But the more I thought about Ocean, the more I realized that self-advocacy begins much earlier than I once understood.

• The foundation may begin before a child can communicate.

• Long before they explain what they need at school.

• Long before they ask for an accommodation.

Sometimes It Begins With a Winter Coat

The winter Ocean turned 3, he suddenly couldn’t tolerate buttons or snaps.

That eliminated half his wardrobe overnight, including his winter coat.

Every attempt to put it on ended in a meltdown. His preschool teachers had no luck either. It would have been easy to see it as a behavior problem. An inconvenience. A silly power struggle.

It was cold out, and we live in the city. We walk most places, so we really couldn’t go anywhere. I felt stuck, and frustration turned into despair.

Eventually, I found a parent giving away a coat with just a zipper. No snaps, no buttons. No judgment, no questions. Ocean happily wore it for the rest of the winter.

Poof! Just like that, no more battles.

A dozen years later, he still prefers sweatpants and never wears jeans. But he’s worn a suit to each of his aunties’ weddings and his friend’s bar mitzvah. I stopped worrying that accommodations would limit him when I realized they were giving him the space to become more fully himself.

That Shift Changed the Way I Parent

I started asking a different question.

Not: “How do I make this stop?”

But: “What is my child trying to tell me?”

That question doesn’t magically solve every hard moment. Sometimes I still don’t know the answer. But it creates a pause, and sometimes a pause is enough to help us move from urgency to curiosity.

I think that’s where confident self-advocacy begins.

Not with having the perfect words. Not even with speaking.

With knowing yourself.

With discovering that your needs matter. With being understood deeply enough that, over time, you can begin to understand yourself.

I explored these ideas, along with some very personal stories from my own parenting journey, in my presentation for the TraumaWise Parenting Summit:
How Do I Help My Neurodivergent Child Become a Confident Self-Advocate?

(If you weren’t able to attend the summit, I’ve made the video available below for paid subscribers.)

One Tiny Practice For This Week

You don’t need to change anything about your parenting today.

Just try this: The next time your child’s behavior confuses, frustrates, or worries you, pause before you respond.

Take one breath.

And ask yourself:

“What is my child trying to tell me?”

You may not know.

That’s okay! The practice isn’t finding the right answer. It’s getting curious, and remembering that there may be more going on than you can see.

If you’re parenting a neurodivergent child, you’re carrying so much. I hope you can bring this one little practice with you into your week.

Welcome! Thank you for visiting.
I’m Kate, and I’m grateful our paths have crossed.

I hope you’ll subscribe to Self-Regulated Parent, a reader-supported publication. Free subscribers receive weekly Sunday posts and become members of our thoughtful, compassionate community of parents.

If this kind of reflection and practical support is useful to you, I hope you’ll consider becoming a paid subscriber. Paid subscriptions help make this publication possible and include access to my most personal posts, deeper opportunities for connection, and video trainings like the one below.
Plus, I’m trialing 1-1 text & voice support for annual subscribers!

Together, we can create a kinder, more compassionate path forward for ourselves and our kids. I’d love to walk alongside you.

Read more

Now that school is back, some of us may suddenly find ourselves with a few unexpected minutes alone (and some of us may not). If you’ve been putting your own needs on the back burner for years, it might surprise you that you’re not sure what to do with that time.

I have a client who sometimes gets unexpected windows of free time when her older child can tolerate school. She hadn’t had time to herself for so long, she didn’t know what to do with it.

She was out of practice with listening to her own needs.

She forgot what brought her joy.

Getting back under the covers was one option.

But she wanted a few alternatives, so we made a list of things she used to love. Anything at all.

At first, it was hard to remember.

We started to move and breathe together, awakening her body’s memory, and every once in a while I’d ask her what she loved to do before becoming a parent.

Slowly, memories surfaced.

I jotted them down as they bubbled up.

Now she keeps the list on her phone so when those moments appear, she has inspiration instead of paralysis.

What would go on your list?

Leave a comment

Maybe you have a few minutes right now, and you feel like reading.
If so, here are some recent articles you may have missed.

You don’t have to read them all!

Pick the one that meets you where you are today.

If it brings you pleasure, inspiration, or ease, share it with a parent friend…

Thanks for reading to the end! xx

I’m off to fold laundry. Can’t wait to read what brings you joy!

Leave a comment

That was one of the questions I asked when she joined me for a conversation about conscious parenting.

She didn’t give me a simple answer.

Oprah’s favorite parenting expert, Dr. Shefali is a psychologist, New York Times bestselling author, and founder of the Conscious Parenting movement. She’s just released two new books, Raising Conscious Sons and Raising Conscious Daughters.

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“Our children have the capacity to unravel us like nobody else, because they are ours.”

I asked about her views on neurodivergence. If we'd had more time, I would have loved to dive deeper into this.

We talked about anger and aggression. This one was particularly personal for me. My son had periods of aggression when he was younger, and one of the scariest things for me was imagining where it might lead in the future.

What would happen when that 4 year old was bigger than me?

We talked about screens, too. I asked her what to do when a teenager is spending more time isolated in his room than you’d like, and her answer may surprise you:

“Don’t take screens away first.”

We talked about what to do instead. Catch the moment she made a joke that literally dropped my jaw.

I just didn’t expect it from her! 😂

Again and again, I heard her say something I think so many of us need to hear:

“Don’t blame yourself.”

You don’t have to be perfectly regulated. Sometimes the most conscious thing we can do is notice that we’re scared. Then use our tools to find our way back from there.

Dr. Shefali’s new books are full of tools you can apply right now, even and especially if your kid towers over you and spends hours in their room on a screen despite your best efforts.

I loved this conversation, and I’m excited to share it with you.

Dr. Shefali’s Website

Get the books:

RAISING CONSCIOUS DAUGHTERS

RAISING CONSCIOUS SONS

I kept coming back to something that feels central to conscious parenting:
How do we stay present with our children when we’re overwhelmed?

Not perfect, just present enough to keep listening, keep learning, and keep seeing the child in front of us rather than the future we’re afraid of. It’s a work in progress.

I hope you’ll listen to the conversation and tell me what you think.

Leave a comment

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When Ocean started kindergarten at a Brooklyn Public School, I wasn’t clear about the transition from his mini bus to the classroom. Something didn’t feel right.

So I followed the bus to school.

I walked into the cafeteria with a little distrust and a lot of questions.

It was loud and crowded. I saw him sitting there, a little dazed, a little jostled. I thought, “How could tiny Ocean possibly navigate this place?”

Some older girls asked me if I was Ocean’s mom.

“He’s so cute!” they crooned.

Then I heard from the lunch lady. She always helped him steady his breakfast tray and find his seat.

The teacher’s aide told me she picked him up from the cafeteria and brought him to the classroom with the other bus kids. And then she told me something I wasn’t expecting:

Ocean and his new best friend walked from the bus into the school holding hands.

I started to cry ugly tears.

He had never had a best friend before.

That’s when I realized I had to let go.

