In my early twenties, I wanted to find permanent employment and spent around three and a half years searching for a job. During that time, I entered Employment Rehabilitation (hereafter: ER) – a process through which a person with a disability can obtain employment with appropriate workplace accommodations.
Despite my efforts, and despite entering the programme solely because of an autism diagnosis with lower support needs, I completed the process without securing employment. Many different factors contributed to this outcome.
No programme is truly well designed for neurodivergent people. Along the way, I encountered many obstacles and injustices that affected me so deeply that this year I declined invitations to participate in two panel discussions and to give a lecture on the topic. By taking part and proposing solutions, I could have continued raising awareness and contributing to improving the system, but at the moment I simply could not cope, so I put it aside. The document in which I had already begun writing about these gaps in the system remains closed until I have fully processed the experience.
Still, I wanted to do something. So I gathered some advice for future rehabilitation participants. It includes the things I would change about the way I approached the process and engaged with it, as well as the things I would keep the same because I believe they served me well. It is easier to write about the lessons I learned by looking inward rather than focusing on the institutions.
PROACTIVITY
When I entered ER, I had very little work experience. I carried a mindset of helplessness, relying heavily on the people around me and on the system. I was full of fear and had very little self-confidence. Looking back, I wish I had taken more initiative.
Today I meet people who contact companies on their own, sometimes even arranging workplace visits without being accompanied by an occupational therapist from their rehabilitation provider. If I were attending interviews today, I would collect certificates, references for previous work, and evidence of my achievements, and I would bring them with me. I would also bring documentation from previous training placements. I might even prepare a CV.
Among people with disabilities, I have not noticed a strong culture of proactivity. Perhaps it is something we could begin creating together.
DIRECT COMMUNICATION
I never spoke openly about what it means to be autistic. If I were starting again today, I would prepare my own document describing the workplace accommodations I need. The rehabilitation provider issues such a document at the end of the training period, but I would also create one myself.
During the training, I would openly explain what I need and why I need it. I also wish I had spoken openly about my diagnosis. It is generally not spoken about. However, I have a friend who is currently going through the process and speaks openly about it, and she has become a role model for me.
Once, my counsellor explained that a diagnosis is personal information and that supervisors at the workplace do not have access to it during the training period. Autism, however, was treated as an exception, and she explained the concept to them. I regret not being present during that conversation.
Autism extends beyond many of the usual frameworks because it is a neurotype, not an illness. We must become our own advocates. It is often difficult to explain that we need certain accommodations because of a particular characteristic we have.
We also have opportunities to connect with others—not only with the rehabilitation provider and the company involved. Looking for employment independently, rather than relying exclusively on the guidance of the rehabilitation provider, may also lead to positive outcomes.
HOPE OR CERTAINTY
At the beginning of my first training placement, I was simply grateful that there were a pathway and hope for someone like me—that there were people standing beside me and working together to help me find a workplace where I could use my talents and feel comfortable. At that point, I did not mind how long it would take before I found employment.
I worked with a company where we tried to find a way to finance my employment. I understood that nothing was guaranteed and that nobody knew what the future would bring. Full of hope, I stayed there for an entire year.
Today, I would advise my younger self differently. I would encourage her to choose a placement where funding is more secure and not to undertake training if there is no realistic prospect of employment afterwards.
Yes, experience has value, but there comes a point where boundaries need to be set. The familiar phrase, “At least you’ll gain experience,” has been repeated so often that it has lost much of its meaning. Besides, I am no longer convinced it always applies.
When I started my second training placement, despite all the experience I had gained, I waited just as long for employment as those who had only just entered ER (unless the value of experience is measured in some other way, such as it being recognised later on).
I cannot tell you what the right decision is. What I do know is that I now understand I cannot always judge what is best for me. Usually, I only realise that after the decision has already been made, when the only option left is to move forward.
STAY INFORMED
Ask questions. Ask again. And then ask some more. Write things down.
Because the system was not designed with neurodivergent people in mind—which often becomes obvious during the process—I believe we need to understand it thoroughly.
Step by step, I eventually reached the point where I knew the ER system inside out. Along the way I was occasionally confused, as most people probably are. But there is one thing that no one can take away from us. We are intelligent, curious, and often accustomed to becoming experts in topics that interest us. Those topics can also include the laws and regulations that are meant to support us—or sometimes fail to do so.
Why do I recommend this?
Knowing your rights and responsibilities can make the path towards your goals much easier. Rights are sometimes violated, and occasionally you have to stand up for yourself. That is why it is important to understand what is happening instead of placing blind trust in the system. Too many people find themselves in situations where they are treated unfairly without even realising it.
Another reason is the way criticism related to work with accommodations and people with disabilities at work is often expressed in our society. Whether the criticism is constructive or more confrontational—although often justified—it carries much more weight when it is based on knowledge. Not only does this allow us to express ourselves more clearly, but the people we address, particularly those working within the system, are more likely to take us seriously.
Through conversations with peers, I have heard about many difficulties within the ER system, and some of them could have been prevented or resolved with a better understanding of how the system works.
Spending months or even years in ER without understanding the difference between sheltered and supported employment, or without knowing how work trials, vocational training, and employment differ and what each of them means for you as a participant, is like studying pastry making while talking about a whisk and a fork as though they were the same thing.
No one is to blame for this. The way information is communicated has enormous room for improvement. Rehabilitation providers also differ from one another, and in many organisations even the staff do not know everything or may themselves have inaccurate information.
I feel genuinely satisfied that throughout my rehabilitation I kept asking questions—especially my counsellor—about every unfamiliar concept, took notes, understood the structure of the programme I was in, and discussed it with others.
Being informed—or at least committed to becoming informed—also provides a sense of security.
Anyone can make a mistake. It is not realistic to expect that everyone else will always have everything under control for you.
Once, during ER, one of the participating institutions mistakenly paid me money that I was not entitled to receive. It was an honest mistake, but it made me realise that if I wanted peace of mind, I needed to read carefully what I was signing, even if I was not responsible for identifying other people’s errors.
And during the very next careful reading of a document, I found exactly such an error—and managed to avoid another problem.
Not everyone will be able to follow my advice, and that is perfectly okay. Some people require more support or need responsibility to be fully transferred to a parent, guardian, or personal assistant.
However, I believe many people find themselves where I once was: capable and strong enough to take responsibility for themselves and their future, but needing just a small nudge and a little guidance.
That is what I hope to leave with you.
Whether I will ever find myself on this journey again—because inflation catches me unprepared, because I start longing for a Christmas bonus, or for some completely different reason—and how faithfully I will follow my own advice, only time will tell.
Today, however, I came across a sentence that deeply resonated with me: “Forgive yourself for not knowing sooner what only time could teach you.”
Good luck!
H.C.