17/01/2026
I hope I don’t upset anyone with this, but last night I got thinking - oh dear!
I went down a dark rabbit hole, could this be what’s happening?
Or have I fully lost the plot, trying to find a reason why?!
If You Don’t Name Us 👇
They say it’s about budgets, About backlogs.
About difficult decisions in difficult times.
They say the NHS is under pressure,
local authorities are stretched, schools must be resilient.
They say it with consultations and clipboards,
with policy papers and calm voices,
with smiles that soften the blow of doing nothing.
But what if this isn’t about money?
What if it’s fear.
Fear of minds that don’t bend neatly.
Fear of children who won’t comply politely
with Ofsted frameworks and attainment charts.
Fear of people who ask why instead of how high.
So you stop diagnosing,
You raise thresholds.
You stretch waiting lists
until children grow up
before they’re ever named.
Because if you don’t name us, you don’t have to accommodate us.
If you don’t recognise us,
you don’t have to change.
You rename need as distress.
You call support dependency.
You dress suffering up as resilience
and hope no one notices the cost.
You tell parents to wait.
Two years.
Three.
Five.
You tell schools to manage without funding,
without training,
without specialist support and then you blame them when children disappear from the register.
You say elective home education is rising,
like it’s a trend,
not a last act of protection.
You say attendance must improve,
but you won’t ask why children are breaking
under fluorescent lights,
crowded corridors,
and untrained restraint.
You say reasonable adjustments
but never define reasonable
as human.
Because once a child is diagnosed,
the law speaks.
The Equality Act applies.
EHCPs become more reachable.
The system becomes accountable, or should anyway!
And accountability
is expensive.
Neurodivergent people aren’t broken.
We’re disruptive.
Not because we’re loud,
but because we see.
We see when rules don’t make sense.
We feel when environments are hostile.
We resist quietly, loudly, awkwardly, honestly.
And that kind of truth
is dangerous
to a system built on conformity.
So no, this isn’t a cull
with force or violence.
It’s quieter than that.
It’s language removed.
Pathways closed.
Doors shut politely
and labelled streamlined.
It’s making support so hard to reach
that only the strongest survive it,
and then saying,
“See? They’re coping.”
It’s delaying identity
until people forget they were ever allowed to ask who they are.
Because an undiagnosed person doesn’t have rights, just behaviour.
Just failure.
Just non-compliance.
And when we burn out,
when we fall out of education,
out of work,
out of public life, you don’t call it exclusion.
You call it unfortunate.
You call it complex, You call it not meeting threshold.
But make no mistake.
This isn’t about us being too many.
It’s about us being too honest.
Too uncontainable.
Too unwilling to pretend
that harm is normal
just because it’s common.
We don’t need fixing, We need room.
And if naming us means rebuilding the system
changing schools,
rethinking work,
listening to children…
then that is the diagnosis
they refuse to accept.
Because once we are named,
once we are supported,
once we are allowed to exist out loud,
the system has to change.
And that fear?
That fear says everything.
Just a thought anyway.
All my Love as always.
Michaela
Spilling the Tea on Autism and ADHD