Self-Care When You're Barely Holding It Together: A Real Talk for Mums of Neurodiverse Kids
Yesterday, I was exhausted. Like, bone-deep, could-barely-keep-my-eyes-open exhausted.
I’d been juggling work, homeschooling my 14-year-old neurodiverse son for close to a year after yet another school in New Zealand "excluded" him for “behavior issues” (read: unsupported neurodiversity), and keeping my 17-year-old neurotypical son on track too. Thank goodness Master 17 has now finished school! Add in the Ministry of Education pressuring me to force Master 14 back into a mainstream school that’ll just make everything worse, and I was caught in what I now recognize as the fight mentality trap—a draining cycle of battling systems that’s left me hopeless and on edge.
Sound familiar?
If you’re nodding along, I see you. You’re not alone in this—and I’m not here to guilt you into some unattainable wellness routine. I’m here because I’ve lived this chaos, and I’ve realized something: even if the idea of self-care feels laughable, it's actually the key to escaping that trap, even when it feels impossible.
Raising a neurodiverse teen isn’t like parenting in those glossy Instagram posts—and it doesn’t get easier as they get older.
High school has turned our lives into a whirlwind of advocacy, unpredictability, and love so fierce it hurts. My 14-year-old’s been failed by systems that don’t get him, while my 17-year-old—fresh out of school and thankfully self-sufficient—steps in when I’m stuck at the office. I lean on him more than I’d like, and the guilt gnaws at me—he’s growing up fast, just like I had to, and it sucks to see that cycle repeat.
Yesterday, the idea of carving out time for myself felt laughable when “me-time” was a quick shower before collapsing into bed.
But here’s what I’ve learned the hard way: the fight mentality trap—constantly struggling against external pressures—kept me locked in exhaustion.
Self-care is crucial to breaking free, but let’s be real: when I say self-care, I’m not talking about spa days or hour-long meditations—our lives don’t work like that. Don’t get me wrong—I get up at 5 a.m. just to squeeze in meditation, and I’d love a spa day, but I honestly can’t remember the last time I stopped long enough for either consistently.
For us, self-care isn’t a luxury; it’s the oxygen mask we need to show up for our boys. Let’s talk about why it matters and how we can weave it in, bit by bit, without feeling like we’re failing at one more thing.
Why Self-Care Isn’t Selfish (Even When It Feels Impossible)
For a long time when the kids were younger, I used to think self-care was selfish. With a neurodiverse 14-year-old who needs me to fight schools, advocate for supports with local members of parliament, then teaching him at home, and being his safe space—how could I justify time for myself when I’m already stretched thin and leaning on my 17-year-old too much? That fight mentality trap had me in its grip, fueled by love but draining me with every battle. Guilt would hit the second I even thought about pausing to breathe.
But here’s what shifted my mindset: when I’m depleted from fighting in the trap, I’m not the mum I want to be. I’m short-tempered, overwhelmed, and stuck in survival mode. My boys picks up on that tension like a radar—especially my neurodiverse son—and it ripples through our whole family.
Lately, I’ve been rethinking the word “enough.” The overwhelming sense that I get as a parent of a neurodiverse child is that I'm not doing enough for him...this is what I get when I talk to other neurodiverse parents too. But what if it’s not a judgment, but a process—Emotions Naturally Occurring Until Growth Happens?
It’s a little anagram that reminds me “good enough” isn’t about perfection; it’s about letting my emotions flow and trusting growth will come.
Self-care isn’t about escaping our responsibilities, it's how we escape the fight mentality trap and refill our tanks so we can show up as the grounded, loving parents our kids deserve. Self-care shifts us from constant struggle to a steadier presence and for those of us raising neurodiverse children and teens, it’s not just nice-to-have; it’s a lifeline.
When we’re steady within ourselves, we’re better equipped to handle the school battles, the homeschool chaos, the unpredictable moments. And here’s the truth: our kids don’t need us perfect—they need us present. Even a tiny moment of care for yourself can shift your energy enough to make a difference.
Strategies That Actually Fit Our Messy, Beautiful Lives
Forget the generic advice for neurotypical mums—bubble baths and journaling marathons don’t cut it when you’re homeschooling a teen who’s been rejected by schools or arguing with bureaucrats.
