“What a beautiful height he has. His dad is tall, right?”

“Yes, his biological dad was,” I respond calmly.

My son grins. He loves being tall. I know.

Parenting a Neurodivergent Child While Healing from Trauma

I married an abusive man who could switch from doling out love and anger in seconds. The temperature of his coffee could determine how my day was. Most days, I lived in fear. An out-of-place word, a joke or a comment that could be misinterpreted, something my family might say, that would bruise his gentle ego.

I escaped his wrath early. But as a mother, I still wonder — did I, really?

After all, in front of me is our son. Proud and tall as his father.

But I sometimes catch my breath and ask, “What if his father’s height is not the only thing he has inherited?”

My boy is an emotionally intelligent, caring, deeply intuitive chap. He can read your mind and spell your thoughts even before your brain can think them. But his ADHD means that the words are out before he can consider whether the comment is appropriate for the situation.

And then there is the missing switch in the brain that carefully manages your responses, your emotional regulation.

As a girl and woman with ADHD, my emotional dysregulation would mean tears. That is easy, ignorable, harms no one but me!

But when my son’s emotions spiral, the outcomes can be louder, bigger, heavier. Like his biological fathers. And suddenly, I’m standing before a six-foot-tall boy looming over me, saying, “Do what you will.”

Consequences don’t matter. I won’t lie, my insides rattle.

I stand firm in front of the boy I raised. Unwilling to be afraid. Resolute. Brave.

So no one will be afraid like I once was.

But I wonder, is this what neurodivergence looks like?

Or is it, Nature? Rather poor Nurture, as I am often reminded?

How do I explain this to myself?

Each day that I go to bed, I wonder, what is it that I can do to change history?

To make the future different.

Most days, I hope I am enough. Our home, our values, our love will win.

Then there are days like today when I am reminded that nothing is in my control.

Breaking the Cycle

Parenting is hard.

Parenting a neurodivergent child is harder.

Parenting a neurodivergent child who triggers your trauma – that’s indescribably painful.

But there is no giving up, is there?