(That’s also when the security guard kicked me out.)

There are scary things about our kids going to school. And there are wonderful things. Many of them we’ll never see.

I had to take a breath and trust this system that seemed too big for my tiny, neurodivergent kid.

Actually, a lot of breaths.

That doesn’t mean I regret being involved, or even vigilant. With very few exceptions, everyone at school has our children’s best interests at heart—and the best interests of every other kid, too.

Advocate for your child, but know this:

You won’t be able to prevent every difficult moment.

Things will go wrong, no matter how prepared you are, but…

Things will go right, too!

I’d love to see your Back To School pics in the chat here!

There’s the part of me that thinks:

Finally! School is starting. I’ll have some time to myself. Maybe I’ll go for a walk with a friend. Or get that overdue project done…

Or just sit in a coffee shop staring out the window trying to remember who I am.

And then the school year begins…

The phone rings.

The nurse. The teacher. The counselor. The IEP coordinator.

• He fell down again.

• He’d been hit by a friend.

• He hit a friend.

• His OT was going on maternity leave.

• He’d sung an inappropriate song.*

• He was struggling with circle time.

• It was time to schedule his IEP meeting.

In elementary school, I had the nurse’s first name and number saved in my favorites. I got so many calls to pick him up, I started to anxiously anticipate them.

By the time he was in middle school, some of the calls pissed me off. I felt like Ocean was being punished for things that were directly related to his disability. Even when the calls weren’t urgent, they were jarring reminders that I hadn’t actually escaped parenting just because Ocean was at school.

I fruitlessly requested a few calls with good news.

The transitions our kids are carrying

When Ocean was little, I didn’t always understand why seemingly simple transitions were so hard for him.

On the weekend, he could dress himself with some support.

But on school days:

He’d put his underwear on top of his pants.

His T-shirt would be inside out and backwards.

Or he’d just stand there, glassy-eyed and frozen, staring at something on the wall while I repeated the same step for what felt like the 50th time.

Eventually I realized that verbal processing was harder for him.

There were so many steps to hold in his head. Get dressed (actually a multi-step sequence). Eat breakfast. Brush your teeth. Your hair. Find your shoes. Get your backpack. Get on the bus.

For a neurodivergent kid, a transition that looks simple from the outside can involve a lot of invisible work. I learned to make it visible.

I learned that when I used pictures, I didn’t have to repeat myself as often.

That’s why I created a visual support kit for parents.
You can read more about that here.

The pressure of rushing and the stress Ocean absorbed from me just made it all harder. I learned to prepare in advance, get up earlier, and relax my rigid expectations. Even though he could brush his own hair, I did it for him if he asked.

I learned from child whisperer to Prepare the Environment, Not Just the Child by looking for friction points in our home, and at least avoid making things harder to find.

I also learned that I couldn’t prepare for everything. :(

You don’t have to be calm

Regulation starts with awareness, not a specific practice.

When I notice that I’m holding tension in my gut, jaw, neck, brow…

• I might just pause for a few seconds.

• I might have time to walk in nature, or just around the block.

• Sometimes I’ll meet a friend who gets it, and we vent over coffee.

• Sometimes, looking at cute pictures of my kid from the summer brings me joy.

• Other times, I just need to scream.

No matter how old they are, your regulated nervous system is a resource your child can borrow when theirs is overwhelmed.

And it’s always with you. Unlike your keys, wallet, phone...

Narrating your own process is a way to model this for your kids.
You can say, “I’m feeling a little nervous right now.”
You can say, “I need a minute.” You’re noticing and accepting what’s happening inside you before you respond. That's a form of regulation, too.

It isn’t pushy to advocate for your child.

In fact, it’s your role as part of the system.

Everyone at school has your child’s best interests at heart—and the best interests of every other kid, too. Teachers and staff are working within stretched budgets, schedules, and attention.

If you can, give yourself a few weeks to settle in.

Don’t volunteer for everything, even if PTA President corners you. Don’t start a new work project if you can help it. Expect that young kids will get sick, and plan to share sick days with your partner if that’s a possibility. Expect the bus route to be a mess. Expect that you won’t get out of the house on time. Especially if you yell.

Get the first-day picture.

If your kid is smiling and wearing similar socks, call it a win.
Bribe them with Froot Loops if you have to.

Share it in this chat thread!

Take a breath. Notice this moment. Feel your feet.

Things will go wrong, no matter how prepared you are.

Don’t expect yourself to be calm.

Just remember that you’re not the only parent nervously ushering your child into this new school year.

*Guess the inappropriate song in the comments!

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When I was invited to speak for the TraumaWise Parenting Summit, I thought I was going to create a pretty straightforward presentation about helping neurodivergent children become confident self-advocates.

Instead, in my own special rabbit-hole way, I found myself reflecting on a perfectly good winter coat, countless subway rides to a busy Brooklyn intersection, and the many surprising ways my son Ocean has shared his world with me.

Somewhere in the process of writing the talk, I realized it isn’t really about advocacy as much as it’s about the everyday moments that help our children to:

• understand themselves,

• trust their own experiences, and

• grow into people who know themselves well enough to communicate their needs with confidence.

I’ll be sharing these stories, along with what they’ve taught me about mindful, neurodiversity-affirming parenting, at the TraumaWise Parenting Summit, a free event September 14–18, 2026.

My friend and colleague Renae has created a space that will help you slow the parenting pressure down so you can learn. With spacious viewing windows for all the talks, you won’t feel rushed.

My Presentation, “How Do I Help My Neurodivergent Child Become a Confident Self-Advocate?” is just 17 minutes, so you can watch it on your lunch break or while folding laundry.

We all know how hard it is to learn when we feel stressed or pressured.

Parenting is hard enough without feeling like every difficult moment is evidence that you’re doing it wrong. That’s why I appreciate Renae’s approach.

I know you’ve read the books. Followed the experts. Tried the scripts. Learned about regulation, attachment, behavior, trauma, neurodivergence, boundaries, and repair.

And still, there are moments when none of it feels accessible.

But with the right kind of support, you’re absolutely equipped to nurture connected and resilient kids… without losing yourself in the process!

save your free spot here

So if you want to help your kid become a confident self-advocate, I’d love for you to join me and a few dozen other experts with real-life experience September 14-18. We truly have your family’s best interests at heart.

I hope to see you there!

Thanks for reading to the end! 🤗

As I was creating this presentation, I realized I want to have these conversations with more parents. If you're part of a school, parent group, nonprofit, or organization looking for a speaker, I'd love to explore bringing this work to your community!

Just reply to this email, comment or message me:

Leave a comment

Your answers will help me decide what would actually be useful.

So please take a second to click the poll.
You can choose the thing that feels heaviest right now…

While the word “school” is banned in our home until September, some of your kids are back already. And if you’re in the Southern Hemisphere, my timing makes no sense.

Still, please…

• Take a second to click.

• Or, tell me in the comments or a DM.

It can be a worry, a hope, a question, or something you're already tired of carrying.

Leave a comment

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What’s in your backpack?

