I applied for something a role I really wanted and I didn’t get it, and do you know what, when I got the feedback back, they were right, and that’s the bit that hit me the most because I couldn’t even argue it, I could see exactly what I’d done. So she said she loved my energy on a recent group call I joined, loved how I came across, felt really drawn to me… and then she read my responses and it just didn’t match that at all, she said it felt like AI, really formal and not aligned with how I showed up. And I was just sat there like… for fuck’s sake, because I knew, I knew exactly what had happened. I went straight back into what I can only describe as my Social Worker brain, like structured, professional, report-writing mode, and I didn’t even think about it, I just defaulted, questions… answers underneath… Google doc… the whole thing like I used to do for court reports. And this is where my brain does what it does… because I’m dyslexic, because of how I was trained, because of masking if I’m really honest… I have this “safe” way of communicating that sounds right, sounds professional, ticks the boxes…Plus with my Autism I mirror things that I see, things like dashes and dots. …but it’s not actually me. And I’ve done SO much work on using my voice, like really using it, showing up as me, saying things how I actually say them, not overthinking every word… and then on one thing, one simple task, I just slipped straight back into that version of me that knows how to be accepted… but doesn’t actually reflect who I am now. That’s the bit that peed me off. Not that I didn’t get it… but that I abandoned myself in that moment without even realising. And I think this is where neurodiversity comes into it in a way people don’t always talk about… that default settingthat maskingthat “this is how I SHOULD say it” voice it’s fast… it’s automatic… and it often kicks in when something matters. So I messaged her back and I just owned it, explained it properly, didn’t try and dress it up, just said yeah… that’s exactly what I did.

The constant balancing act between giving your child freedom… and keeping them safe. Yesterday was one of those days that left me lying in bed thinking, I thought we had turned a corner. Parenting a neurodiverse child isn’t always about behaviour. It isn’t always about rules. Quite often it’s about the gap between knowing the rule and understanding the risk. My daughter knows the rules. She can repeat them back to me perfectly. But when impulse control, curiosity and literal thinking collide, that is when things become complicated. She can think something and act on it almost instantly. There is no pause, no weighing things up first. Just action. And that leaves me standing there trying to hold the line between compassion and consequence. I don’t want to control my daughter. I want her to have freedom. I want her to explore the world and grow into who she is meant to be. But freedom only works when the understanding is there to go with it. And when your child’s brain processes the world differently, that understanding doesn’t always arrive at the same time as everyone else’s expectations. That is the part of parenting neurodiverse children people don’t talk about enough. The constant balancing act. The emotional weight of trying to protect them from things they don’t fully understand yet. It’s not about being a strict parent. It’s about being the safety barrier when their brain doesn’t yet recognise the danger. And that can feel incredibly heavy to carry on your own. This is exactly why I created Mums Embracing Neurodiversity. Because these are the conversations so many parents are having behind closed doors, often thinking they are the only ones struggling with it. They’re not. And no mum should have to carry that weight alone.🥰

Do you say “Don’t be rude. Give them a kiss.” Or do you listen? This might seem like a small thing. But for neurodivergent children especially, personal space and physical boundaries matter a lot. Their nervous systems often experience the world more intensely. Touch. Noise. Expectations. Proximity. Everything can feel amplified. Yet as adults we sometimes override those signals without even thinking about it. We tell children to ignore their instincts. We tell them to comply. And then we wonder why so many adults struggle with boundaries later in life. I shared a video today talking about why personal space and consent matter so much for neurodivergent kids. Would love to hear your thoughts on this. And if you're a mum navigating neurodiversity, I’ve created a space called Mums Embracing Neurodiversity where we talk about these things openly.

One thing people often say about me as a parent is that I’m very open with my kids. Honestly… they’re right. People have been shocked before when they hear the conversations we have in our house. But the reason is simple. I would always rather my children ask me the question than go looking for the answer somewhere else. Especially online. When I was a Social Worker, I worked with many teens, naturally the topic of sex came up often. I remember one boy in particular, the topic of sex was rife for him and his friends. The boys were talking about things they’d heard, things they’d seen online, and a lot of it wasn’t exactly accurate. At one point a few of the of the mums said to me, “Can you talk to our sons? Because we don’t even know how to start that conversation.” So one afternoon we did. I bought a load of condoms, grabbed some bananas, and we sat there talking about bodies, relationships and what actually happens as you grow up. The boys made jokes, of course they did. They were teenagers. But we laughed, we talked, and by the end of it something shifted. The conversations became normal. This lad even told me later that when things came up at school he already understood what was happening, because we had already talked about it. This was the same for my own children. You see for me, this has never been about awkward conversations. It’s about safe conversations. Because if children don’t feel they can ask their parents, or other safe adults around them the questions, they will still go looking for answers. They just won’t always find them in the right places. And when you’re raising neurodiverse children, those conversations become even more important. Literal thinking, curiosity, and the internet can be a very complicated mix. That’s one of the reasons I created Mums Embracing Neurodiversity. Because parents need somewhere they can talk honestly about these things. Without judgement.Without shame.

Not a dramatic breakdown. Not shouting. Not chaos. Just… quiet. The kind of quiet where a nervous system has gone offline because it’s taken one too many hits. I was on a call the other day with a mum. And honestly… it broke my bloody heart. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t dramatic. She wasn’t even crying. She was in shutdown. I could hear it in the pause. In the way her brain couldn’t quite grab a thought and hold it long enough to say it out loud. Everything had become too much. Not the big things. The tiny things. A message. A noise. A decision One more demand. Each one just tipping her nervous system a little further over the edge. And the worst part? She felt like she couldn’t talk about it. Because every time she tried before… it got brushed off. “Everyone finds parenting hard.” “Just take a break.” "You’re overthinking it.” But here’s the bit people don’t get. Parenting neurodivergent kids when your own brain is wired differently too? It’s a whole different bloody ball game. Your nervous system is already juggling a thousand tabs. Then add: • emotional intensity • sensory chaos • constant advocacy • school battles • appointments • meltdowns • shutdowns • mum guilt • the invisible mental load of holding everyone together And somewhere along the way… mum disappears. This mum felt completely alone. Like if she spoke honestly about how heavy things felt…her feelings would be minimised. Her voice dismissed. Her experience invalidated. So instead? She stayed quiet. And her nervous system just… shut down. The thing is… This isn’t rare. I see it all the time. Mums who are holding everything together on the outside, while their nervous system is screaming on the inside. Mums who feel like they’re failing when actually they’re just exhausted from carrying too much for too long. Mums who desperately need somewhere they can say the messy, awkward, heavy stuff… without being judged fixed dismissed or told to “just be more positive.” That’s exactly why Mums Embracing Neurodiversity exists.