Parenting a neurodivergent child demands heightened levels of patience, presence, and vigilance—every single day. There are no days off.
By elementary school, my son was having multiple meltdowns each day. Sometimes the triggers made sense. Often, we were completely blindsided. We were walking on eggshells constantly.
We kept up appearances. We went on vacation. We attended family celebrations. But before any event, my husband and I would quietly decide who would remove our son during a meltdown and who would stay behind with our daughters. Nothing to see here, folks.
At seven, my son was diagnosed with ASD, ADHD, and generalized anxiety. Finally, we had a name for what ailed him. I poured all my energy into “fixing” him—visiting medical doctors, naturopaths, nutritionists, chiropractors, therapists, trying special diets, supplements, medications, and even neurofeedback.
We embraced the parenting advice built on rewards and consequences, but his behavior continued to escalate. By age twelve, my son was on his ninth therapist, who told us that weekly talk therapy wasn’t enough and recommended residential treatment.
To date, my son has been in three residential programs. Each one helped in some way. He gained tools for emotional regulation. I gained understanding. I began to see that my son wasn’t broken—he was struggling to navigate a world that wasn’t built for him.
Through this journey, I learned about validation, reflective listening, and accountability. I was encouraged to stay present, attune to subtle cues, and hold firm boundaries. It made sense in theory. But in reality, I was so depleted that I couldn’t be the mother he needed.
Years of navigating meltdowns, walking on eggshells, researching, scheduling, and maintaining the façade left me exhausted, anxious, and isolated. The emotional labor of parenting a neurodivergent child can lead to compassion fatigue—deep emotional, physical, and spiritual exhaustion. Finally, there was a name for what ailed me.
When my son lost control, I would drown in the emotional torrent right along with him—unable to offer the steadiness he needed. When I realized that I was as dysregulated as he was, I committed to doing whatever it took to become someone he could feel safe with. I stopped trying to control his behavior and started examining my own—my nervous system, my triggers, my reactivity. I focused on the only thing I could control: me.
This was the self-care I truly needed. Not spa days. Not bubble baths. Real regulation.
For this kind of self-care, I didn’t need to spend a dime or leave my house. I allowed myself to sit still in my body and feel how overwhelmed I was. I practiced gratitude, meditation, and breathwork. I found OPLM support groups and, for the first time since this journey began, I felt seen, understood, and accepted. I discovered mindful self-compassion and began learning how to be present without judgment—of my son and of myself.
My self-care ritual has taken years to develop and continues to evolve. Some mornings, I don’t want to wake up an hour early to meditate, but sitting with my own discomfort each day has made it easier to sit with his later. Some evenings, I want to collapse on the couch and escape into Netflix, but instead, I log on to a support group. It refuels me and reminds me I’m not alone.
Breathwork steadies me when I feel myself starting to spin out—and as I regulate, he feels it. We still have hard days. I still have moments when I don’t get it right. But more often now, I can pause, stay steady, and show up for him.
Taking care of myself was never a luxury. It was the only way forward.
Shelley lives in Ventura, CA, with her husband and three children. A Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetist with 27 years of experience, she is also a Certified Holistic Health Coach, Clinical Nutritionist, and Shamanic Intuitive Coach. Her 16-year-old son’s journey with behavioral challenges and neurodivergence has taught her the importance of self-growth, mindful detachment, and supporting rather than trying to “fix” him. She has found deep support through OPLM, cultivated a daily practice of mindfulness, self-compassion, and gratitude, and proudly serves as a peer parent. She is also the founder of The Parent Peace, which offers retreats for mothers navigating the challenges of parenting neurodiverse children.