If your biggest concern isn’t on the list, tell me in the comments:

Leave a comment

If you need to be anonymous, send me a DM:

Thanks for reading to the end! 😍

1. I’m excited to interview on September 9!

2. I’m excited for Ocean to start 11th grade on September 10!

3. What are you excited about?

Although I’ve been leading parents through mindfulness practices, yoga classes, support groups, retreats, and workshops since 2002, my speaking work has grown in a way I never expected.

What began as intimate conversations with parents has gradually grown into invitations from schools, parent associations, nonprofits, online summits, and organizations that want to better support the adults who love neurodivergent kids.

Some talks have been carefully planned weeks in advance.

Others have changed completely because of what the audience needed that day.

One presentation for a parent association came during an especially difficult time for the school community.

The day before my talk, I heard the tragic story that brought me to my knees.
I put my prepared script aside, shifted gears, and met the parents where they were.

Afterward, I checked in with the Parent Association President to see how everyone was doing.

She replied to tell me this:

“Your presentation landed on one of the most emotional weeks in the school’s history. The fact that you were given so little notice and needed to pivot your planned presentation was likely not easy for you. It was calming and did a lot to soothe the parents’ frayed nerves.”

That message has stayed with me.

Supporting Adults Who Love Neurodivergent Kids

We ask so much of teachers and school staff. We ask so much of parents.

There’s so little support for their nervous systems.

When adults are overwhelmed, exhausted, or triggered, it’s hard to access the curiosity and compassion that our neurodivergent kids deserve.

Some of my recent presentations include:

• Helping Your Neurodivergent Child Feel Safe in an Uncertain World

• Creating Calm: The 5 Cs of Caring for Neurodivergent Kids

• Self-Compassion: The Secret Sauce For Better Parenting

• Somatic Exercises for Anxious Bodies and Minds

Every presentation is customized for the community I’m serving because every school, organization, and audience has its own strengths, challenges, and needs.

The people doing the most caring often receive the least care.

I’d like to help change that.

If you’re planning programming for your PTA, school, library, nonprofit, conference, or organization this fall, I’d love to explore how I can support your community.

Whether I’m speaking with parents, educators, therapists, or a mashup, my goal is always the same:

• That you leave feeling calmer than when you arrived.

• That you trust yourself a little more.

• And that you carry one small practice into the week ahead.

More than anything, I hope you leave feeling a little less alone.

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First, a hammock swing appeared, hanging from a beam in our living room.

Then a trampoline.

Then a Theraband stretched across the legs of Ocean's dining chair so he could kick while we ate dinner together.

These changes didn’t happen all at once. We made them one by one, as we learned what each of us needed.

Cardboard boxes became forts. Plants slowly filled the windowsills.

A collection of sensory tools came and went as Ocean’s needs changed.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped apologizing for the mess.

A home doesn’t have to be perfect to feel safe.

Like many parents of neurodivergent kids, I was grasping at straws.

Every recommendation from an occupational therapist felt full of possibility.

Maybe this sensory tool would help him sleep?

Maybe that one would make wearing socks easier?

Some things helped. Some didn’t.

It might have looked like we were creating a sensory-friendly home. But one small adjustment at a time, we were also learning how to make room for one another.

The first thing that changed wasn’t for Ocean.

It was for me.

I was forty and pregnant.

I went straight from morning sickness to reflux. Between the nausea and the heartburn, I could barely rest.

John surprised me with a hammock swing and hung it in my favorite corner of our living room. Nestled inside, I was fully supported, gently rocked, and upright just enough to keep my stomach happy.

When Ocean was born, we cuddled him there too. The gentle swaying soothed him. Later, the hammock became a favorite of his cousins, then his neurodivergent friends.

That swing has held a lot of people over the years.

Some of Ocean’s favorite sensory supports weren’t things we bought at all.

One of the best was a giant cardboard box. He asked me to cut windows, decorated it, and crawled inside.

For the next few weeks, it became his private sanctuary.

I used to think supporting him meant finding the right tools.

Now I think it’s just as much about what we don’t fill our space with. Loud music, hectic schedules, heated rants during dinner…

Over time, I stopped asking what else we needed to buy and started asking a different question: What makes a home feel safe?

One winter, when Ocean was three, he suddenly couldn’t tolerate snaps or buttons

His perfectly good coat had become torture. He refused to put it on, which meant we couldn’t leave the house. Brooklyn winters are no joke.

I tried everything, then finally asked for help in a local online special needs parenting group.

• There was no judgment.

• No advice about behavior.

• No questions asked.

• Just one reply:
  “I have one for you. Can you pick it up tomorrow?”

And just like that, we could leave the house again.

Ocean wore his ‘new’ coat without complaint.

What stayed with me was the feeling of being held by another parent who understood.

We each have a different nervous system and different needs.

What we’re creating is a home environment that works for our whole family.

This is what I remember most:

• Cuddling together in the hammock swing.

• The cardboard boxes and blanket forts.

• The coat another parent generously passed on.

We all coexist in our Brooklyn apartment.
It was the first place we practiced inclusion.

I'd love to hear from you:

What makes your home feel safe?

Leave a comment

Ocean asked me to drive him into town to play Pokemon Go for the 3rd day in a row.

I said no.

He accepted the no, then asked, “How about tomorrow?”

IYKYK… that’s a win!

One thing I’ve learned raising Ocean is that growth often happens so gradually we don’t notice it until we look back.

That’s been true of this newsletter too.
It turns out it’s been evolving for a while.
I just hadn’t caught up yet.

So if things start looking a little different around here over the next few weeks, it’s because I’m getting clearer on what this community has been becoming all along.

What I Shared in June & July

Plus, I cross-posted some important stories by (Happy Pride!)
and (Let’s Talk About Drowning).

Here’s why I keep coming back every Sunday to write to you

If you want to learn more about what we’re growing into, read this:

The Heart of Parenting

“This was beautiful and deeply moving. ‘We were on the same team’ feels like the heart of parenting. Thank you for sharing such an honest story.”

This one has sparked many comments…

“When you talked about him being able to feel your anxiety...that is something I try to be aware of. Staying present and intentional is something I am working on this summer too!”

“Wow. Kids have the best questions.”

Don’t they? ❤️

Looking back over the season so far, what’s one small sign of growth you’re noticing, either in yourself or in your kids?

I’d love to see your comments, but no pressure.

Leave a comment

☀️ I’m just really happy you’re here!

We were walking home from preschool, holding hands as we passed Greenwood Playground in our Brooklyn neighborhood.

“Mama,” he asked, “am I the baby you wanted? Did you wish for a different baby?”

Time stopped.

I knelt on the sidewalk next to him.

I didn't want to rush in with reassurance, because I knew he was sensing the fears I'd been carrying.

At the same time, I wanted him to know:

We had wished for exactly him.

Before he was born, we prayed for the soul that was meant to join our family. We knew we had an abundance of love, and we wanted to share it with a child.

Were we the right parents for him?

Who else but us?