Sure I love journaling, but realistically that looks like a notebook tucked into my bag where I can quickly jot down what's bothering me or more likely what I need to remember to do for my son!
Here are some practical, gradual steps tailored to our reality. Start where you can, guilt-free, and build from there. These aren’t “one-size-fits-all”—they’re starting points for your unique chaos.
1. The 60 Second Reset
When you’re mid-storm—maybe after a call with your local Ministry of Education or school —take one minute. Close your eyes, breathe deep, and say, “I’m doing enough. I am enough!” It’s not about fixing it all—it’s about grounding yourself for the next moment. I did this yesterday in the car
before leaving work after a tough morning trying to coordinate homeschool over the phone, while doing my job as well, and it broke the traps grip a little more. Why it helps: It lowers your stress in real-time, which your kids will feel too.
2. Hijack the Mundane
You’re already showering (hopefully!) or making coffee. Turn those into micro wins. In the shower, let the water wash away one worry—just one. While the kettle boils, stretch your neck or whisper, “I’ve got this.” It’s not extra time; it’s reclaiming what’s there. Why it helps: It builds a habit without pressure, and those wins stack up. A little hack that helps with this is to set your phone lockscreen as an image with a reminder on it, so that everytime you look at your phone, you see that reminder that you've got this! This helps by building a habit of reassurance and self confidence without pressure, helping you to step out of the fight trap one small win at a time.
3. The "No" Experiment
Say no to one small thing this week—something that drains you. Skip that extra email to the school or let the dishes sit. Use that space to sit still or sip a calming tea. Why it helps: It’s a quiet rebellion against the “fight mentality” trap, freeing energy for you and your family.
4. Anchor to Your Kid's Routine
Our neurodiverse kids often need predictability—use that. When your child's working on a homeschool task or your other child is off doing his own thing, take five minutes nearby. Doodle, breathe, or flip through a printable affirmation card (shameless plug—I’ve got some on my site!). Why it helps: It’s woven into your day, so it feels doable.
5. Feel the Feelings (No Journal Required)
We’re emotional beings—especially us Projectors by our Human Design—and bottling it up fuels burnout and complete absorbtion in the fight mentality trap. No fancy workbook is needed for this one!
Cry in the bathroom, vent to a voice memo, or tell the universe, “This is hard.”
My personal favourite is to crank the stereo up in the car on the way home from work, or to picking up your child, and singing at the top of my lungs to my favourite songs. I'm sorry to whoever is driving next to me though!
Whatever you choose, let it out, then let it go.
Why it helps: Releasing pressure has basically the same effect as a steam geyser, it releases the pressure and keeps you from boiling over, and the bonus is your kids get a calmer you.
The Ripple Effect: Why This Matters for Them Too
Here’s the magic: self-care breaks the fight mentality trap’s cycle.
I’ve mentioned this before, and it’s so important I’ll say it again: our kids feel everything around them. Your neurodiverse child or teen is so finely attuned to energy that they pick up on it like an amplifier and reflect it back to you. When you shift energy, they feel that shift too.
Not only that, but your self-sufficient kids get a mum who’s less frazzled—and maybe you end up with a little less guilt to carry too.
You’re modeling that it’s okay to pause, to be human, to not fight every battle—like the ones with schools that don’t get it. It's a powerful visual lesson for our neurodiverse children or teens, who (if your child is anything like mine) need help learning regulation strategies.
Over time, those micro-moments become a foundation of peace—not perfection—that holds your family together.
I’m not promising you’ll feel brand-new overnight. I still collapsed into bed last night, and that’s okay. But yesterday, after wrestling with all this, I took two minutes to stretch and breathe, and I felt lighter.
Start with what you’ve got—30 seconds, a “no,” a stolen sip of coffee—and watch it grow.
You’re not alone in this exhaustion—not with failing schools, not with homeschool battles, not with the guilt of leaning on one kid to lift up another. We’re in this together, and even the tiniest step toward yourself is enough—Emotions Naturally Occurring Until Growth Happens.
You’ve got this—not because you’re superhuman, but because you’re you.
