I would just like to say that I have no idea what I am doing. I have three neurodivergent kids. They are wonderful, and they are a lot. There are things that typical children can handle or try to do, that mine either cannot or, at the moment, simply will not.
When I was pregnant I hadn’t heard about sensory issues. I had heard of autism, but I didn’t really understand what it was. I knew that one of the kids in my taekwondo class was diagnosed as autistic. He was a fun boy who struggled to focus and was always moving around, asking questions. If I had known what autism actually was and what might have been going on in his head and body, maybe I could have helped him more in class. But I was a college kid who, for some reason, was entrusted with running a taekwondo class when my teacher had some life things happen. I didn’t know anything about early childhood development or how to work with neurodivergent kids.
Actually, that’s sort of how I feel now. Like I’m back in that taekwondo class, trying to help my neurodivergent kids succeed in whatever they want to do while also just letting them be kids in a world that doesn’t seem set up for them.
Therapy was great, for a while. We were in it for about three years. All my boys were in physical, occupational, and speech therapy. But then their therapy center rebranded, and suddenly all their therapists were gone. We got new therapists, and they changed almost weekly. Progress stopped. The boys started resisting going. My husband wasn’t totally on board with therapy to begin with, and the constant changes only solidified his fears that it wasn’t actually helping.
So, we stopped. And now, my entire support network is gone.
I don’t have friends. I tried joining a neurodivergent homeschool moms group in my area, but we all had so much going on that we could never actually meet. Which is ironic because we probably all needed that connection more than anything.
Now, it’s just me, scouring the internet to learn how to be my kids’ therapist. I try to find ways to continue their therapy goals without making them feel like something is wrong with them. I keep thinking, ‘Can I do this? Or am I being arrogant, thinking I can replace what trained therapists do?’
But at the same time, what was therapy? An hour session where I tried to remember everything they said so I could keep it going at home throughout the week. If that’s all it was, can’t I just… keep doing that? I don’t know. It feels like a question of, ‘Am I messing up my neurodivergent kids?’
And here’s another truth: I don’t know how my kids are going to grow up and navigate adulthood. I’m not saying that to doubt them. I hope they’ll adapt and thrive. But it’s going to be harder for them. The world is not set up for them.
I rolled with some pretty big metaphorical punches growing up. Did I handle everything well? No. But I adapted. I survived. My neurodivergent kids, though—they don’t just need to survive. I want them to thrive. But how do I teach them to thrive in a world that is sometimes just too much, too loud, too confusing?
So, yeah. I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’m trying. And maybe that’s all I can do right now.