No baby was ever more wanted.

That afternoon, kneeling on the busy sidewalk, strollers and scooters detouring around us, I told him that.

By then, I’d spent years researching, asking questions, filling out paperwork. We’d been on a waiting list for a neuropsychological evaluation for months.

I couldn’t make the uncertainty disappear. But I had done everything I knew how to do.

My anxiety had become something he could feel, and be hurt by.

That’s when I decided to spend more time enjoying being his mom.

That summer, we ran through a lot of sprinklers. We ate a lot of drippy ice cream cones. We kicked a lot of soccer balls.

Of course there were hard years ahead of us.

But we were on the same team.

Each of us seeking clarity; finding our footing in a confusing world.

Before Ocean was born, I had such freedom. I traveled the world with my life in a backpack, taught yoga, rode my bike all over Brooklyn.

Running beneath that liberation was deep longing. Becoming a parent was something I wanted more than anything.

For years, I wasn’t sure it would happen.

So when I became Ocean’s mama, I didn’t feel like I’d lost my old life. I was so grateful to finally be living the one I’d wished for.

That’s part of what made those early years so confusing.

My fear didn’t begin with diagnosis.

It started much earlier.

• When he dropped off his growth curve.

• When he screamed more than he slept.

• When he pocketed food in his cheeks and choked.

• When we started down the Early Intervention rabbit hole.

• When he still wasn’t walking.

One worry led to another. Each one chipped away at my confidence.

I found myself comparing his development to other children. I felt shame for making those comparisons.

A lingering belief drove me: if I researched enough, and didn’t let anything slip through the cracks, I could protect him from suffering.

Maybe he’d catch up.

It often took Ocean two hours to fall asleep, and he woke before 5:30 every morning no matter what.

He was gleeful a lot of the time.

I was exhausted all of the time.

His meltdowns seemed to come out of nowhere, and I tried so hard to soothe him. I started to avoid everything that seemed to trigger them.

Our world became very small.

Everything revolved around his naps because the routine seemed to help him. I ate scraps from his plate because making myself lunch felt like one too many things.

Many of the mindfulness practices I relied on for my mental health were suddenly out of reach. I couldn’t go on a meditation retreat, or to a yoga class.

I couldn’t even leave the room.

I had wanted to be a parent more than anything.

And I barely recognized myself.

Then one day, a wise mother of three offered me this practice:

“Feel your feet on the ground.”

It sounded too simple.

That night, Ocean wanted me to soothe him to sleep.

Instead, I stood outside his bedroom door. I wiggled my toes. Dropped my shoulders. Felt my feet on the floor.

And I quietly sang Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.

He still had his feelings.

I had mine.

For the first time, I wasn’t trying to make either of us feel differently.

I was simply there.

I think that was the beginning of a different way of parenting.

I discovered that I could stay connected to him without abandoning myself.

Ocean doesn’t look into my eyes very often.

He has always paid attention in his own way.

He listens to something beyond words.

He takes hold of a thread of an idea and follows it until he’s completely unraveled it.

He’s always trying to understand the world around him. And without realizing it, he’s helping me understand myself.

I thought my job was to protect him from every hard feeling.

That day on our walk home, I learned my real job:

To be present.

To love him the way he needed to be loved. His way. Not the way I imagined parenting would look.

Sometimes it meant running through sprinklers instead of searching for answers.

Sometimes it meant feeling my feet while he learned to fall asleep.

Love wasn’t something I had to prove through constant vigilance.

It was something I practiced through presence.

I’ll never have parenting figured out.

Ocean will keep growing, and I’ll grow alongside him.

• somewhere along the way you’ve lost touch with yourself.

• parenting feels more intense than you expected.

• you’re exhausted from holding everything and everyone together.

If you’re longing to feel more connected, calm, and present because you want to enjoy parenting and avoid burnout...

Subscribe now

Welcome!

I’m glad you’re here.

For 4 years, this publication was called Atypical Kids, Mindful Parents. I’ve moved away from using the word ‘atypical’ as ‘neurodivergent’ has grown in popularity. I definitely prefer the word neurodivergent, but this name change is more than that.

While my work is still rooted in mindfulness and neurodiversity, I realized I’ve been writing about something bigger.

Not just how to support our neurodivergent kids, but how we grow alongside them.

Because our children aren’t the only ones growing.

Here’s why I keep coming back every Sunday to write to you

When I became a parent, I thought my years of yoga and meditation had prepared me for just about anything.

Then I became Ocean’s mom.

Many of the practices I relied on were suddenly out of reach. I couldn’t leave for a meditation retreat. I couldn’t even leave the room!

I was reminded by a mom of three that short, simple practices can really help.

Over time, I found myself returning again and again to the practices that helped me feel my feet on the ground, soften my inner critic, and remember that I didn’t have to do this alone.

Those practices didn’t make parenting easy.

But they did help me find my way back to myself.

Over the years, I’ve learned that the struggles that broke me open were helping me grow.

I started writing here because I knew I wasn’t the only parent who felt this way.

I’m Kate Lynch (she/her). I’m a writer, parent guide, mindfulness teacher, and the parent of an amazing neurodivergent kid.

Since 2002, I’ve had the privilege of supporting thousands of sensitive parents through mindfulness, self-compassion, yoga, coaching, and community. My writing has appeared in MUTHA, Autism Parenting Magazine, ADDitude Mag, and more. I speak at schools, nonprofits, and parenting summits, and facilitate neurodiverse parent groups with organizations including Good Inside and Extreme Kids.

First and foremost, I’m a parent who’s walking this path alongside you.

My little neurodiverse family lives in a magical land called Brooklyn.

The questions I keep returning to:

• What if burnout isn’t a personal failure, but a signal that we need support?

• What if we deserve as much compassion as our kids?

• What if staying deeply connected doesn’t require losing ourselves?

• What if our children aren’t the only ones growing?

• What if I don’t have to do this alone?

I don’t pretend to have all the answers.

But I believe these are worth considering.

If this resonates with you...

Every Sunday I send out an honest, helpful post.

Sometimes I’ll share a mindfulness or nervous system practice you can use in the middle of a hard day.

Sometimes it’s a story from my own parenting journey.

Sometimes we’ll explore systems, ableism, connection, or the complicated feelings that come with raising kids whose brains work differently.

Always, my goal is the same:

That you’ll feel a little less alone.

That you’ll trust yourself a little more.

And that you’ll leave with one small practice you can carry into your week.

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Around here, I hope you’ll find permission...

• Permission to not have all the answers.

• Permission to rest.

• Permission to change your mind.

• Permission to repair.

• Permission to stop comparing.

• Permission to ask for help.

• Permission to care for your nervous system.

• Permission to be human.

Because parenting neurodivergent kids asks a lot of us, and none of us is meant to do it alone.

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Atypical Kids, Mindful Parents Podcast is where I have conversations with parents and experts who share our mission. Follow the podcast for grounding practices, relatable parenting stories, and empowering strategies.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Whether you’re brand new to this path or you’ve been walking it for years, I hope you’ll find something here that helps you breathe a little easier.

