Our Truth, Six Months In

It’s been six months since I started writing my blog.

If you had told me a year ago that I would be writing heartfelt posts, publishing them, and watching them reach people, move them, inspire them, make them stop and reflect — I probably wouldn’t have believed you.

But here I am. Six months into this journey, and I feel it’s time to pause for a moment, look back, and try to make sense of what’s happened — to me, to Asaf, to us.

It started with a need. A deep need to speak.

I needed to write. For me. For Asaf. For every child who goes unseen. For all the parents who sits quietly at night wondering if they’re doing enough, if they’re understanding their child, if they’re missing something important.

I wanted to tell my truth — raw, unfiltered. To share the confusion, the pain, the doubts — and right alongside them, the hope, the small moments of joy, and the deep belief that at the heart of this whole journey lies one thing: TRUST.

Trust in Asaf. Trust in what’s inside him. Trust in what’s possible.

Since the moment I truly began to presume his competence, to believe — not just in theory, but in my bones — that he understands, feels, chooses, thinks… something shifted. He began to rise like a meteor in the sky — leaving behind a white trail of light and possibility.

He rides horses independently, without anyone holding the reins. He participates weekly in a running group for individuals with special needs. He cycled 25 kilometers on a tandem bike. And just this Friday, he did something that filled me with pride — he overcame his fear and entered the water at Nahal HaKibbutzim, walking the full route immersed in water. It was more than just a physical act — it demonstrated courage. It was trust. It was him saying to himself "I can do this." And I know — truly know — that he can break any glass ceiling he chooses.

And while he’s been growing — so have I.

I’ve been lecturing for three years now. My confidence growing with every single talk I’ve given. I love standing in front of a crowd, sharing our story, talking about the importance of presuming competence and seeing the ripple effect take hold — watching people shift the way they think. It empowers me to continue. I share less of Asaf’s words, his words are his, and they are sacred — but I do share how he communicates. How he types. How he expresses himself with clarity, emotion, and depth that few imagined possible.

The responses I’ve received have left me speechless. Parents have told me that after reading a blog post, they understood something new about their child and their behavior. Therapists and educators have written to say that they now see non-verbal individuals differently. A 19 year old wrote and told me that she’s decided to study Speech Therapy as a result of reading my blog. Each person finds something different in my words — something that resonates with their own journey. That’s the magic of sharing. You never know where your story will land, or how it might quietly open a door in someone else’s world.

And every time I hear that it made a difference — even for one person — my heart fills with warmth.

I’m not sure where this road is leading. But I do know this:

Writing this blog has changed my life. I’m excited to see where this journey will lead us. Believing in Asaf — truly believing — has changed both of our lives. And sharing our journey has created a ripple effect I never imagined possible.

So here’s to six months of speaking our truth. Here’s to the next six — and to the endless possibilities that bloom when growth is nurtured by belief.

If our story touched you, made you think, or helped you see something in a new light — I’d love to hear from you. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments, pass this on to someone who might need it, or reach out if you’d like me to come speak at your community, organization, or event. The more we share, the more we change the world — one story at a time.

A Beautiful Sunrise this week over the Gilad Mountains in Jordan.