From Hand Holding to Heart Healing: Finding My Voice Through Sethu
Sep 11, 2025
Family Advisor
When I was pregnant, I often found myself dreaming in our house in Nasik, Maharashtra. Like every expectant mother, I pictured a perfect little world, my child, a reflection of my hopes, dreams, and even unfulfilled ambitions. I imagined their first words, first day at school, their laughter echoing through our home. I saw myself as the guiding light, doing everything in my power to shape their world. I was ready to give them the best of everything, love, opportunities, dreams, all perfectly wrapped up in the way I thought life should unfold.
But life has a way of surprising you. And sometimes, those surprises shake the very foundation you’ve built your dreams upon.
I still remember the day the word “autism” entered my life. The doctors spoke, but their words blurred into the background. I felt like I was underwater, floating in slow motion, watching their lips move, but not really hearing anything. All I could focus on was this overwhelming sense of loss. My dreams for my child, the future I had so vividly imagined, seemed to shatter into a million pieces.
When you’re a newly diagnosed parent, you often have no clue about the condition. No one prepares you for it. And yet, the professionals, or so-called experts, often deliver the diagnosis with such a heavy, somber tone, as if they’re announcing something terminal, like cancer, adding to the already suffocating fears you carry as a parent. When the world labels your child as “difficult,” you find yourself downplaying their needs and apologizing even for the things that don’t need an apology. Though my child was just being himself, the “what ifs” left me feeling stuck. It was harder when the loved ones weren’t ready to understand the diagnosis, my partner was struggling to come to terms with it all, the schools saw my child as a misfit, therapists tried to fix him and the rest were just dismissing his struggles.
Every day, I would go through that sinking, aching feeling when my child was rejected . when he didn’t fit in, when he wasn’t “enough” for the world. That rejection wraps around you like a dark cloak. There were moments I can’t pretend away, the nights when the tears wouldn’t stop, the quiet hours when my mind whispered things I didn’t want to hear. The bridge over the river suddenly felt like more than just a path. The ceiling fan wasn’t just a fan anymore. The weight of it all, the expectations, the heartbreak, the isolation, was crushing. The thought of ending it all would creep in, uninvited and overwhelming. But then, sitting beside me was my child. My beautiful, innocent child, looking at me with eyes full of trust, as if to say, “You’re my safe place.” And in that moment, one question echoed in my heart: “If not me, then who?”
My stress levels had reached a peak, managing a family, being the primary caregiver to our son, and working as a full-time employee with an Educational Firm. I was stretched thin, juggling everything, and ending each day completely drained. I knew I couldn’t go on like this.
And that’s when I decided to step away from my career. This wasn’t an easy decision but a necessary one. Though I made the choice willingly, it wasn’t because I lacked ambition or ability, it was because the world wasn’t ready for my child. The lack of inclusion and understanding forced my hand. I left my job not because I wanted to, but because the system left me no other option. However, the battle didn’t end here. Getting our son into a school that would accept and nurture him was still a struggle. That’s when a close friend suggested we look into a learning space in Goa. With the support of my husband we decided to explore a different form of education. The school opened its doors to us. Its close-knit community offered something we hadn’t found before: acceptance. Moving to Goa wasn’t easy, leaving the comfort of our home, living apart from my husband, and managing increased expenses, but for our son, it felt like the right beginning.
While his schooling was finally in place, the therapy situation remained the same. A transactional approach, generic interventions and little empathy. Therapists treated us with the same dismissiveness. But when you’re determined to move mountains for your child, the universe finds a way.
A fellow parent from school as well as my son’s pediatrician both recommended we visit The Sethu Centre for Child Development and Family Guidance in Saligao. We went in, bracing ourselves for the usual, a rushed assessment, a checklist of therapies, and little to no understanding. But Sethu was nothing like that. It felt different the moment we walked in. It wasn’t just a centre, it was a space where my child was truly seen. And for the first time in years, I was seen too not just as a caregiver or a mother trying to hold it all together, but as a person. After years of being treated as the shadow behind a checklist, someone finally asked me, “How are you?” Not as a casual greeting, but as a genuine, soul-searching question.
Sethu didn’t look at my child as a new client to extract money but a child who needed support. While other centres said, “We’ll work on his weaknesses,” Sethu said, “Let’s build on his strengths.” Where others insisted on daily sessions, Sethu empowered me to work alongside my child involving me, not making me dependent.
It was here that I saw my son begin to truly blossom. He wasn’t asked to mimic the world or hide behind a mask. He was encouraged to embrace who he is and given the tools to navigate a world that often struggles with difference. And isn’t that what we all deserve? A world where we’re not forced to “fit in,” but where we are accepted , just as we are.
Sethu’s family-centered care approach didn’t just change my child, it changed me. It changed us. It gave me the courage to dream again, not of milestones or checklists, but of a life filled with acceptance, love, and strength.
As I walked the path of advocacy for my child at school, at therapy centres, in society, I unknowingly found my voice. For years, I believed that being a parent to an autistic child would be a disadvantage when it came to resuming my career. I had quietly set aside the idea of returning to work, thinking the world wouldn’t understand or accommodate my reality. But then, an opportunity at Sethu came along. And there, in bold letters, was a requirement that surprised me: “Parent to a neurodivergent child—mandatory.”
What I once considered my greatest limitation had suddenly become my greatest strength. The very experience I thought would hold me back became the reason I could step forward again, this time into a role that was deeply meaningful, rooted in lived experience, and close to my heart.
From being a worried parent to becoming an advocate, to a team member of Sethu, I started working alongside families like mine. It’s a journey that has been grounding and, more than anything, empowering.
Sethu for me is not just a therapy centre. It’s a movement, a torchbearer for the neurodiverse community, working tirelessly to uplift not just children but entire families. They see the bigger picture: a world where every individual, regardless of their neurological makeup, is accepted, celebrated, and given the chance to thrive. And Goa, with its rich spirit of community, feels like the perfect soil for this change to take root. I dream of a day when Goa stands as a beacon of true inclusivity, a place where families like mine no longer have to fight for acceptance, but find it naturally woven into the fabric of society. An inclusive world doesn’t get built overnight. It takes its shape brick by brick, through every act of understanding, every choice to include, every time someone chooses compassion over convenience. It’s a slow, intentional process, requiring not just infrastructure, but a fundamental shift in mindset and heart. Sethu with its dream to build such a community is growing to accommodate more children and families across Goa and beyond. And YOU can be a part of the change.
By contributing to Sethu’s mission, whether you’re in India or across the world, you’re not just helping build a physical space. You’re helping build a future where every child, no matter how different, finds a place to belong. Every brick laid is a symbol of a collective dream, a dream of a world that embraces diversity and empowers every child to shine.
Let’s build that world together. Let’s build that home for countless families like mine. Your support, no matter how big or small, can help lay the foundation for a brighter, more inclusive tomorrow.