There is comfort in the known. The organization and established routine can be a self-soothing mechanism. Linus’ old security blanket or the eyes on a screen watching the same YouTube videos over and over or that one King of the Hill or Simpsons episode that strikes the correct chord are familiar and safe. It is the reason why we cocoon ourselves in the comfort of classic movies or familiar stories– we like how it makes us feel. Stepping outside of the known can be a scary endeavor for anyone and this is especially true for the neurodivergent mind. Just as it is very difficult to assess someone else’s pain (physical or psychological), it is exceedingly tough to quantify the grief or sense of loss when a key part of our routine is no longer an option.
My first resident camp experience was in the Blue Ridge Mountains on a beautiful tract of land that spanned thousands of acres. We stayed in old green canvas tents that evoke a certain smell that still lingers when I think about it. There was a climb up from the lake on a ramshackle path with partially askew rocks to keep the trail from washing out. The trading post boasted a soda fountain where the ice was at a premium and the soda always came out with just a little too much syrup and not quite enough carbonation. We loved it. It was hard work, the food was mediocre, but the team we had and the positive impacts we had galvanized my belief that camp truly was a transformative experience that I wanted to be a part of my life. Sadly, like many summer programs, this camp closed during the COVID pandemic and never re-opened. The lake is there, the hill is there but there are no kids running to the trading post and no staff making memories in the same way anymore.
Even though it had been years since I was physically there, after all Camp Sequoia is my home now, recognizing that what was once a vibrant dynamic camp now sits largely empty makes me grieve in ways that are very difficult to articulate. Similarly, change can feel overwhelming for kids who are neurodivergent. Whether their favorite camp ends, a sports team moves away, or a treat they love disappears from the store, these changes can feel like a big loss.
Children with ADHD, autism, or other developmental differences often rely on routines and familiar things to feel safe. So, when something changes, it can feel confusing, upsetting, or even scary. But the good news is, with the right support and understanding, we can help them get through it and become stronger.
Change usually means something familiar is gone, like a person, place, routine, or something that feels comforting. For example, studies show that neurodivergent students often feel more anxious when school changes because they lose the structure they’re used to and face new sensory challenges.
It’s not about being stubborn. Their brains react strongly to things they can’t predict. That’s why our job isn’t to force them to “just deal with it,” but to help them adjust with patience and support.
Tools like visual schedules, clear routines, and quiet, calm spaces can really help. Even something simple like a calendar showing what’s coming next can make a big difference and help them feel more in control.
If you know a change is coming, help the child get ready. You can use simple stories, countdowns, or pictures to explain what’s going to happen.
Example: “This is the last year that Camp Lee Mar is open”. Next summer, we’ll try a new camp. We can find it together.”
Research shows that talking about change early and using visual aids can make transitions easier and less stressful for kids with neurodivergent brains.
Change often means loss of structure, known people or environments, and sensory or social comfort. For neurodivergent children, transitions are often accompanied by elevated anxiety or distress: for instance, studies of school transitions show increased stress for autistic children adjusting to a new environment. What helps is understanding that this is not just “being upset” but a neurological and emotional response to diminished control and greater uncertainty.
Visual supports, predictable scaffolding and sensory‐aware practices help buffer these reactions. For example, using visual schedules or “what happens next” tools have been shown to support changes in routine for autistic children.
Here are recommended strategies for children and caregivers facing change or loss:
When a neurodivergent child faces change or loss—whether big (camp closing) or seemingly small (desert gone)—the key is deliberate, structured support: predictability, emotional validation, sensory scaffolding, social connection and strength-based reflection. These strategies don’t just help them “get through” the change—they build resilience for future transitions, and reinforce the core message: “You are supported, you have choices, your brain works differently and that is a strength.”
By staying anchored in connection and research-informed practice, our caregivers and educators can transform change from a threat into an opportunity for appropriate healing and growth. At Camp Sequoia, we build an intentional community designed to give our campers the opportunity to become the best versions of themselves whatever change has brought them to the Camp Sequoia family.