My First Blog – Introduction

Hi again! You might have checked out my ‘About Me’ section where I shared more exclusively about my role as a DE.

In this first blog post, I would like to open-up more on a personal level. I am hoping that I can express what brought me to become most dedicated to the disability space, as well as passionate about being a DE.

You will soon realise that I tend to get very wordy when I can express my thoughts, so this place seems to be the best fit for me to share my thoughts in bulk!!

Accessibility note: I intentionally did selective bolding throughout my blogs to support readability, skim reading, and easier information processing for neurodivergent readers and anyone who prefers scanning key ideas first 😊

More about Jess

Learning more about neurodiversity — both through my work and my own late diagnosis of ASD and ADHD in adulthood — has given me a deeper sense of what I value in my role and why social inclusion has always mattered to me, even before I had the words for my passion.

My studies and work experience had allowed me to reflect on my own childhood with a little more compassion, and make sense of things that I felt was confusing or difficult to socially navigate when integrating myself in social contexts.

Throughout my earlier years and twenties, I spent an enormous amount of time on my self-image (as all young people do!) reading self-help books, and watching YouTube videos on topics such as:

  • how to speak more confidently
  • how to dance more gracefully
  • how to show open body language
  • how to appear confident and improve my social skills

and other pointers, as a way to help me socially and improve how others perceived me socially, more positively..

I intentionally tried to appear more outgoing than I really was. I also did my best to hide any of my shyness, awkwardness, or how quiet I naturally was.

I became aware from an early age that my personality traits were sometimes interpreted negatively or mistaken for disinterest, or even looking upset or uncomfortable (when I did not feel upset but maybe just the uncomfortable part). I think part of this came from also recognising how much society tends to reward confidence, sociability, more open body language and extroverted behaviour. I felt I needed to adapt myself in order to connect well with others; especially that I wanted to connect better to peers of a similar age to me.

I genuinely felt a barrier to connection with most of my peers since my earlier experiences as a child. When fitting in socially became an outcmost importance to me, I would often push myself out of my comfort zone, whenever I had the opportunity, I did. I believed the part of me that experienced struggle in social contexts needed changing. At the time, I worried that staying the same way I naturally was was holding me back from connecting with others outside of who I was familiar with and or was new to me.

While I’ve definitely grown more confidence socially in one-on-one or small group settings, I still notice that my social differences are more noticeable when I am tired, interacting in larger groups (especially with people that I do not know well or who are more outgoing), talking with someone new in a formal setting or different environment that I’m used to, or if I’m told something or a joke that I feel I cannot easily relate or respond to in the same witty way.

Before I began consciously trying to improve my social confidence, there were many moments where, if I felt unsure, of how to navigate a social interaction, I would freeze, avoid eye contact, or quietly fade into the background (especially in a group setting), appearing more passive and silent in nature, sometimes to the point people sometimes genuinely wondered if I had the ability to verbally talk. In those moments, it often felt as though I had wanted to share what was on my mind but as though I had lost the ability to speak, despite genuinely wanting to be more socially included, connected and involved. A sense of belonging and making friends still mattered a lot to me in feeling connected, safe and secure despite possibly appearing to be closed outwardly to those who did not know me well.

Especially in moments where I felt frozen, I would later reflect back, feeling bad about myself and as myself what I could do better next time, such as:

  • mentally rehearsing conversations and social scripts in my head
  • practising ahead of time what I wanted to say or ask someone who I don’t know well
  • read blogs, book or watch Youtube videos about effective communication, language, pace of speech, how to appear confident, how much eye contact to give and even the timing for when to enter or leave a conversation that I wanted to start or to finish soon.

I would often seek advice from my mum after school or after being in a social setting, on how to respond to situations that left me feeling unhappy, confused or uncomfortable, especially when I wanted to express my own feelings to others the way I would for her outwardly but struggled to feel comfortable or know how with other people.

