How to Help My Child Sit in Public

I thought my daughter’s struggle was about sitting. But what I was really struggling with was my expectation—and my lack of understanding autism. It took me years of failed outings to understand this.

Before my daughter’s autism diagnosis, my husband and I loved going out. Cafes, restaurants, markets—being outside, exploring food, watching movies. Outings were our thing. It was one space where our energy matched, where we enjoyed each other in the moment.

After her diagnosis, outings didn’t stop suddenly. They slowly became impossible. On the spectrum, exploring food is difficult. She was restricted to two things—French fries and chocolate pastry. And there I was, assuming she would eat like other kids. She wouldn’t.

She would mostly like to move around and avoid sitting. And inside my head, there was constant confusion—should I enjoy myself or should I stay alert? When she got up, one of us had to get up. What if she runs, what if she gets lost? If not me, then my husband will stay alert. Slowly, outings started feeling like torture.

I was living the reality of a parent of a child with autism—my autistic child keeps moving, and I didn’t know how to manage it.

So I gave up. I thought it’s better to sit at home and do nothing than go out and struggle. That decision shattered something inside me. I was young, already feeling alone, and there was not a single mother around me who had a special child and could understand this pain. This pain is invisible. It’s not a loss people can see. It’s a daily compromise of happiness.

Then one day I realized—I am not okay with failing at outings.
Going out made me feel alive. Exploring the world made me happy. And I didn’t know any other way to feel that happiness. So, I decided that once every weekend, we will go out. Saturday or Sunday. Not as a wish. As a practice for a hopeful happy outing.

We didn’t start with cafes or restaurants. We started with markets. Places like Dilli Haat, GK Market, Khan Market, CP. Places where she could move. Walk. See bubbles. Watch hawkers selling toys. Feel the hustle.

Her need for physical movement was met. And we didn’t force sitting.

Outings became easier. But inside me, something was still unresolved. Occupational therapy was going on regularly. But this was not helping my daughter sit for longer duration. Was therapy not enough? If not, then what is missing?

That’s when I realized—I kept meeting her need for movement but in my heart, I was constantly worried. This vibration of feeling worried gets transferred in my daughter. She will feel what I feel for her. That if she seeks movements then she is not a good person, because this worries her family.

My question about her sitting difficulty was still unanswered. I dig deeper and that’s when I realized—my definition of a “successful outing” was borrowed from society.

I realized that it was society that decided how to sit, how to behave—in a restaurant, in someone else’s home. That definition was never meant for my happiness, or my daughter’s.

The reality is, her movement comes from her body, from how her nervous system works. It’s neurological. It’s real. And if I want to watch Netflix, or chat with friends, that is my need too. Just as real.

These realities—how a person is made by God, the true, genuine way they are—are pure, and nobody should question or judge them. So how could I even question her need to move?
That expectation itself was unrealistic.

Yes, I still stay alert. But that alertness no longer costs me my happiness. It became part of my understanding.

• I started seeing her differently.
• She is managing her body by moving.
• She is listening to her nervous system.
• And she is not suppressing herself.

And that hit me deeply. Because I have always suppressed myself. Sitting a certain way. Talking a certain way. Behaving a certain way in front of people.

But she is raw. Honest. Unbothered. And I realized—if I complain about her movements, if I carry irritation or grudges inside me, I am silently teaching her to dislike herself. This made me wonder if I am thinking from the perspective of ‘what will people think?’ or a better perspective—‘What will my child learn from me?’ That her needs are invalid?

I stopped trying to be a mother who fits into public spaces, and became a mother who protects her child’s nervous system.

A child learns self-love first through the mother’s acceptance. If I am not okay with her, she won’t be okay with herself.

So now, I let her be. Completely. Movement included.
Not just acceptance. But Joy.

Because I don’t want a grown-up daughter who suppresses herself the way I did. If you’re a mother carrying these questions, if outings, public spaces, or expectations feel heavy, you don’t have to hold it alone. You can tap on the WhatsApp logo below to message me. We’ll talk—not to fix, but to understand. I can also be reached on the contact details mentioned in my website.