Ramblings: An exhausted mother's version

The neurodiverse household, seasons that break you and the stark truth of it all.

I used to feel bad I complained about how hard motherhood is for me, then I learned about my neurodivergence. I realized motherhood is harder for me than most. I had a consultation call with a therapist recently and she said as a fellow neurodivergent mother raising a neurodivergent child - you wonder why you cannot be like other mothers, why things seem much more difficult for you.

I do not feel bad about writing my very lived and real experience anymore, it is just my life, it just is. I can always put a more positive spin on things, and I often do because it helps me stay sane. If I only focus on the hardness of life, I will drown in it. So, I come back to my tried and true place of being with what is.

I have given up on trying to change how hard life is and I am trying to flow with it to the best of my ability. I am doing it with what feels like little grace, but I learn as I go.

My household is in a season. My son is growing, his essence is becoming more clear. His neurodivergent tendencies are on full display with bright arrows constantly reminding me he is cut from the cloth of his parents.

I used to struggle with accepting the reality my son’s brain works differently, but in learning about my own neurodivergence, I have come to worry less about his. But I also worry, because I am human and his mother. I wonder what the world will teach him to be, I wonder if he will try to fit in, I wonder if I am doing my best to help him be himself when I am utterly exhausted by him.

I hate that, I think there is a narrative in motherhood that promotes we love our children, they are the best, they are the joys, the bright spots, these beautiful miracles.

But raising a neurodivergent child while struggling to understand your own neurodivergence is not just looking into a mirror. It is like looking into a mirror that talks back and I think it even has teeth and claws. You will not for a second forget your child is made in your image, because the things you struggle to accept about yourself, they will place on full display for you.

I feel my child has a map to my insides and he knows exactly where to poke. And listen, any mother or parent reading this probably agrees. I know some of this is simply being a parent, but I assume most people can take this, run with it, and adjust.

I have this vision of what I assume is a neurotypical parent, they are ever patient and calm, they find it all easier. Sure, they get angry, because we are all human. But they are those people who at the end of the day truly find the joy in it. They are not the people who think they should find the joy in but actually rarely do.

And maybe you are neurodiverse and you can find the joy, bless you and teach me your ways. Because most days, I end my parenting feeling like a deflated ballon or a punching bag someone did a number on.

Part of parenting is rising to the task, no matter what.

Part of it is figuring out each season while your are in it.

Part of it is exhaustion.

Part of it is wondering if it will always be this hard.

Will it always be this hard?

The best parenting advice I have EVER received in my short three years was from

Tansie Bennetts-Slater

. She told me something like, you have only known your child for as much time as they have been alive, it takes time to understand them and learn how to support them.

What a permission slip, because I think I am supposed to have it all figured out. I think I am supposed to know how to care for my son when he is growing right before my eyes in ways neither he nor I have ever seen before.

We are figuring it out together.

No matter your neurotype, it is hard to raise a chid. Now so more than ever before in history because of the lack of support and constant stress we are all under to figure out how to survive in a society that sees our only value in how much money we make.

I am not sure I am getting it right, I am not sure I am enjoying myself enough, I am not sure my child is on the right track. I am certain I am selfish and terrible person most days. I am certain I need loads more therapy and self-acceptance to do this thing right.

But here is the unescapable truth…

I do not know what I am going but I am doing it.

I am here.

Mothering, parenting, trying.

Every single day, I show up. I make mistakes. I human. I yell. I forget. I remember. I breathe. I escape. I numb. I learn more. I start again. I feel good about myself. Then, it happens again and again.

Maybe motherhood is just like life. It just is.

I heard the most beautiful thing from Rob Bell recently, and it was something like, we want all the tension of life to be gone, we want predictability, we want our stresses taken away but if that played out in reality, we wouldn’t be living life. All the things we don’t like about life and part of life.

So, we can look at life and grumble - this is life.

Or, we can look at life and remember - this is life.

Just a moment, just a blimp, just what we are doing right here in the here and now.

And no one knows what they are doing, but they are doing it.

Every single day, one wakes up and tries.

That is all we can do.

I am in the trenches with you.

Emma

Welcome to Being in Motherhood, I’m a writer, artist, and mother constantly redefining myself. I write about what it means to be human while navigating motherhood, neurodivergence and living a full creative life. I believe reflection and compassion can change the world, the way we see things, and how we be here.

I invite you to join the Creative Circle, my paid subscriber space. We gather each month to talk about writing and creativity, share what we are working on, and give and receive gentle, supportive feedback. This time together fuels the creative revolution of women whose ideas, words, and self-expressions are birthed around the edges of motherhood.

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