Thank you for being here.

I’m so grateful our paths have crossed.

Oxoxo,

Kate Lynch (she/her)

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Many parents of neurodivergent kids live with chronic stress.

We’re advocating, solving problems, worrying, and holding everything together for years at a time. Our nervous systems get stuck in survival mode.

Below are some of the questions parents have asked me about burnout, self-compassion, and small ways we can begin reconnecting with our bodies again.

How Can Self-Compassion Bring Relief To Struggling Parents?

Q: You’ve talked about “somatic self-compassion” for parents. What is that?

A: It’s really just fancy words for knowing yourself and being kind to yourself.

Somatic means of the body. What sort of relationship do you have with your body? Do you recognize your physical sensations? Are you attuned to them?

Compassion is the desire to relieve suffering. Self-compassion simply brings awareness to our own discomfort, validates it, and cares for that part of us.

Our feelings live in our bodies. Somatic self-compassion focuses our attention there. We can move emotions and sensations through our bodies, rather than stuffing them down. This can often bring relief.

What Does This Look Like During a Meltdown or School Meeting?

Q: Can you explain what somatic self-compassion looks like in practice when a parent is deep in overwhelm — during a meltdown or school meeting?

A: Simply notice what’s happening in your body:

Are your shoulders tight?
Is your breath shallow?
Is your jaw clenched?

Instead of judging those reactions, acknowledge them and offer yourself some care. Sometimes that’s a breath, a stretch, or simply the reminder:

“This is hard.”

That small moment of awareness can interrupt the stress cycle.

Signs Your Nervous System Is Overloaded

Q: Many parents describe chronic dysregulation: jumpy nerves, exhaustion, or shutting down. What signals do parents overlook until burnout?

A: Look for physical stress responses like tight muscles, jumpy nerves, elevated heart rate, difficulty taking a full breath, exhaustion, tension headaches…

First, make sure you’re getting regular medical checkups, because sometimes there’s a straightforward medical solution.

Stress also shows up in our behavior:

• When you can’t slow down or fall asleep, even at the end of an exhausting day. Anxiety, hyper-vigilance, and escaping through substances are flight responses.

• Dissociation can look like driving somewhere and realizing you don’t remember the trip.

• It’s easy to recognize rigid thinking in our kids, but what about ourselves? Yelling a lot or digging your heels in? Those are fight responses.

• Walking on eggshells around family members? Fawning is when we’ll do anything to avoid conflict.

• Lost all enthusiasm for playing with your kids? Sleeping all day? Collapse can look like that.

None of this is your fault. The systems around us make it incredibly hard to parent atypical kids without carrying chronic stress.

Stepping Out of Survival Mode

Q: One parent said she felt like she was “parenting on adrenaline” for years. How do people step out of survival mode?

A: Sigh. That description is so relatable.

The HPA axis is an endocrine loop between the brain and body that can get stuck “on.” It’s like a light switch for fear/danger that won’t turn off.

To shift that pattern, we need to interrupt the cycle intentionally.

First, we have to assess our present reality.

If your environment is genuinely unsafe, deep breathing alone won’t solve it. Neurodiverse families live within systems that aren’t supportive.

Some important questions to ask:

• Am I objectively safe?

• Do I need to change my environment?

• Is this more of an inner safety issue?

If inner safety is what you’re missing, even super-stressed parents can start with a micro-habit that will help you regulate your nervous system. Slip a new, helpful habit into the daily routine you already have.

Here are a few habits you can stack:

1. Slow exhales while waiting for your kid to put on their shoes.

2. Squats while brushing your teeth?

3. Birthday candle breathing when you pick your kid up from school/daycare (slowly blow on the tip of your finger through pursed lips).

4. Appreciation of anything: silently repeat “thank you” while chopping veggies; feel gratitude for your dog, a kind word, or your kid falling asleep before midnight.

5. The mindfulness practices below don’t take much time either.Q

If small changes aren’t helping, try something bigger for a short time:

• finish your shower with cold water

• go to bed much earlier

• exercise differently: sign up for a new class or with a friend

Mindfulness That Works in Real Life

Q: You often say mindfulness doesn’t have to be still or quiet. What practices work in chaotic households?

A: Mindfulness isn’t just for monks on mountaintops. It’s valuable when we can stay grounded in the middle of chaos. But (as we well know) that’s not easy, so practicing in advance is key.

A few simple practices you can try out:

• Shake, wiggle, jump, or dance.

• Squeeze and release your muscles.

• Focus on your senses: sight, sound, tactile sensation, smell, taste.

• Affirmation… which can be far from woo-woo.

At one point I put post-its around our apartment that said:

“It’s NOT an emergency.”

Ocean (at 5) noticed and started reminding me when I got worked up:

“Mama, it’s not an emergency.”

Setting Boundaries Without Feeling Selfish

Q: We’ve heard from parents who say they feel guilty setting boundaries, even when they’re running on empty. How do you help parents in your community practice boundary-setting in a way that feels compassionate, not selfish?

A: It isn’t compassionate to anyone if you burn out. In our culture we’re indoctrinated into this idea that being selfish is the worst possible thing, especially for moms. Meanwhile, others are flaunting their selfishness. There’s an imbalance, and it won’t change until we do something.

I learned a reframe about guilt from Dr. Becky Kennedy that I find really helpful:

True guilt is when we’ve behaved in a way that goes against our values.

Often what we’re feeling isn’t guilt. It’s discomfort about someone else’s reaction to our boundary.

If someone is inconvenienced because you need rest or support, that’s okay.

We can practice differentiating between the two. Next time you set a boundary and feel uncomfortable, ask yourself:

1. Is this boundary aligned with my values?

2. Is the discomfort I’m feeling mine or am I absorbing someone else’s?

Our kids learn about boundaries by watching us. Running on empty isn’t sustainable, and we don’t want to pass that pattern on to the next generation. Do we?

Why Community Matters

Q: Your work centers a lot on community — not trying to do this alone. What’s the role of being witnessed and validated by other parents in healing burnout or resentment?

A: Isolation plays directly into systems that keep families confused and ashamed. There’s safety and power in numbers. Belonging is protective.

In this community, we won’t bat an eyelash at your worst supermarket meltdown story. We’ll laugh and cry and nod along with you when nobody else believes your stories could be true. And we’ll celebrate the wins that others might not understand.

Reaching out to connect isn’t easy, but it’s worth it. Hearing other parents’ stories normalizes the chaos and reminds us that survival—and even joy—is possible.

Having real conversations with other parents going through similar struggles is nourishing, not draining.

So tell us in the comments:

• How will you break free of the chronic stress cycle?

• What’s one thing you’ll do this week to be kinder to YOU?

Leave a comment

One Tiny Practice You Can Try Right Now

Q: What’s one tiny, body-based practice you’d recommend to a parent right now—something they could do in under 30 seconds to reconnect with themselves?

A: Yawn, then give yourself a big hug!

