You know those days where you wake up and it just feels heavy. Maybe the sun isn’t shining, or maybe your spirit just didn’t get the memo that today’s supposed to be “easy.” For my little man and me, those heavy days can turn into a full-blown tornado.
As a neurodivergent child, his world is already running on a different frequency. A tag in his shirt feels like sandpaper, a change in routine is incomprehensible to him. And then there’s me. Your girl. Battling my own challenges with OCD and a mood disorder that sometimes decides to throw a surprise party in my head. When his sensory world explodes and my mind starts popping off, it’s a recipe for a mother son disaster.
I used to just try to power through, or worse, beat myself up for not being “calm enough.” But chile, I am human. I know that’s not always the answer. Over time, I’ve figured out our own little playbook for when the day decides to go completely left. It’s not perfect, but it brings us back to center.
1. The “Perfect Storm” Recognition: Calling a Time Out for Both of Us
The first step is admitting we have a problem. Both of us. It looks like this: his words just…vanish. He gets flustered, his eyes go wide with a bewildered look, and I can see his brain working so hard to make sense of things, but the connection is lost. He’s not throwing a tantrum; he’s going internal, shutting down. And inside my head, the thoughts are racing, the anxiety is creeping, and my patience is gone. Instead of trying to be Supermom and fix him while I’m crumbling, I say it out loud (to myself, or sometimes to him): “Okay, we are both struggling right now. We need a moment.” That acknowledgment helps to bring to light the issue.
2. The Co-Regulated Chill Zone: Finding Calm, Together
Separate corners? Not always for us. Sometimes, we need to find calm in the same space. I dim the lights, grab our favorite weighted blankets, and we might just lay on the couch hugging in silence. No talking. No demands. It’s about physically sharing that quiet, low-stimulated space until our nervous systems remember how to chill. He’s feeling safe next to me, and that helps me slow my own racing thoughts. This is actually the most crucial step for us.
3. Our “System Reboot” Safe Word
As I mentioned, we have a code phrase for when things are too much. “I need a minute/moment”. It’s a no-judgment signal. It means all bets are off on the current situation or issue and we’re pressing pause. For him, it’s permission to retreat without confusion. For me, it’s a direct order to my own brain: stop, breathe, and re-evaluate.
4. Our Sensory Toolkit to the Rescue
You gotta have your go-to’s, right? For him, it’s his noise-canceling headphones, crawling into bed under his blanket, or drawing. For me, it’s a breathing exercises, prayer, or quietly sitting while the feelings fade.
5. Processing the Aftermath: Letting Go of the Manic Guilt
Sometimes, during those really intense moments, my mood disorder might kick in harder. The overwhelm can trigger a manic moment – that racing energy, the irritable words, the feeling of losing control. And when it passes, the guilt? Oohhh, the guilt hits HARD. It’s a struggle. But I’m learning to process it. I talk to my therapist. I explain (age-appropriately) to my son that “Mommy got overwhelmed too, and I’m sorry I yelled.” I remind myself that I’m managing a lot, and while it’s not an excuse, it IS a reason. And then, I let it go. We can’t change what happened, but we can always choose how we move forward. And I’m showing him how to resolve self errors in spite of any challenges he may face.
Being a single mama is definitely a journey. Being a single mama with a neurodivergent kid, while managing your own stuff? That’s next level. But we’re figuring it out. We’re learning to love ourselves through the hard parts, extend grace, and build a life that actually works for us.
Now, for my resilient mamas out there: What’s in your reset toolkit? What helps your family find calm when the day goes left? Drop it in the comments and let’s build this community of real-life strategies!
When I'm over a thing, I thankfully can say that to my son and he knows to give me space or just sits next to me and says "it's ok, momma" I'll sit here and chill with you." That in itself calms me and then we relax until I'm better. 😌🥰😊 Then we're back at it.
When he's not having a good day or moment, he'll tell me he's sad and explains why. 😢😔🤔 We discuss his feelings and talk them through until he's feeling better. And we always end with a big hug. 🤗🫂💖