Parenting Neurodivergent Children as a Neurodivergent Adult: A Journey of Growth and Understanding

Have you ever tried to follow a map that's written in a language different from yours, while navigating unfamiliar terrain? That's what parenting can feel like when you're a neurodivergent adult raising neurodivergent children. It's like we're both the translator and the traveler, trying to make sense of an uncharted ocean together.

I've found myself in this position many days - trying to support my children while also navigating my own neurodivergent experiences. Some days, I feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water. Other days, there are moments of profound connection that neurotypical parents might never experience. It's messy, it's beautiful, and it's entirely worth it.

Understanding Shared and Unique Experiences

There's something powerful about looking at your child and truly getting it when they're overwhelmed by a noisy restaurant or they hyperfocus on a topic that fascinates them. I see myself in these moments, and there's a connection that forms without words.

But here's the thing I've had to learn the hard way: my neurodivergence is not my child's neurodivergence. The coping strategies that saved me might not work for them. The sensory inputs that overwhelm me might be completely different from what triggers them. I've made countless mistakes assuming my child would respond like I would, only to realize they're navigating their own unique brain landscape.

Advocating Without Burning Out

Some days, I find that I'm completely dysregulated trying to advocate for my child while managing my own executive functioning challenges. IEP meetings, doctor appointments, explaining to family members why my child needs certain accommodations - it's exhausting. And if you're neurodivergent yourself, you likely already have limited energy reserves to begin with.

I've had to learn to stop holding my breath during this process. What do I mean? Just like we need to exhale to survive, we need to release the pressure of trying to fight every battle at once:

●      I've learned to prioritize which advocacy efforts will make the biggest impact for my child right now

●      When possible, I delegate to my partner or a trusted family member when my own capacity is low

●      I've stopped (or attempt to stop) feeling guilty about setting boundaries when I'm overwhelmed

If I'm not breathing, no one else in my home is either. I can't effectively advocate for my child if I'm running on empty.

Embracing Flexibility and Routine

As neurodivergent people, many of us crave routine and predictability. But life with kids rarely follows a perfect schedule. I've locked myself in my room crying more than once when plans fall apart or routines get disrupted.

What helps me is creating a balance:

●      We have visual schedules and reminders throughout our home

●      I involve my children in creating our routines so they have ownership

●      I've practiced accepting that some days won't go as planned, and that's okay

When I feel myself getting too attached to how things "should" be, I remember that as neurodivergent people, we often seek control as a way to feel safe. But sometimes the most important skill I can model for my child is flexibility when things don't go as expected.

Managing Self-Doubt

The voice of self-doubt is loud when you're a neurodivergent parent. Will my own challenges get in the way of being a good parent? Am I doing enough? Should I be masking more to fit what other parents expect?

I've made countless mistakes and have raised my voice. I've threatened consequences that I knew deep down I couldn't follow through on. I've become desperate in these moments, knowing that no one was actually learning anything productive. So I stop, I breathe, and sometimes I cry.

Here's what I remind myself:

●      It's not just okay but powerful to apologize to my child when I mess up

●      Seeking support isn't failure—it's strength

●      My neurodivergent perspective gives my child something valuable that neurotypical parents can't offer

Creating a Neurodivergent-Friendly Home

Self-care isn't just about taking breaks; it's about creating an environment where we can all thrive. In our home, this looks like:

●      Designated quiet zones with soft lights, lots of blankets, and smells that que safety where anyone can decompress

●      So many sticky notes, dry erase boards, and posters that celebrate neurodivergence because visual cues help both me and my children stay grounded

●      Open communication about sensory needs and emotional states

I've found that when I honor my own neurodivergent needs in our home setup, it naturally creates space for my children to express their needs too.

Celebrating Neurodivergence

Some of the most beautiful moments in parenting happen when I stop trying to force neurotypical expectations on my family. When my child connects deeply with a special interest, when we notice details others miss, or when we find creative solutions to everyday problems—these are gifts.

Self-care is an important part of our survival. If you walked the desert with no water, would you be able to complete the journey? You wouldn't, so why do we skip honoring our neurodivergent needs as if they're not crucial to our livelihood?

Parenting as a neurodivergent adult isn't about being perfect. It's about showing up authentically, breathing through the hard moments, and celebrating the unique perspectives we bring. It requires us to be honest about how we feel and what we need, and when we start to honor this, our children will mirror the same.

We can't change a world built for neurotypical people, but we can create homes where neurodivergence is understood, accepted, and even celebrated.