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If you’re trying to build a life that actually works for your neurodiverse family, you’re in the right place. Subscribe for conversations, tools, and honest reflections about raising atypical kids with compassion for them—and for ourselves.

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Thanks for reading to the end!

If you’ve got a child on the brink of adulthood, or you’re curious how to get a head start on transitioning to independence, join our no cost 30 minute talk on June 18 at 7 PM Eastern via Extreme Kids & Crew.
(I’m the host of the parent support group and work part time for EKC).

Special guest Gary Shulman will present his wealth of experience and resources:

Transition to the World of Adult Services

With the understanding that each child has unique skills and abilities as well as areas that need support, we can prepare them to be as independent as possible on their own unique timeline.

Is your neurodivergent kid on the brink of adulthood?

If yours is younger, are you curious how to get a head start on transitioning to independence?

Summer is a great time to focus on activities of daily living!

With the understanding that each child has unique skills and abilities as well as areas that need support, we can prepare them to be as independent as possible on their timeline.

Here are some skills you can help your child build:

1. Self-confidence and the value of their special interests

2. Money management and budgeting

3. Preparing food for themselves

4. Hygiene issues (especially going through puberty)

5. Making friends, learning how to speak to people (and who is dangerous)

6. Becoming teens & young adults: sexuality, gender, sex education

7. Opportunities to be away from you

Transitioning to the World of Adult Services

If you’re wondering how your kid will survive without you, join our no cost 30 minute talk via Extreme Kids & Crew. Special guest Gary Shulman will share his wealth of experience and resources.

WHO: For parents and caregivers raising neurodivergent children and teens
WHERE: Facilitated via Zoom
WHEN: Thursday June 18, 7-8 p.m. Eastern
There’s no cost to attend.

SIGN UP HERE

Subscribe now

Today, my first online summit, a 3 month labor of love, wraps up.

You can still hear Day 3 talks for free. What a glorious collaboration and learning experience!! But I’ve been drowning myself in “workahol” much more than is healthy.

I’m tying up loose ends to pivot my focus to mental & physical health, family, friends, and the long-term client relationships that fuel me most.

I’ll be available for whatever Ocean (capital O, 15 year old son) needs from me, which may mean more downtime or more drama. He has a few more weeks of school and then we’ll be hanging around waiting for his exams to be over while he tries to study and instead gets more and more stressed.

What I’ve Discovered:

It’s best to allow time and space around these transitions, rather than trying to juggle everything and letting all the balls drop in a miserable heap.

If you have a teenager, did you read ’s article on listening to your kid? If you have a younger kid, I suggest listening to the interview with .

Here are the interviews & articles I shared in May:

My Neurodivergent Teen is Smart & Failing with Katie Bertie

Mother’s Day Feelings with Ryan Rose Weaver & Kate Lynch

Okay, have a good enough week. ;)
I’d love to know what you most need right now in your parenting…

Short Subscriber Survey

What if the problem is that many sensitive people were taught, very early, that their needs were inconvenient?

The Cultural Lie Behind Sensitive Burnout

Recently, I joined of Singularly Sensitive for a Substack Live conversation about the upcoming Selfworthy HSP Summit I’m hosting May 28-30.

We talked about highly sensitive people, nervous systems, parenting, burnout, embodiment, belonging, and the ways sensitive people slowly learn to disconnect from themselves in order to survive.

And honestly, underneath all of it was one question:

Why do so many highly sensitive people think they have to earn the right to care for themselves?

Especially parents and caregivers. Especially the people who became experts at caring for everyone else while slowly disappearing from themselves.

Early in the conversation, before answering Lori’s question, I paused.

That moment captures the spirit of this summit better than anything else I could say…

Presence.

The willingness to pause and return to yourself.

“It’s Not Willpower”

For years, I tried helping parents practice self-care in ways that felt smaller, easier, and more accessible. We don’t have time. On the surface, that seems like the clear issue. Of course we don’t have enough time.

I shortened practices.
I offered thirty-second resets.
I suggested weaving mindfulness into everyday life.

But eventually I realized something important. The problem wasn’t time management. It wasn’t willpower.

The deeper issue is self-worth.

Highly sensitive people are constantly told that burnout is a personal failure.
That if we were more disciplined, more resilient, less emotional, more productive, we’d finally be able to keep up.

But many sensitive people learned very early that their needs were inconvenient.

Too much.
Too emotional.
Too needy.
Too sensitive.

So many of us learned self-abandonment as a survival strategy, and when I became a mom, I felt that pattern hit even harder.

I disappeared into caregiving.
Overfunctioning.
Burnout.

Putting everyone else first while feeling shame whenever I tried to care for myself. At a time when I needed MORE support, MORE rest, MORE care.

That contradiction is something so many sensitive parents carry.

So we disconnect from our feelings and needs. We disconnect from our bodies.

Living “From the Neck Up”

Lori and I talked about how many highly sensitive people are living “from the neck up.”

Analyzing.
Monitoring.
Managing.

Disconnected from the body.

One of my students once described it as feeling like “a head in a jar.”

And I think many sensitive people immediately understand that feeling.

It’s a trauma response.

We live in a world that overwhelms our nervous systems.
We feel more deeply.
We notice more.

So many of us learn to disconnect because staying fully present feels like too much.

But self-abandonment comes at a cost too.

It doesn’t just distance us from pain.
It distances us from pleasure.
Joy.
Intuition.
Authenticity.
Aliveness!

As Lori beautifully reflected during our conversation, many sensitive people do not need more information. They need safer ways to return to themselves.

Healing Through Choice, Not Performance

One of the things I care about most in my work is helping sensitive people reconnect with themselves through choice rather than performance.

That’s true in my yoga classes inside my trauma-informed yoga membership, The Compassion Club. In my classes, I give variations repeatedly, because I want people practicing the skill of listening inward.

Instead of:
“How far can I push myself?”

Try:
“What does my body actually need right now?”

That can be a radical shift for highly sensitive and neurodivergent people who learned that safety depended on meeting expectations.

It shaped the structure of this summit too.

Belonging Requires Welcoming Environments

During the conversation, I shared a story about my autistic son and how his more inexperienced teachers in middle school often became frustrated because he couldn’t sit still and learn at the same time. My response was:

Because inclusivity cannot only mean forcing sensitive and neurodivergent people to constantly accommodate themselves to the world. We have got to at least meet in the middle and create environments where differences are welcomed, supported, and celebrated.

I actually think one of the signs of healing is when people stop trying to perform and start building lives that genuinely accommodate who they are.

Why I Created This Summit

This summit was created because I believe highly sensitive people need more than coping strategies.

We need spaces that encourage us to stop blaming ourselves for cultural conditioning that taught us to override our needs. Spaces that help us reconnect with ourselves.

Where sensitivity is treated as wisdom instead of weakness.

The summit follows a three-day arc:

1. Beliefs. We begin by questioning the stories many sensitive people carry about themselves.

2. Body. Then we reconnect with the body through nervous system support, compassion, movement, creativity, nature, and self-trust.

