The past month pressed against me like a mountain, each step requiring more strength than I believed I possessed. My husband’s recent surgery (and follow up emergency surgery) hung in my mind—a persistent echo of vulnerability, a reminder of the past year’s relentless challenges. Living with his Graves’ (and enabling him to live well with Graves’ disease) had become our new geography, a landscape we were still learning to navigate. And none of the usual skills I deployed in energy management for burnout prevention worked for me.
My two sons orbited around me—one on the precipice of adulthood, wrestling with the turbulent winds of his senior year, and the other still young enough to need me with the intense, unfiltered dependence of a fourth-grader. Their needs were constant, indifferent to my own exhaustion. Let’s not also forget the complexities of being autistic and my own medical conditions, which I’ve found disabling for the better part of 5 years now. Days bled into each other, a complex tapestry of obligations and emotions. As an autistic mother, I function best with structure, but the world demands constant adaptation. Unexpected changes—rescheduled appointments, spontaneous school events, sudden workflow interruptions—felt like fractures in an already fragile foundation. The sensory landscape was overwhelming: hospital fluorescent lights, endless medical notifications, the perpetual shifting between roles—caregiver, professional, advocate, mother.
Anxiety threaded through my moments like an unpredictable current. Between work calls and preparing meals, even in those rare quiet interludes, doubt would surface. Was I sufficient? Was I doing enough? Holding everything together in the precise way society expects? I often struggle in this area, not feeling “good enough”.
The unspoken narrative of autistic motherhood rarely enters mainstream conversation. As I thought more to my current challenge, I realized that often autistics and autistic mothers even more so mask our challenges; we adapt, we persevere—often silently absorbing the sensory and emotional complexity of our lives. The world sees resilience but misses the intricate internal work. Yet, in a moment of unexpected stillness, I recognized something profound. I wasn’t alone in this journey. I have the resilience and love as an autistic mom to overcome this stressful time.
My husband’s quiet strength, my sons’ emerging independence, my own persistent love—these were not just survival mechanisms, but connections. Belonging wasn’t about perfect performance but about acknowledging our shared human experience of carrying weight, of continuing forward. All I could do was continue to endure, revisit my tools and try as best I can to manage my energy. In a sense, be ok with using my connections and asking for help – something I find incredibly hard to do without feeling like a burden.
There are other autistic mothers out there—feeling stretched and overwhelmed, yet fundamentally committed to love. We understand that showing up isn’t about flawless execution but about genuine presence. We know that hope isn’t always loud; sometimes, it’s a whisper, a subtle acknowledgment that WE ARE ENOUGH.
The past month tested me. It challenged every internal resource. But I traversed its landscape, not perfectly, but authentically. And next week? I will continue. Not because it will be easier, but because I am here, I am capable, and my love transcends any momentary struggle.
Join our Mailing List
Sign up with us now and be the first one to know about our exclusive offers and product updates.
By submitting your information, you`re giving us permission to email you. You may unsubscribe at any time.
Leave a Reply