What My Autistic Son Taught Me About Myself

When we got his diagnosis in 2020, in the height of COVID, I thought I was learning how to support my autistic son, but somewhere along the way, I started learning about me too.

When your child experiences the world differently, you don’t just adjust routines, buy all the books or read new research. You start questioning your assumptions about success, behaviour, motivation, and even what it means to be “doing okay.” I used to measure days by what we got done. Now I notice how we feel inside those moments. I’ve learned that connection matters more than compliance, that regulation comes before expectation, and that our nervous systems speak louder than any parenting book ever could.

There were times when I was stretched thin, advocating, explaining, protecting, holding space for meltdowns that weren’t “bad behaviour” but real distress. But my son quietly taught me self-compassion. He showed me that rest isn’t a reward, that overwhelm is not weakness, and that honouring your own neurodivergent brain (whether you have a diagnosis or not) is part of being a good parent.

What helps me when things feel heavy

Here are a few gentle practices that have made a difference:

1. Sit with the struggle, don’t rush to fix it.

Sometimes I name what I’m feeling out loud: “This is hard right now.” No solutions. Just truth. It calms my body more than pretending I’m fine. This was a huge hurdle to overcome for me, to instantly try to fix things, make things better - ever the people pleaser. When I stopped, things resolved in much less time.

2. Shrink the day.

On overwhelming days, I don’t plan a week, I plan the next 20 minutes. Drink Tea (lots of it). Breathing. One small task. Then another. For my frazzled and overwhelmed ADHD Autistic brain, this is critical. I cannot plan too much or else nothing gets done.

3. Regulate before you reason.

If my body is buzzing, my brain can’t think. The pre-frontal cortex is not switched on, when you are in the ‘fight or flight’ mode. A walk, deep pressure, slow exhale breathing, or stepping outside changes everything. One thing my son loves is a popsicle if we have any, and I like to hold ice, or run my wrists under really cold water when breathing slowly.

4. Rewrite the story in my head.

Instead of “I’m failing,” I practice saying, “I’m learning.” Instead of “This shouldn’t be so hard,” I try, “This is hard, and I’m still here.” When we fall prey to the victim mentality, it serves no one. Accept that you are having a hard time, your child is having a hard time, and admit when times are tough. This is the basis of a growth mindset,

5. Care for the caregiver.

Your nervous system is the environment your child grows in. Sleep, hydration, quiet, creative time, and safe people aren’t luxuries, they’re regulation tools. I have made meditation and breathing exercises, and even yoga a daily practice because I know it works for me. Find your calm and go to it regularly.

A comfy place to rest with a hot drink and book

Parenting a neurodivergent child is not about fixing brains. It’s about building understanding, theirs and ours. My son didn’t just change the way I parent. He changed the way I listen to myself, the way I rest, and the way I measure what truly matters.

If you’re in the thick of it right now, I see you. You are not behind. You are becoming. And that’s more than enough.