3. Belonging. Finally, we move into belonging. Because I truly believe one of the deepest wounds many highly sensitive people carry is isolation. This is especially true with the neurodivergent and highly sensitive parents I know who are raising neurodivergent or highly sensitive kids. The feeling that nobody quite understands them or their struggles. That they have to shut down parts of themselves in order to be accepted. Then the cycle is perpetuated. I don’t want that.

I want this summit to offer another experience entirely.

An experience of being held, seen, and embraced. So you can step into authenticity, spaciousness, presence, and leadership.

Honestly, I can’t think of anything more important right now.

Join The Selfworthy HSP Summit Free

The conversation was rich, deep, and not without frustration, which felt fitting.

That’s what the Selfworthy HSP Summit keeps coming back to: the reality of being a highly sensitive person in a world that rarely teaches us how to work with our nervous systems instead of against them.

When I sat down with for a Substack Live, we ended up talking about much more than mindfulness. We talked about belonging. Inner critics. Caretaking. Regulation. Rage. Rest…

And what happens when awareness grows faster than self-compassion.

Somewhere between puppy interruptions and technical difficulties, a theme kept surfacing: Highly sensitive people need spaces that help us understand ourselves more clearly and treat ourselves more kindly.

The “Symphony” of Sensitive Speakers

As I’ve been recording and editing conversations for the Selfworthy HSP Summit, I’ve been struck by how interconnected they all feel.

One speaker talks about discovering high sensitivity and suddenly feeling like their whole life makes sense. Another explores the cultural conditioning that teaches sensitive people to override themselves. Intersectionality, creativity, reclaiming joy, nourishment, being with nature… the themes from one weave into another.

One speaker () described it as a symphony, and that’s exactly what it feels like.

Each conversation resonates and attunes with the rest.

Together, they lead us through a transformational arc from awareness to embodiment to belonging.

The summit begins with recognition: understanding that high sensitivity is an innate trait that doesn’t smoothly fit into our modern culture. From there, we move into the nervous system, the body, creativity, movement, mindfulness, rest. And finally into the question many sensitive people quietly carry:

How do I stay connected to myself while living in the real world?

Mindfulness Beyond “Calm”

Ryan offered one of the most important reframes I’ve heard around mindfulness for highly sensitive people.

Mindfulness is often marketed as a path to calm. But for many sensitive people, especially those carrying chronic stress, trauma, chronic pain, or neurodivergence, focusing inward doesn’t feel calming at first.

Sometimes it feels loud.

Sometimes it feels confronting.

Sometimes the inner critic gets even louder.

Ryan shared that mindfulness has helped her not because it made her calm all the time, but because it helped her cultivate inner clarity. She says the goal is not to become “pleasant” or squeeze ourselves into another box.

The goal is to know ourselves more honestly, and notice:

• when we’re overriding our needs

• when we’re dysregulated

• when we’re caregiving beyond our capacity

• when we’re spiraling into self-criticism

• when we need rest before more information

That kind of awareness can be life-changing for people who have spent years believing they were “too sensitive.”

When Awareness Comes Faster Than Compassion

One of the most powerful moments in our conversation came when we talked about what happens after the realization stage.

Clarity on its own can be brutal.

Many sensitive people become self-aware before they become self-compassionate. We start recognizing our patterns, our people-pleasing, our over-functioning, our shutdowns, our rage, our exhaustion.

But instead of responding with care, the inner critic steps in:

“Why am I still doing this?”
“What’s wrong with me?”

In her talk, Ryan describes mindfulness as having “two wings” - clarity and compassion.

Register For Free Here

Without compassion, awareness can become another weapon we use against ourselves.

That landed, because so many highly sensitive people are already carrying years of internalized judgment. We learned early to monitor ourselves. To anticipate others’ needs. To push through when our nervous systems were asking us to stop. To override our own discomfort.

And when we finally begin waking up to those patterns, there can be grief. Anger. Exhaustion. Resentment.

That doesn’t mean we’re failing, it means we’re human.

Regulation Is Not the Same as Calm

Another thread we kept returning to was the difference between calm and nervous system regulation. Sensitive people are often told to “calm down” but regulation is more responsive and broad than calm.

Regulation might look like:

• taking a break when we feel a meltdown coming on

• noticing hunger before irritability takes over

• stepping away instead of pushing through

• locking the bedroom door for an hour because your nervous system needs quiet

• resting after emotional insight instead of immediately trying to optimize yourself

Ryan described mindfulness as creating a “sit spot” — a place where we can pause long enough to notice what’s actually happening without immediately judging ourselves for it.

That spaciousness is radical.

Especially for people who have spent their lives reacting.

The Importance of Rest and Saturation

Highly sensitive people tend to read the personal growth books. Listen to the podcasts. Take the courses. Highlight every insight.

But insight alone is not embodiment.

Our nervous systems need space to absorb what we’re learning.

We bonded over falling asleep while reading transformational books. Not because the material is boring, but because rest helps our nervous system absorm information and make it our own.

I told Ryan how I’ve added an extra step to the RAIN mindfulness framework:

Recognize
Allow
Investigate
Nurture, and…
S for Saturate.

Let it soak in. Let it simmer. Let your nervous system become satiated.

That’s one of the most self-compassionate things a highly sensitive person can do.

A Different Kind of Belonging

By the end of the conversation, we circled back to belonging.

Because we stopped abandoning ourselves, and learned to recognize our needs before collapse. We allowed ourselves seasons of tending, rest, enthusiasm, and limits. We started treating ourselves like someone worth caring for.

Now we want to share that insight, regulation, and connection with other highly sensitive people. We want you to know you’re not alone.

You deserve to take up space in your life.

That’s the spirit of the Selfworthy HSP Summit:

Learning how to come home to ourselves with more clarity, more compassion, and more support than many of us have received before.

The Selfworthy HSP Summit runs May 28-30 and brings together an incredible group of 15 empathetic experts: therapists, mindfulness teachers, nervous system practitioners, coaches, and healers all sharing what it’s like to embrace self-compassion and self-worth as a highly sensitive person.

If you’ve ever felt hyper-aware of everyone else’s needs, or like you’ve been carrying too much for too long, you’ll feel less alone here:

Register For Free Here

Hi! How has your week been?

Today we have a guest post from Special Educator , which will speak more directly to parents of teens. But honestly? The sooner you can start doing this, the more practice you’ll have. Every parent can benefit from this simple (but not easy) tip.

But first…

Upcoming Events:

I’m going LIVE with my highly sensitive friend here on Substack to talk about the experience of being an HSP with a history of self-abandonment and people-pleasing.

I’ll share the ways that mindfulness has helped me rediscover my self-compassion and self-worth, Ryan will share her journey, and we’ll all learn from each other!

• Mindfulness & Sensitivity with May 20 at Noon ET.

This LIVE is leading up to the Selfworthy HSP Summit, which has been keeping me busy and full of rich, deep dive conversations with experts like Lori and Ryan, and others I can’t wait to introduce you to!

