Independence vs Autonomy
I’ve been thinking a lot about how the goal of support changes when we move from independence to autonomy.
For a long time, independence has been an easy marker to aim for. It’s being able to complete tasks alone, needing less help, managing things without visible support. Those skills matter, and they can be important milestones and over time, I’ve noticed how focusing too narrowly on independence can quietly shape the way support shows up.
When independence becomes the primary goal, support often moves toward reduction. Fewer prompts. Less involvement. Stepping back as quickly as possible. Sometimes that’s appropriate. Other times, it can leave people navigating decisions and expectations without the relational grounding they still need.
When autonomy becomes the goal, support takes on a different role. It might mean staying involved a little longer and not because someone can’t do something, but because they’re still learning what support looks like for them. Support shifts from directing toward collaborating. From prescribing toward offering options. From fading out toward adjusting shape.
In work with young adults with autism, this shift feels especially important. Autonomy grows when people experience themselves as having real influence over decisions, over routines, over how and when support enters their lives. Help doesn’t disappear; it becomes more responsive. Less about proving capability, more about building ownership.
I’ve noticed that autonomy often develops in the in-between spaces. In conversations about preferences. In flexibility around routines. In moments where we slow down long enough to ask rather than assume. These moments are subtle, but they carry weight.
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on how often meaningful support comes from resisting the urge to step back too quickly. From staying present in ways that honor choice and agency, rather than measuring success by how invisible support has become. It’s shifted how I think about “stepping back” is not leaving, but as staying in a way that supports agency.
The longer I do this work, the more it feels like autonomy isn’t something we arrive at and move on from. It’s something we keep making room for, again and again, through attention, patience, and relationship.
