Parenting is inherently demanding. Regardless of the cheerful snapshots we share on social media, we all face our unique challenges in raising children. Sometimes these hurdles are fleeting, but they are very real. This reality becomes even more pronounced when you’re raising a child with a disability.
My son’s disabilities require my constant vigilance. My mind is never free from thoughts about him or the responsibilities that come with his care. Coupled with the usual concerns of any parent, my mental checklist often looks something like this:
- Is he safe?
- Does he feel understood?
- Did I remember to reschedule his dentist appointment?
- How is he behaving at school?
- I really must stop using food to cope with my emotions.
- Am I doing enough to advocate for him?
- Did I take something out of the freezer for dinner?
- Where did I file that paperwork?
- I need to delete some photos from my phone.
- Should I arrange another meeting with his teachers?
- How can I ensure my other children feel valued?
- Will he ever feel comfortable sleeping in his own room again?
- What day is it, anyway?
- I hope nobody heard that swear word he just let slip in the grocery store.
These racing thoughts can spiral out of control in mere minutes, leaving me feeling overwhelmed. After 13 years, I’ve grown accustomed to operating at a heightened stress level. While I can manage most days, I often find that the stress from parenting a child with a disability takes a toll on my mental well-being.
I feel exhausted, frustrated with unresolved issues, and perpetually at the bottom of my own priority list. My inbox fills up, I notice weight gain (because indulging in sweets is easier than confronting my feelings), and friendships begin to fade. Recognizing these effects only adds to the stress, leading to a never-ending cycle of negativity.
Mothers often struggle to prioritize their own needs, and it seems even more pronounced among parents of children with disabilities. The workload is relentless, and we push on without pause. I know I need a break and more support to achieve it, but the thought of adding that to my already overflowing plate feels overwhelming—so I cope with more treats.
Clearly, this is not a sustainable solution, even in the short term. At some point, I must take a step back and address my own needs to become the parent others perceive me to be. I need to learn how to breathe, relax, and finish the books I start but never complete. It’s essential for me to rediscover the hobbies I loved before embracing the profound responsibility of parenting a child with a disability. Self-care must become a priority.
In the meantime, I’ll continue to share joyful moments online—not to mislead anyone, but because they bring me happiness on days when I struggle to carve out time for myself. I am a work in progress, as we all are.
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In summary, taking care of my mental health is crucial for my well-being and my family’s happiness. I’m learning that prioritizing myself doesn’t make me a lesser parent; it makes me a better one.