As a mom of three kids, all with their own unique challenges, I’ve learned that not all disabilities are visible. It’s a truth that’s hit me hard over the years, especially when I’m out in public, dealing with stares, whispers, and judgments. People assume a lot, and sometimes, those assumptions sting more than they know. My kids’ disabilities aren’t always obvious, and that makes life more complicated than it should be.
Take, for instance, a simple trip to the grocery store. You see us walking in, and we probably look like any other family. But what you don’t see is the amount of planning it took to get us there. What you don’t see is the sensory overload my middle child is experiencing from the fluorescent lights, the constant noise, or the overwhelming choice of brightly colored cereal boxes. You don’t hear the pep talks I gave before leaving the house or the strategies I had to put in place to help my kids cope with just being in that space.
What you also don’t see is that my youngest has autism, and a meltdown might seem to you like a tantrum, but for her, it’s the result of a world that feels too big and too loud. You might glance at us and think she’s just being “difficult,” but you’re only catching a tiny glimpse of what’s really going on.
There’s a silent world that many of us live in—where disabilities like ADHD, sensory processing disorder, or developmental delays are part of our everyday experience, but not always visible to others. My kids don’t use wheelchairs, they don’t have obvious physical markers that might make you stop and reconsider before casting judgment. Yet, they are constantly navigating a world that isn’t built for their needs.
It’s easy to see someone and think you know their story. But so much of what people go through is hidden beneath the surface. I used to get angry at the side glances, the muttered comments under people’s breath, the blatant stares when one of my kids couldn’t hold it together. Now, I just try to remember that people don’t always know what they’re seeing. Maybe they’re unaware. Maybe they’ve never had to live in a world where the everyday feels overwhelming.
So, I’m asking you to be kind, always. It costs nothing to give someone a little grace, to hold off on judgment, or to lend a smile instead of a disapproving look. That kindness might be the thing that helps a mom like me get through the day. It might be the thing that makes her feel seen, even when her struggles are invisible to the rest of the world.
Life isn’t always as it appears, and not all disabilities can be recognized at a glance. We are all fighting battles you can’t see. So, next time you see a family struggling in public, take a moment to remind yourself that what’s visible isn’t the full story. You never know what they’ve been through just to show up that day. And your kindness might make all the difference.