The Power of "Yet"

There are days when it feels like nothing is changing.

The same struggles.

The same crises.

The same worries keeping you up at night.

And yet. That word matters.

For individuals with Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorders (FASD), development doesn’t follow a straight path. Some skills show up right on time. Others are years behind. A young adult might reason like a teenager in one area, a child in another, and show deep insight somewhere else entirely.

That scatter is exhausting to live with and hard to explain. It can feel like two steps forward, three steps back. In the middle of a crisis, it’s easy to believe this is how it will always be.

Yet makes space for change, even when it’s not visible.

• “He can’t manage money… yet.”

• “She can’t regulate her emotions… yet.”

• “They can’t live independently… yet.”

The brain keeps growing well into the late twenties, especially in areas tied to impulse control, emotional regulation, and reasoning. As that growth happens, things start to shift. Slowly. Unevenly. Imperfectly. But meaningfully.

I’ve seen it firsthand.

My daughter is 26. In the past year or two, we’ve watched her emotional regulation settle. Her patience has grown. She shows insight she didn’t have before. Even her math skills are coming along. It’s not sudden or linear. But it’s real.

And I see it in my own life too. I was diagnosed with FASD last year, at 56. Looking back, I can trace how many of my hardest struggles began to shift in my thirties. That growth didn’t stop. In many ways, I feel like I’m in my prime now—if you don’t count all th aches and pains.

These changes don’t come from trying harder. They come when the brain is ready.

That doesn’t make the road easy. Crises still happen. Supporting someone with FASD means walking through seasons of chaos, fear, grief, and exhaustion. Caregivers and professionals carry a heavy load, especially when systems are slow, supports are thin, and the future feels uncertain.

But today is not the final chapter.

Hope means getting through today while leaving room to believe tomorrow might change.

• It means staying regulated when things fall apart.

• It means staying curious instead of judgmental.

• It means trusting that growth is happening—even when we can’t see it.

So if you’re in a hard season right now, let yourself borrow this word:

Yet.

Your child is still growing.

Your young adult is still becoming.

This moment does not define the rest of their life.

Hold on.

Breathe.

Keep showing up.

Things can get better.

And for many of us, they truly do. Just not yet.