When I first put the call out for Plushies in the Park, I really didn’t know what it would look like.
I hoped a few people might come.
I hoped it would feel safe.
I hoped maybe a couple of friendships might form.
But I didn’t expect what actually happened.
On the day, we had around 35 young people show up. A lot of them neurodivergent. And a lot of them walking into something that felt really overwhelming.
Some stayed right next to their parents.
Some stood off to the side, not quite sure where to go.
Some were holding onto their plushies really tightly.
And some were honestly on the edge of a panic attack.
If you’ve ever been in that situation, or supported a child through it, you know how big that moment is. Just arriving can take everything they’ve got.
Social situations can be a lot. The noise, the people, the pressure. It’s unpredictable and that can be really hard.
But there was something different about this space.
Every single young person there had something in common.
They had their plushie.
And that mattered more than I think anyone expected.
For these kids, plushies aren’t toys. They’re comfort. They help with regulation. They’re something familiar to hold onto when everything else feels a bit too much.
This is what we call the ESSA community. (Emotional Support Stuffed Animals)
And that shared understanding kind of broke the ice without anyone needing to try too hard.
It started small.
Someone asking, “What’s your plushie’s name?”
Sitting near someone instead of standing alone.
Little conversations that slowly turned into something more.
You could actually see it happening.
Shoulders dropping.
Kids relaxing.
That shift from overwhelmed to okay.
One parent told me their child almost didn’t get out of the car. They were shaking and saying they couldn’t do it. But by the end, they were sitting with other kids, talking and smiling.
That doesn’t happen often.
As an autistic mum with two autistic kids, I felt that deeply. Because those moments? They’re huge.
These are kids who often feel like they don’t quite fit anywhere. Social spaces don’t always feel made for them.
But on this day, they found people who just got it.
No explaining. No pressure. Just understanding.
And that’s what made the difference.
A big part of this event was also about awareness. There’s still a lot of misunderstanding around comfort items like plushies. People see them as something kids should “grow out of”, but for a lot of neurodivergent young people, they’re actually an important support tool.
They help with calming, with regulation, with feeling safe.
From the outside, it might have just looked like a group of young people in a park, walking their stuffed animals around.
But it wasn’t that simple.
It was connection.
It was relief.
It was that feeling of finally not being the only one.
It was a place where they felt safe, understood, and like they finally belonged.
And as it all wrapped up, the question I kept hearing was:
“When is the next one?”
