So our son, who Dylan is based upon in My Story About Autism, is now twenty! I know, I can’t believe it either.

As he passed through the teenage years and into greater independence we wondered, and  often worried, about what would happen next. Our son has many interests and so much potential, but as yet he doesn’t work and has a team of wonderful support staff/tutors who come out to him. He struggles to socialise with other young people his age and relies upon us, largely, for organisation and entertainment!

We live in a wonderful town by the sea in West Dorset and are very fortunate to have so many opportunities for being outdoors and in nature, and a supportive community around us. However, West Dorset is resource poor in terms of educational and housing opportunities for young people with additional needs. It is more isolated than the rest of the county geographically and in many other aspects. So no shared/supported housing for someone like our son, and even if there were, his anxiety at the moment would make it hard for him to be in a setting away from home. So we started to think about loft/garage conversions. We also thought about our own needs – both of us working from home and currently having to accomodate our son’s support staff in the kitchen! We needed more of a physical separation and break from our son, whilst still being able to give him practical and emotional support.

Eventually a solution presented itself, and my husband, sadly, gave up his cabin where he had been working at the end of the garden and a new cabin was built on the site, last year which could be plumbed in. But when would our son move in?

Despite being ready for several months, he was wary at first of using the cabin. We started by transferring his support sessions up there, especially cooking, with some amazing food coming out of the bijou kitchen. Weeks passed again and we began to listen to our son as he defined his own timeline, rather than imposing one. This took a lot of patience as we needed to do building work in the house which couldn’t happen until he moved out. Small things were achieved each weekend, such as building the computer desk and putting up shelves for his collections. Eventually we had to give him a six week deadline and in week five he ventured a night in the cabin, grumbling in the morning about things that weren’t quite right. But he never looked back from that point, continuing to go up every night. We had to pinch ourselves! But it had happened.

Now he sees us at mealtimes and in the evening, but is largely self sufficient otherwise. We are gradually getting some structure around housework and other areas of responsibility. It has been quite a journey. It feels as if he now has a launchpad into adulthood and independence. One day he may move away completely, but until then he can use the washing machine and we can talk about his day.