Ok, who needs a pep talk?

Ok, who’s had a rough few days (or months/years for that matter) and needs a pep talk?

If you feel like you just want to scream, or you’re just so frustrated and lost, or you feel guilty for being a crap parent, then please read on.

Firstly, let’s all remember, you’re in a situation where you’re doing something completely different here. Parenting a PDAer in a low-demand way is outside most people’s realm of experience. And learning new skills and techniques – re-wiring your brain – when you’re an adult is HARD.

Let’s say your child/young person is in burnout, isn’t leaving the house, and you’re just completely at a loss. You are stuck in your head and nothing you do seems to help them. A good idea is to take step back from your life.

Become an impartial observer for a moment. Take off the parent hat. Bear with me here if you will.

Stop looking at how successful *individual days* were, stop measuring your worth as a parent based on how many times they went to school last week, or how many times they left their room even. Look at how the *week as a whole* went. And if that’s too hard, step back even further and look at the last month. And again, if that’s too tough, look at the last three months.

I’m actually going to ask you to put pen to paper here (or open a word document, or the notes app on your phone).

 Did your child exchange a joke with you? Write it down.

 Did you have a little cuddle, or did they let you kiss their cheek? Write it down.

 Did they tell you something was worrying them? Write it down.

 Did they cope with something a tiny bit better than you thought they would? Write it down.

 Did they ask you a question? Write it down.

 Did they leave the house, if only for a car ride? Write it down.

 Did they go a day without a meltdown? Write it down.

All these tiny, seemingly insignificant moments are evidence of the most important thing you can have with your child.

Connection.

Learning, school attendance, teeth-cleaning, being polite, doing homework…all these things can feel like the most important milestones and markers of successful parenting.

But our children are neurodivergent, they have a nervous system disability, and these things are NOT the milestones and markers which mark our success or failure as parents.

Your relationship with your PDAer, the small connections you make, the understanding you have for them, the gradual trust you build – these are the true markers of your parenting.

The second part of this pep talk is about Progress. And it isn’t linear!

There’s not going to be a neat graph showing an upward line of recovery as your child comes through burnout, or school trauma, or just navigates life in general.

Imagine one of those mazes you get in a kids colouring book or comic, when you have to get from point A to point B, but there are some wrong paths to take which don’t lead anywhere. And you need to start at the beginning again. It’s a windy, twisty path and sometimes it looks like you’re getting nowhere.

But: step back, and you can suddenly see that, despite all the scribbles and wrong turns, you’ve actually conquered quite a bit of the maze. And you will get there in the end.

The third point is this: social media and comparisons. Even PDA parenting accounts like mine or reading other parents of PDAers talk about their children, can leave you feeling sad and frustrated. How did they achieve what they have? Why does their child leave the house and mine can’t?

Don’t forget that you are part of a huge online community of likeminded parents who have ALL navigated serious issues and difficulties with their PDA children, and many (most of) of our struggles are universal. Successes are shared to give inspiration and hope and to let you know that there is always light at the end of the tunnel. Take heart from them and feel seen.

The fourth part of this developing sermon (!) is about you.

Imagine if your role as a parent-carer was a paid job, and you had a manager. You’d fully expect to be given a package of benefits and rights such as a salary, paid holiday, lunch breaks, training, access to HR… etc. Oh, and you’d expect to be able to leave your place of work at the end of the day and return home to relax and switch off.

Now I know of course that this role we carry out isn’t a choice, and it isn’t paid. But can you imagine any other role in the UNIVERSE that is unpaid, gives no breaks, holidays and expects you to live in the place where you work? And I’m not just talking about parenting. I’m taking about being a parent-carer.

And what other role would also expect you to deal with professionals who don’t understand/believe the diagnosis, often blame you, force you to become an expert in current SEND legislation, your rights, advocacy, various therapies and throw in extreme levels of admin and form-filling?

No. Other. Role.

So, on that note, don’t you deserve to have a break now and again?

I know that this may not be possible for you, as it wasn’t for me for many years and is still *really* challenging. You may not have the support system, or the means, or a child who can tolerate your absence, to have any kind of decent respite. If this is the case, all you can do is to find small moments of peace when you can. And if that means letting your child be on a screen whilst you re-centre yourself, scream into a pillow, doom scroll, or (the holy grail) have a quick nap – then so be it.

The intense sense of self-criticism you feel, the creeping feeling that you have somehow ‘caused’ the PDA by your parenting, the guilt when all your child wants to do is game…are all feelings shared by so many of us. And exacerbated by a society that doesn’t understand PDA and causes us to doubt ourselves.

You have no manager to sit down and have a review with and to recognise your hard work and progress, no colleagues to delegate tasks to, no chance of a break, no promotions or financial recognition for the gruelling work you do all day every day. But yet, you get up every day and you go through it all again because you have to. And you love your child. And love comes first.

So anyway, that’s it. I think you’re ace and brave and pretty bloody wonderful, because you’re just a human being in a tough set of circumstances who has very few choices or agency in their life, and yet still you persevere. For what it’s worth, I’m exceptionally proud of you, for all you do for your children.