Mark your calendar, and meet us here LIVE on Substack.

Does a Failing Grade Feel Like a Tragedy to Your Neurodivergent Teen?

Frankie (not his real name) was one of my most brilliant students.

He was also at serious risk of failing his English GCSE exams. These public exams are obligatory for all 16 year olds in the UK. Failing English has a big impact on a teen’s future choices: post 16 education is predicated on getting a set pass grade for these exams, of which English and Maths are the most vital.

So failing at these exams feels like the end of the world.

Frankie was at risk of failing because the prospect was so terrifying to him.

He froze in exams and was unable to write anything.

The system itself caused the problem that prevented him from benefiting from the system supposedly created for him:

• School gave him extra revision classes, resources and homework.

• Teachers encouraged him to ‘keep trying’.

• Meetings with parents were held.

None of it really moved the needle.

When I started working with him, I did the thing I always do and the number one thing I encourage parents to do:

I listened to him.

It wasn’t easy at first.

He ‘didn’t know’ what was wrong. He was uncomfortable expressing any opinion to do with school, and the most common reply to any question was an anxious smile.

I kept listening without judgment or the urge to offer solutions.

Eventually Frankie started to open up.

He told me what was happening in his inner world - a fear of ‘appearing stupid’ or ‘getting it wrong’. As he opened up, that fear began to lift.

The dread of ‘making a mistake’ became less painful to him.

Gradually, things shifted. Instead of freezing, sometimes his words flowed. Each time that happened, it got a little easier - because now he had proof that he ‘could do it’.

His parents started to listen to him too.

That’s when his confidence really started to grow!

It’s difficult to hold back from ‘giving advice’, but taking a deep breath and simply hearing what he had to say was transformative for their whole family.

When they understood what was happening internally for him, they stopped thinking of him as lazy, difficult, or unreasonable.

When he was able to feel heard, the fear of getting it wrong lost power over him. That meant he was able to take the hard steps of learning: try, fail, get up and try again.

When it came to the exam?

He didn’t freeze up, and he got the grade he needed.

That’s why the first thing I ever do with a student who is struggling in school is to listen to them. It’s also the first thing I encourage parents to do when their teen is stuck and languishing. I know it’s easy for me to say, because they’re not my child (and because I’ve been doing this for years).

Yes, it’s harder, much harder, for parents to do.

But it can be taught.

When you’re able to listen to your child, you can give them what they truly need.

And it’s often not what you were expecting.

When we can listen to what they fear, and what they hope for, without offering advice and without jumping in to ‘fix it’...

…they begin to lead us.

Finally, we have a map we can follow.

I’ve worked with so many teens with ADHD and/or dyslexia facing the same difficulties that Frankie was facing. That’s why I created a quick guide for parents with 3 easy steps you can take to support your neurodivergent teen.

Get Katie’s 3 Step Parent Guide To Rebuilding Your Neurodivergent Teen’s Confidence at School

Quickly kill the fear that your neurodivergent teen is destined to struggle. Get the simple steps I used to go from overwhelmed and terrified for my teen, to knowing how to support them so they could tackle school with confidence.

This short guide walks you through three simple weekly steps to help your neurodivergent teen move from struggling to flourishing.

Each step comes with a quick practical tip you can try straight away.

3 confidence building tips

is an Oxford-educated, Orton-Gillingham trained specialist educator who works with parents of teenagers with ADHD and dyslexia who are trying to hold everything together. What shapes her work most is her own experience as a neurodivergent parent of neurodivergent kids. She understands how lost parents can feel, and she helps parents find their footing again.

Hi! How has your week been?

First: Have you heard about my anti-Hallmark Mother’s Day Weekend Retreat? Have you seen the LIVE I did with my friend on the complicated feelings we’re afraid to express around Mother’s Day?

Marking Mother’s Day in ways that don’t feel fake with Kate Lynch

Ryan and I are going LIVE again on May 20, 12pm Eastern, to talk about Mindfulness for Highly Sensitive People and her talk at the Selfworthy HSP Summit which I’m hosting May 28-30.

It wasn’t that many years ago that we had given up on air travel.

• Eloping in airports.

• Meltdowns in TSA lines.

• Car sickness, air sickness, seasickness, food poisoning… ugh.

But traveling is an intrinsic part of me, and eventually I had to try again. Fast forward to earlier this month: I was teaching yoga on the beach at a resort in Cozumel. I brought John and Ocean with me.

I’m grateful that Ocean is an expert traveler now.

He helped with bags, and was relatively cheerful after a long day of flights. It’s not perfect, of course. We had some food issues, rigid thinking, and screen battles. But we would have had those at home, so why not do it in Mexico!

We’ve been back a few weeks. I’m still savoring the sensation of buoyancy as we snorkeled with rays, starfish, sea turtles, and so many beautiful fishies!

What I Shared in March

What a prolific month!

What I shared in April

A 3-part deep dive into one of my special interests, Polyvagal Theory, and how it has helped me stay regulated and present.

• Polyvagal-Informed Strategies for a Calmer Family (Part 2)

• Polyvagal-Informed Strategies For a Calmer Family (Part 3)

Welcome back! How are you feeling about this series so far?

In Part 1, we began with validation and why self-regulation is the key to family harmony.

Polyvagal-Informed Strategies For a Calmer Family (Part 1)

In Part 2, we explored the polyvagal ladder: a map to understand your nervous system and your child’s.

Polyvagal-Informed Strategies For a Calmer Family (Part 2)

If you haven’t yet, read those before continuing.

Reminders Before You Begin Part 3

• The best way to teach these tools is to model them.

• You don’t have to be calm all the time.

• Meet yourself where you’re at — no nervous system state is “bad.”

• Remember the gifts of each state: gratitude, energy, and protection.

• When you self-regulate, your kids can regulate too.

Now, let’s go deeper into how you can reshape your neural pathways and support your family’s growth…

Why This Works

The Polyvagal Theory was developed by Dr. Stephen Porges and popularized by Dr. Deb Dana and Dr. Mona Delahooke, among others. But as mammals, we’ve been regulating our vagus nerves long before science named them.

These practices belong to everyone.

By befriending your nervous system, you can create a calmer, more harmonious home environment. There will always be stress, that’s part of a meaningful life. But when you make mindfulness part of your toolbox, you can discharge stress and savor connection whenever you need to.

Your kids will feel the difference.

Welcome! Thank you for visiting.

I’m Kate, and I’m glad you’re here.

If you’re raising a neurodivergent kid and longing to be more connected, calm, and present so you can enjoy your family and avoid burnout...

I hope you’ll subscribe to Self-Regulated Parent, a reader-supported publication. Together, we can create a kinder, more compassionate path forward for ourselves and our kids. I’d love to walk alongside you.

Would you like to support my work? Paid subscriptions help make this publication possible and include access to video trainings, my most personal posts, deeper dives like the one below, and opportunities for connection.

Plus, I’m trialing 1-1 asynchronous support for annual subscribers!

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