She spent her childhood in detention. Locked a teacher in a cupboard. Sat in corridors alone while everyone else learned. Missed the last six months of school because nobody wanted her there.She wasn't naughty. She was undiagnosed.Charlie was finally diagnosed autistic at 32 and ADHD three weeks before this conversation. By then, she'd already closed her business to become a full-time carer for her son AJ — non-verbal, tube-fed, PDA profile, sensory processing difficulties. A child the system repeatedly failed until she walked into school and said "help me or this kid's getting taken off me."Before his feeding tube, AJ didn't eat for six weeks. His lips were peeling. He was grey. His ribs were showing. He looked, in her words, dead. And still the support didn't come until she was already broken.Now she's raising three neurodivergent kids — all different, all on the spectrum, all requiring completely different approaches. She's also built Neurospicy, a clothing brand that refuses the puzzle pieces and the sanitised narratives. And she's planning something bigger: a sensory-friendly soft play hub where families like hers can actually exist in public without being stared at.This is what happens when no one catches you. And what it looks like when you decide to build the thing that should have existed all along.