Whenever I experienced a sense of emotional challenge or disconnect in a social environment, I found altenerative ways of coping by pushing myself to focus more on the people and environments around me and adapting accordingly for what I think is needed of me. This can include letting people speak for most of the time, and exploring other people’s interests and what makes them happy or comfortable while I was slowly warming up to them. Often and to begin with I chose to stay close and sticked to people I was close to or knew better, like glue, if I was given a choice.

Over time, the habit of making constant effort to adjust and adapt also became second nature and made it easier for me to mask my inner experiences.

I also think it made it more difficult for me to recognise, acknowledge and communicate what I truly felt internally, as I had become very used to prioritising the need to appear “okay” or comfortable externally instead as compounded anxiety and or feeling embarrassed or unprepared was what I wanted to avoid socially (I’ll proabably speak more about what I think the detriments are in masking in a later post).

Focusing too heavily on what what I perceived as socially negative meant spending many years with a harsh inner critic which focused on my differences.

I learned to hide the things I thought others wouldn’t accept about me, or might find weird, believing that if I did my best to blend in and be accomodating, I could avoid standing out for the wrong reasons or being labelled as “odd” or anything that might be upseting for me to hear. 

Being this self consciousness made me cautious to stand out and worry a lot about making any kind of mistake in a social context. However it also encouraged me to develop stronger communication skills and avoid some of the bullying at school that I witnesssed others endured at school.

However, tucking myself away still came at a cost.

It had me hiding parts of myself from myself included, lowered my self-esteem, and had me missing and downplaying my own personal strengths at times.

That said, I’ve always been naturally curious about what makes other people tick — their interests, experiences, personalities, and stories.

Looking back, I think part of this curiosity also came from wanting to better understand the people and environments around me, as understanding patterns, predictability, and social dynamics often helped me feel more grounded, prepared, and in control within social situations.

Spending much of my time observing interactions first more comfortably from the sidelines first gave me a way to quietly understand people and, over time, build connections at my own pace. In many ways, observation became both a way of connecting with others and helping me navigate the uncertainty and anxiety that social situations could sometimes bring, that are often also out of my control.

Listening intently helped me:

  • find more common ground
  • explore new interests
  • improve my social understanding
  • build meaningful connections more gradually

In the past, I often ignored my own social needs — like the need to retreat earlier from crowded environments or wanting to take more quiet or solo time than others — because I was continuously pushing myself outside of my comfort zone, often leaving me in a more anxious state, to the point of meltdown or shutdown.

There were contexts where I believed that being able to make others comfortable and happy meant pushing my own preferences aside temporarily for wanting to be accomodating and meet positive expectations.

These days, my focus has shifted towards unlearning people-pleasing and masking, and giving myself space and permission to show up more authentically to what my needs are; even when that means fining more time to pause, take a step back, recharge and choose when I genuinely don’t want to participate.

Learning to put your needs first, is something I think many people can relate to, regardless of disability, neurodivergence or other differences.

Looking back, I realise that my curiosity, observations and genuine interest in understanding others better has always been my quiet strengths — leading to what I find myself doing now.

As a kid, I was drawn to those who seemed isolated or left out. I was sensitive towards making sure everyone around me felt okay, long before I understood what social inclusion meant through my disability studies.

In a way, that was the beginning of what has become a major part of my work as a Developmental Educator — supporting disability inclusion, which includes individuals who are neurodiverse, and valuing the importance of meeting people where they’re at.

What (and Who) Has Significantly Contributed to My Practice

Before entering my field of work, I was drawn to Social Psychology because it was a subject that fascinated me in high school because it helped me understand other people’s perspectives and preferences through both theory and observations – apart from all the talks and tips I derived from my mum!

My interest in this subject came from a personal place, as many of my own personal goals included wanting to overcome my own shyness as a way to build more meaningful connections with others.

Applying what I have learned to improve my social communication has strengthened how I approach social interactions — especially through perspective lens of the Social Model of Disability, which recognises and embraces people’s strengths and differences in a positive way rather than focusing on “fixing” or changing each person’s preferences or communication style to fit the majority.

Studying Developmental Education at Flinders University, alongside my working experiences in the disability sector have significantly shaped my perspective on social issues.

