Parenting is hard.

Parenting kids that are neurodiverse or struggle with mental health is even harder.

Parenting those quirky, emotional kids when you yourself are quirky and emotional? Exhausting.

On one hand, I have a depth of empathy from understanding their struggles, having experienced similar ones myself. On the other, it’s like the blind leading the blind, because I grew up in a world ill equipped to identify, let alone understand kids that were “other”.

When parenting neurodiverse children, the line between supporting and enabling is blurred.

Support is encouraging your child to continue moving forward, learning skills towards the goal of independence and self-reliance. Enabling is protecting your child from negative experiences, thus removing opportunities for growth.

There’s a voice in my head that likes to criticize that I’m enabling my children when I give them extra support.

“They should be able to do it on their own at this age”

“They can tough it out”

“Suck it up, Buttercup!”

“When I was their age, I just figured it out on my own, because I had to”

When I was their age, I was stuck in a trauma response that didn’t allow me to ask for help so I had no other option but to figure it out on my own.

I want my kids to know they can ask for help.

There are times when I’m not sure if I’m enabling or supporting, and I’ve certainly made the wrong judgement call once or twice. Okay, more than twice. Actual number unknown. I’ve let a kid stay home from school because they had a headache, then said kid proceeded to bounce off the walls with exuberant energy and clearly would have been fine going to school. I’ve also sent the same kid to school, only to be called halfway through the day to come pick them up from the nurse’s office.

When I am unsure if I am supporting or enabling, I choose to err on the side of kindness and empathy. I put myself in their shoes. I try to understand the circumstances, and what they may be feeling.

There are also many factors to consider. Did the kid sleep well last night? Is it hot outside? Did they take their medicine this morning? Is this a new experience for them? What are the consequences if I say yes or no? What are the benefits if I say yes or no? If I step in and help here, are there small steps we can take to encourage them to be able to handle this in the future? Is there a different approach we can try instead? If they are already in a place of overwhelm, will they be capable of learning if I don’t step in?

Choosing to step in and help looks like driving them to college for the first week of school, so they can focus on understanding how learning works for higher education, setting them up for success from the beginning, so they don’t give up all together in frustration, then taking steps to empower them to find ways to get to school on their own.

It’s picking up your kid when they call during the last period, overstimulated and over it, because their meds had run out due to the chronic shortages on ADHD medications, making it a nightmare to fill. Could they have made it through the end of the day? Absolutely. By saying yes, however, I am reinforcing that 1) mental health matters, 2) recognizing the signs of reaching their limits and being proactive instead of reactive, 3) autonomy to make decisions regarding self, and 4) establishing trust that I will listen and respect what they say and how they feel.

On the days where I make the wrong call (slim as they are), I know we can try again tomorrow. It might look like breaking it down into smaller bite sized steps or setting up accommodations at school. We may go through five or six different ways of doing the same thing before finding the one that best fits their needs. But we’ll get there. Growth can be measured in inches as well as in feet.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, parenting is HARD.

We have the responsibility of raising fully grown human beings that are confident in who they are and that will take care of this world and each other.

I see you, taking care of your quirky and emotional human beings, and I raise my mug of forgotten lukewarm coffee in solidarity of the great work you are doing. I know it doesn’t feel like it when you are in the weeds, but trust me, you ARE doing great work.

And if you need a mantra, here’s one I used when we were emotionally in the thick of potty training, many years ago: She won’t be sixteen and still in diapers. I repeated that phrase often, usually while curled up in a ball outside the bathroom door, not understanding why the process was so stressful for my undiagnosed autistic child. Sure enough, a few months later, she was successfully wearing big girl undies. Feel free to change it to meet the needs of your specific situation. I mean, you can keep the diaper bit in, but if the kid in question isn’t potty training, it would be a little odd.

Now, hold your coffee mugs high and repeat after me:

May we teach our kids emotional intelligence.

May we teach our kids self-agency.

And most important, may we teach our kids to be kind.