Something about how our sector talks about independence has bothered me for a while. We tend to measure it by how little support someone needs — fewer visits, a shorter care plan, eventually a tenancy with no hours attached at all. For a lot of people, that works fine as a marker. With autistic adults, it’s gone wrong often enough that I no longer trust it as a default, and pushing toward it too soon usually leaves people worse off than the plan predicted.
What gets counted as independent
Ask most services what independence looks like and the answer is fairly consistent: someone managing their own flat, getting to appointments unaccompanied, coping with whatever the day throws at them without anyone noticing it costs them anything.
What that actually takes for an autistic adult is a different question entirely. Eye contact held because it’s expected, not because it feels right. A steady expression kept in place while noise or lighting underneath it is genuinely unbearable. Staying calm on the outside tends to get rewarded with less oversight, so people learn the trick whether or not it’s costing them anything to keep it up. Autistic people call this masking. The cost of doing this all day doesn’t usually show up on the same day. But months later, sometimes years, it can turn into what’s known as autistic burnout — skills someone had managed comfortably start slipping, and things that used to be manageable stop being manageable.
I see this in referrals more often than I’d like to admit. Someone gets judged ready to move on, support drops, they hold it together by masking as hard as they can, and eventually something gives out. Whoever reviews the case afterwards usually calls it a placement that failed. My reading tends to be different.
What independence should actually mean
To me, independence has less to do with the number of hours on a spreadsheet and more to do with how much say someone has over what’s left of their support. Deciding for yourself how much you can take on any given day matters more than a total does. So does being able to ask for something specific — a lift somewhere, help with an appointment — without that request being held against you at the next review.
An evening with no visitors booked in. Meals on a fixed schedule. Warning before something changes. None of that is scaffolding a good service ought to be dismantling as a matter of course. For plenty of autistic adults it’s the thing holding everything else together, and pulling it away on a timetable because the hours are due to drop rarely leaves someone more independent. Usually it just means they run out of steam sooner than they otherwise would have.
At Bridge, each person’s plan starts with working out, early on, which parts of their established routine can shift and which need to hold steady for a good while longer. We still build the practical skills — budgeting, a tenancy agreement, getting around on their own — but at a pace the person can actually sustain, which isn’t always the pace that makes a six-month review look tidy.
A question worth asking commissioners
Here’s what I’d ask anyone reviewing a case like this: is success being judged on whether the support total went down, or on whether the person is actually getting better? Ideally, those line up but for autistic adults they often don’t. A fast reduction that gets logged as a successful move-on is simple to write up. Someone who stays stable and still recognisably themselves — even though their hours haven’t fallen as quickly as the plan expected — is harder to fit into a commissioning report, and it’s still, in my view, the better outcome. If Bridge has to be judged against one of the two, I want it to be that one.
Where I land on this
I’m not making a case for lower expectations. I’m making a case for being straight about what meeting high expectations actually costs someone, and for letting a person decide how much they mask and how quickly they move, instead of a service deciding it on their behalf.
Anyone wanting to talk through how we build plans around this is welcome to reach out.
Further Reading
Autism and Supported Living: What Works?
Supported Living for Autistic Adults: The ‘Small Things’ That Change Everything
Personalised Support for Autistic Adults in Supported Living