Before starting my degree, I can admit that I had very little knowledge of any type of disability apart from thinking of someone in a wheelchair and seeing the disability symbol in car parks and other community settings.

Even though I studied a disability-related degree, I do not claim to be a “super expert” or know everything there is to know about disability. Learning about different disabilities, lived experiences, support needs, and personal preferences continues to be an evolving part of my work the more people I meet, connect with, and learn from over time.

Unlike Psychology, which I had already had some familiarty with high school, and my own independent reading, the world of disability was entirely new to me.

Ironically, that is what exactly captivated me.

Every topic felt fresh and important to understand, opening my eyes to the diverse experiences, barriers, and strengths within the disability community and, later build upon my passion for supporting others in meaningful and practical ways.

I originally imagined becoming a Clinical Pyschologist where I could also choose to sit quietly in a safe room I have created and speak one-on-one with others (which are still both an environmental preference and strength of mine).

Instead, I unexpectedly found myself deeply passionate about disability inclusion, disability-related topics, social development, and person-centred support in ways that felt broader, more flexible, and more creatively fulfilling than I had originally imagined for myself.

At a time after high school where I still felt uncertain about exactly what direction I wanted to take professionally, moving into the field of Developmental Education gave me space to explore my interests, values, creativity, and strengths in ways that felt both meaningful and genuinely aligned with who I was becoming.

During the years straight after high school, I also experienced periods of overwhelming anxiety and panic attacks, which at times made it incredibly difficult for me to perform academically, even when I knew I was mentally capable outside of those heightened states of stress and overwhelm.

Because of this fluctuating capacity, I often found myself questioning my direction, changing courses, feeling bad about myself and discouraged, and struggling with the pressure of trying to figure out where I belonged professionally while also managing my mental health and what seemed at the time an impossible and incredibly uphill endeavour.

Especially at a time when it felt like many people around me were confidently moving forward with life, study, and career plans in a more linear fashion, I was still trying to navigate overwhelming anxiety, fluctuating capacity, panic attacks, and feelings of failure while learning how to better manage my mental health.

Looking back now, I think that period also taught me the importance of being gentler with myself and recognising that struggling did not mean I lacked capability or potential for what I wanted to achieve for myself.

In many ways, finding the Developmental Education degree (thanks to mum’s suggestion), it felt like landing in a softer and more understanding space. It was one of the first educational environments where I felt that disability, mental health, and individual support needs were genuinely acknowledged and accommodated through things such as Disability Access Plans and more flexible support structures.

At the time, I was also much more private about my struggles and often found it difficult to openly speak about having a Disability Access Plan or needing additional support. I think part of me still carried a sense of shame around struggling academically when dealing with my anixieyty despite knowing I was also capable in many other ways when my anxiety was more manageable. Of course, I eventually completed everything required of me, but at the time anxiety often convinced me that I was falling behind in life and that it would take me far longer than everyone else to reach a place where I finally felt settled or capable.

Looking back now, I no longer see needing support or accommodations as something shameful. If anything, those experiences have helped me better understand how important flexibility, compassion, accessibility, and emotional safety can be for people trying to learn, grow, and navigate life while managing invisible struggles of their own.

That experience meant a lot to me personally, because it helped me realise that struggling under anxiety or overwhelm did not mean I lacked intelligence, capability, or potential. Sometimes people simply need the right environment, support, understanding, and flexibility in order to thrive.

I’m also grateful that this field turned out to be so flexible, open-ended, and full of opportunities to explore. That sense of freedom (rather than feeling locked-in or trapped), was especially important for me because I wasn’t entirely sure what direction I wanted to commit to after finishing school.

The support I received from lecturers, disability support staff, supervisors, and colleagues throughout my studies and early career also significantly contributed to my confidence and growth.

Making positive connections and collaborating with fellow DE’s and other allied health professionals also played a large part in building my confidence (basically having more work experience), helped to ease my imposter syndrome which was felt more strongly at the start of my professional life.

