NeuroDivine

A Paw to Hold When Disappointment Creeps In

Otto the autism support bear made a quiet pilgrimage to Belfast this week. Tucked safely in my bag, he travelled with me to the museum, where I’d hoped to see the full splendour of Girona’s treasures. But the salamander—my favourite—was absent, undergoing conservation. I felt a flicker of disappointment. Not devastation, not overwhelm. Just that subtle shift when expectation meets reality and doesn’t quite align.

Otto didn’t leap out with excitement. He poked his head out only a few times, as if sensing that this wasn’t a day for grand gestures. It was a day for staying close. For noticing. For holding on.

I wasn’t overwhelmed, not exactly. But I could feel the edges of it—like mist gathering at the corners of my mind. That’s when I reached for Otto’s paw. Soft, familiar, grounding. A reminder that support doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it’s a quiet presence in a museum bag. Sometimes it’s a paw to hold when the salamander is missing and the world feels slightly off-kilter.

Neurodivergence often means navigating these subtle emotional landscapes. Not every moment is dramatic. Not every challenge is visible. But the need for connection, for comfort, for something—or someone—to hold onto, remains.

Otto didn’t fix the disappointment. He didn’t conjure the salamander back into its display. But he helped me stay present. He reminded me that it’s okay to feel a little off. That support can be soft. That noticing the absence is part of honouring the whole.

So here’s to Otto. To museum visits that don’t go as planned. To paws held quietly in the face of almost-overwhelm. And to the gentle companions who help us name what we feel, even when we’re not quite sure what that is.