If you’re raising a neurodivergent teen, you might not feel like an “expert” in anything.
You might feel like you’re barely holding it together some days — navigating school emails, therapy waitlists, meltdowns, and late-night worry spirals.

But here’s the truth:
Every single day, you’re running an advanced course in advocacy.

Because connection shouldn't come with eye rolls.

Finding ways to bond with your teen can sometimes feel like walking a tightrope. You want to spend time together, but the moment it feels too planned or parent-y, they shut down. Trust me—I’ve been there. But over time, I’ve learned that the best bonding moments come when we’re doing something low-pressure, maybe even a little silly, with zero expectation to “talk about our feelings.”

Games have become that space for us. And not the overly complicated kind or the ones that require a lot of setup. I'm talking about good old-fashioned card games, puzzles, and board games—simple, familiar, and surprisingly fun (even for teens who claim they're “too old” for Connect 4).

Because feeding them shouldn’t feel like just another battle.

Meal planning as a parent is already a juggling act. But when you're raising a neurodivergent child—especially one with sensory sensitivities, limited food preferences, or appetite changes from medication—mealtimes can feel like the hardest part of the day.

I’ve had to throw out more uneaten meals than I care to admit. What worked one week suddenly “tastes weird” the next. Some days, he eats two bites and is done. Other days, it’s non-stop grazing. Sound familiar?

If you're in the same boat, you're not alone—and there are ways to bring a little more ease into the chaos.

There are some weeks where it feels like everything is falling apart. Meltdowns, changed plans, school calls, surprise bills, or just sheer exhaustion can throw our whole world off balance. As a parent—especially raising a neurodivergent teen—you start to realize that you can’t control everything. But you can control some things. And that matters more than we think.

One of the most powerful tools I’ve found to bring calm into our chaos is routine. Not the rigid, schedule-every-minute kind. But the dependable, calming kind. The kind that tells our brains and bodies: you are safe here.

Because the first week back is hard — for both of us.

The first week back at school is never easy. But when you’re parenting a neurodivergent teen, it can feel like walking a tightrope — hoping you’ve done enough, packed the right lunch, and remembered all the supports they’ll need when the overwhelm hits.

We’re feeling it this week. The nerves, the resistance, the tension in the air.

I used to only read for escape — fiction that helped me unwind after long days filled with meltdowns, meals, and messy rooms. And honestly? That kind of reading still matters. But over the years, I’ve started reaching for books that do more than entertain. I’ve started reaching for growth.

Parenting a neurodivergent child has pushed me to confront every part of myself — the impatient parts, the reactive parts, the tired and unsure parts. I realized that if I wanted to parent differently, I needed to keep learning. Not just about ADHD or anxiety, but about myself.

So I started reading non-fiction — slowly, inconsistently at first. But the more I read, the more I noticed something shifting. I began responding instead of reacting. I caught myself mid-pattern and made a different choice. I started leading with curiosity instead of control.

I wake up at 4:45 a.m. — not because I’m a morning person, but because it’s the only time I get to myself.

By 6:30, my son is awake. By 7:15, I’m out the door if I’m headed into the office. Between prompting him to get dressed, brushing my teeth in a hurry, and mentally running through the day, my mornings could feel like total chaos.

But they don’t — at least not always — because I’ve carved out this quiet ritual that happens before the rest of the house stirs.

My routine isn’t glamorous. It’s 90% habit and 10% survival. But this little window of time gives me the emotional reset I need to meet the day with more patience, clarity, and energy — especially when parenting a neurodivergent teen.

Here are the tools I use every morning to stretch, ground, caffeinate, and recenter — even after a night of broken sleep or big feelings.

Because no one hands you a manual when your teenager is struggling.

Raising a teen who’s navigating anxiety, ADHD, depression, or other mental health challenges can feel like walking through a storm without an umbrella. You want to help, but it’s hard to know what’s actually helpful — or where to begin.

Here’s what I’ve learned through trial, error, late-night research, and real-life parenting in the thick of it.

We’re all so busy.

