorder (NVLD) and dyscalculia at the age of five. From early childhood, even simple tasks like tying shoelaces, riding a bike, or navigating space safely were enormous challenges for him. He often walked into me or objects around him, unaware of personal space, and understanding social cues was a constant struggle. Things most people take for granted, like interpreting idioms or reading a room, felt like mountains to climb.

Watching him struggle was incredibly hard. As a parent, you want to protect your child from every difficulty, but I quickly realised that protection alone wouldn’t help him thrive. I had to become an ally: someone who could listen, understand, and advocate without taking over his journey.

One pivotal moment came when an educational psychologist assessed him for extra support at school. The report recommended accommodations like extra time in exams, the use of a laptop, and a quiet room to sit in. But what struck me most was one line that seemed almost out of place: “He can go to university.” That small sentence stayed with me, planting a seed of hope even when the path ahead seemed impossible.

GCSEs were a washout. My son struggled, and it was easy to feel disheartened. But in college, he met a teacher who truly understood him, someone who recognized his strengths and pushed him to the next level despite his prior setbacks. Even when his college maths teacher told me a laptop would make no difference and that he would never get to university, my son proved everyone wrong. He achieved the highest grade and earned a place at university, even without passing GCSE maths!

The journey has not been easy. University has presented new challenges and requires ongoing support. But the most important lesson I’ve learned is that allyship is about staying present, listening, and adapting. I never compared my son to others

instead, I focused on understanding his perspective, celebrating his progress, and giving him the tools and encouragement he needed to succeed on his terms.

Being an ally isn’t always visible or glamorous. Sometimes it’s a lonely battle, filled with frustration and doubt. But it is deeply rewarding. Supporting someone, whether at home or in the workplace, is about creating space for their unique strengths and perspectives, advocating for their needs, and believing in their potential even when the world doubts them.

Through this experience, I’ve seen how much patience, understanding, and empathy can transform a life. I hope that sharing our story can help others, parents, colleagues, and allies alike, realise that listening, believing, and supporting can make all the difference. Every individual has a place, and sometimes, being an ally means helping them find it.