I spoke with someone today who encouraged me to remove words about “failing” from my vocabulary. This was in direct response to how I feel about taking care of my special needs child. I went to her expressing the fact that I feel like I’m failing and have failed him. We had hoped that his school attendance would have improved by now, but it hasn’t. I had hoped that he would be more independent by now, but he’s not. We used to manage hygiene issues, but not so much lately. We just seem to be failing on every front.

My friend helped me to see some perspective. She has a (now) adult child with special needs, and she told me that outsiders can’t see the hamster wheel that I am constantly running around. Unless you are in it, or have experienced it, you have no idea what parents like me face daily.

I thought this was a great analogy for my life and my brain. It’s like a real-life “Groundhog Day,” except it’s not a movie, and I have never robbed a bank, nor do I have any plans to do so. This hamster wheel, or “groundhog day” that is my life is about a million small things, all day, every day: Brush your teeth, take your pills, clean up your mess, change your clothes, wash your hands . . . add onto these small things larger concerns such as school attendance (or non-attendance), anxiety, suicidal ideations, PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance), and the almost always present need for one-on-one attention and support, and it’s no wonder that I’m just running and running and running around this wheel, seemingly getting nowhere.

But, as she pointed out, I’m learning. She explained to me that to have “failed” at something, there must be a “right way” of doing it, and knowledge of what that is. Otherwise, I am not “failing,” I am still learning and doing my best. There is no script or playbook for raising neurotypical children, but at least the systems of the world are setup to support you and them. When it comes to brain function, every brain is different. Which means that, when it comes to raising a neurodivergent person in a world that isn’t designed for them, there is even less of a script or playbook by which to go.

I don’t write these things to complain, or seek pity, but to help myself process, continue to learn, to grow, to take care of myself. Life is rough, complicated, exhausting, and beautiful. It’s okay to be flailing, not failing. Maybe you have a similar situation and you just needed to hear that you are not failing,