Between work, school, therapy appointments, meal planning, and just trying to survive the day, it’s easy to look up and realize you haven’t had a real conversation with your teen in days. Not just “Did you finish your homework?” or “What do you want for dinner?” — I mean a real moment of connection.

But when you’re parenting a teen with big feelings, big behaviors, or mental health struggles, connection isn’t just nice — it’s necessary. It’s the glue that holds everything together when the wheels are falling off.

Because some days, emotions take the wheel — and we need more than just deep breaths. Raising a neurodivergent teen means navigating some big emotions — theirs and mine. Over the years, I’ve found a few simple, affordable tools that actually help us calm down during meltdowns, overstimulation, or shutdown moments. These aren’t miracle cures, but they’ve made our home feel a little more peaceful when it counts.

When emotions run high—whether it’s a school meltdown, a sensory overload, or just a rough day—breathing might not seem like a solution. But it can be. Breathwork is one of the simplest tools available to help regulate the nervous system, and it’s especially powerful for teens with ADHD, anxiety, or emotional sensitivity.

**Food has become the battleground in our house—**and I never thought it would be.

My teen takes meds that suppress his appetite. He prefers processed food or takeout. And even when I finally make a meal he eats and likes? Next time, he says, “I don’t like that anymore.”

It’s frustrating. It’s exhausting. It’s daily. But I also know this: real food supports his body and his brain. So I’m not giving up—I'm just getting smarter about it.

I used to think I had to choose between a clean house and a connected home. That if I couldn’t keep up with laundry, dishes, and dust bunnies, I was somehow failing. That belief? I’ve let it go. (Okay — I’m trying to let it go.)

Because here's the truth: I live with a teenager who has ADHD and anxiety. And while some people have tidy houses with well-labeled storage bins, I have a kitchen table covered in unfinished puzzles, fidget toys, and a few abandoned cups. I have half-folded laundry on the couch, shoes in the hallway, and a living room that doubles as a crash pad when emotions get too big.

It’s not Instagram-perfect. But it’s real. And it’s ours.

I never thought I'd be the mom planning a tropical getaway. But here we are—getting ready to take my teen on his first real trip for his birthday next year. It'll be an all-inclusive resort somewhere warm (still narrowing down the country), and it’s going to be a lot of firsts for both of us.

First time flying.
First time out of the country.
First time trying to relax while managing anxiety, sensory overload, and a kid who eats about five things total.

So yes, I’m excited. But also? I’m planning the heck out of it—because I want this trip to be a win for both of us.

You don’t need a village. You need the right people.

When people say “It takes a village,” I nod politely. But the truth is, not everyone has a village. Some of us are raising kids, managing meltdowns, juggling jobs, and trying to heal generational trauma — all without the safety net of family support.

If that’s you, I see you. And I want to remind you: You can still build your own community from scratch.

Two years. That’s how long we have before my son starts high school.
And yet… we’re already butting heads over where he’s going to go.

I thought we had time. I thought these conversations would come later. But here we are—debating school options, boundaries, bus routes, friend groups, and what really “matters” in a high school. Spoiler alert: we don’t always agree.

Teen boys are often caught in the in-between — no longer little kids, but not quite adults. They’re juggling school, friends, growing independence, and big feelings (even if they don't always show them). Wellness might not be at the top of their priority list, but this stage of life is the perfect time to build habits that stick.

Here’s how we approach wellness in our house — with grace, real talk, and a whole lot of patience.

Because Some Days, Just Getting Out the Door Feels Like a Victory

School mornings in a house with a neurodivergent teen? Let’s just say it’s not for the faint of heart. If your mornings look anything like mine, you’re juggling lost socks, emotional landmines, and a clock that seems to speed up every time you blink. And mood swings? They hit like pop quizzes — no warning and always at the worst time.

If your weeknights feel like survival mode, you’re not alone. Between school meltdowns, therapy appointments, and last-minute homework battles, making a fresh dinner every night just isn't happening in my house. That’s why Sunday meal prep saves me.

Let me say it louder for the moms in the back, the moms in the trenches, the moms crying quietly in the bathroom behind a locked door — You’re not failing. It’s just hard.