Like many new graduates, I spent months feeling more like a perpetual student than a fully-fledged professional with experience that I could lean on.

Through working across different settings, I found that I naturally think on my feet too, and enjoy offering creative, practical suggestions to someone, often with minimal preparation.

There have definitely been moments — and sometimes still are — where feeling underprepared, rushed, or overwhelmed creates enormous stress internally for me, despite trying my best to appear calm and confident externally.

Over time, experiences like these encouraged me to become more intentional about preparing myself much ahead of time, to create better structure within my sessions and to better develop my work that feels more practical, flexible, and sustainable for both myself and the people I support.

When I first started, supervision often felt like I was left to figure things out on my own.

I quickly realised that shadowing other professionals could only take me so far — and that true confidence would come from developing my own style, approach, and inner confidence through practical experience too.

It really is a continued process of trial and error, in this field of work, getting more comfortable in my own skin, and eventually trusting what I also had to offer was of real value to others.

While developing social and communication skills can benefit everyone, I have also come to understand something important:

  • improving social skills needs to be rooted in self-acceptance not self-correction.

Genuine connection can only thrive when we respect differences, including neurodiverse ones, and to let go of the pressure of constantly mask or conform to fit in.

  • true inclusion can only happen when there is a space created where people feel safe to be themselves.

Through my work, I’ve come to deeply appreciate the beauty of different brains, communication styles, and support needs, and how I can adapt my DE approach to reflect that.

That’s what I hope to foster through my work at Kind Fox — a space for kindness, reflection, creativity, and where differences are embraced as strengths rather than deficits.

What I Hope to Achieve at Kind Fox

In addition to my DE work, I am now focusing more on expanding my involvement in the field through collaboration with others who share similar values and interests.

For me this includes:

  • creating educational resources
  • designing games and activities
  • supporting emotinal and social development
  • producing neurdiverse-friendly content
  • helping new practitoners feel less overwhelmed

Currently, I feel most passionate about creating original resources that combine my disability knowledge, creativity, sensory approaches, and play-based learning.

I also feel really grateful to have a partner who shares this creativity and passion alongside me throughout this process of making Kind Fox a meaningful place of work for all of us.

Having my own collection of therapeutic strategies and resources to eventually share with others feels deeply meaningful to me. Especially because I still clearly remember how overwhelming it felt trying to structure sessions and choose appropriate therapy materials at the beginning of my career.

I remember how tricky it was trying to figure out what actually worked for me, especially when there were so many suggested approaches, resources, expectations, and different ways of doing things to navigate all at once.

In many ways, that immersive and sometimes overwhelming experience taught me the importance of developing my own flexible and adaptable therapeutic style — one that suited both my personality and strengths — while also giving myself permission to experiment, grow, and continue learning and improving over time.

Growth and flexibility really are key to supporting others, and myself well.

My hope is to eventually create more sources that feel:

  • practical
  • relatable
  • supportive
  • fun / engaging
  • creative
  • neurodivergent-friendly
  • useful for both practitioners, participants and the wider community

Drawing from my own early challenges, I also hope that anything I create can help others feel less overwhelmed, more confident, and better able to recognise their own strengths, interests, and to also discover what unique ways they work best.

This journey of self-discovery and professional growth has honestly felt humbling and strangely full-circle, as by entering a field centred around social inclusion and disability, I unexpectedly ended up understanding myself more deeply too, including being later diagnosed.

It reminded me that:

we grow alongside the individuals we support

One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned is that we should always look towards the people we support first and genuinely try to understand things from their perspective.

People are the true experts in their own lives.

Even when communication is difficult, or someone is still figuring things out for themselves, their perspective and insight still matter deeply.

Beneath all of our differences, I think many of us are simply trying our best to navigate life, relationships, and our place in the world as we go.

And perhaps the most reassuring part is — we don’t have to do it alone.

We can be kinder to ourselves and one another as we continue to:

  • understand
  • connect
  • learn
  • grow
  • communicate
  • support one another
  • and create spaces where people feel understood, valued, safe, accepted, and comfortable enough to be themselves.