“Shouldering It All: The unspoken Struggle of Special Needs Parents”
Last night, while my son was in group, I watched another mom step outside to make a phone call and smoke a cigarette. She was talking with another adult about something that happened at school with her child, a teenager just like mine. I noticed how she kept glancing through the window to make sure she wasn’t needed inside.
I found myself thinking, You have to step back and let them fly or fall a little. But then I realized—what am I even saying? I was literally sitting in the parking lot for two hours because I didn’t dare go too far, “just in case”. Sure, when the weather’s nice, I’ll head down to the beach for some "me time." But even then, I’m on edge because there’s no signal at the beach. If someone needs me, I wouldn’t know.
This is just one of the countless unspoken struggles we face as parents, especially if we’re raising these incredible kids on our own. Society expects us to have everything under control. Schools, doctors, law enforcement, family—everyone turns to us. We’re all our kids have. We’re their safety net, their calm in the storm. They rely on us for answers, for stability, for everything. And that is such an enormous weight to carry.
When things go wrong, it falls on us. And the mess we have to clean up? It feels like dragging a sack of wet cement up a muddy hill. It’s exhausting. And then there’s the guilt. Oh, the guilt.
So yes, we hover. We step in to catch them before they fall—not just to protect them from getting hurt, but, if we’re honest, to save ourselves from the mess. Sometimes, it just feels easier to do things ourselves.
If we had a community, a solid support system, it might be different. Easier, maybe. But let’s be real: no one signs up for this job. That’s why there’s such a shortage of mental health workers and resources for kids like ours. We’re out here doing it alone, doing the best we can.
And yesterday, for a moment, I forgot that. I forgot the weight we carry every day. And I live it. That realization hit me hard—because if I can forget, what about someone who hasn’t been through it? They can’t possibly understand what it’s like.
It’s a sad, hard truth.
xo,
Amy
