Because if you can’t laugh, you’ll cry…and I’ve already cried enough this week.
Introduction: The Marriage We Didn’t Expect to Test This Much
If someone had told me on my wedding day, “Hey, by the way, you’re going to juggle ADHD, autism, sensory meltdowns, therapy schedules, and hormones all under one roof,” I probably would’ve been a runaway bride just like Julia Roberts.
Fast-forward 17 years and here we are: still married, still tired, still learning, and somehow still laughing through the chaos. Neurodivergent parenting will humble you real quick, but it will also show you just how strong (or stubborn) you really are.
This is the real, unfiltered, slightly sarcastic version of our story — because the Social media version would just be lies. Not that we’re on social media a lot, but, yeah.
Before the Diagnosis: Two Clueless People Doing Their Best
Honestly? I have no idea how we made it this far without murdering (figuratively – of course) each other or at least moving into separate rooms of the house. We had our “throw in the towel” moments — plural. But somehow, between sheer willpower and questionable tolerance levels, we stuck it out.
This was before I knew I had ADHD. Once that diagnosis came, suddenly my entire personality made sense. My husband, of course, took a little longer to catch on. Sometimes he still has that “Is this real?” look on his face, but he’s learning. Slowly. Like dial-up internet slowly.
We’re figuring out life together, even if it feels like assembling IKEA furniture without instructions.
Our Daughter as a Toddler: The Signs Were There (Loudly, Actually)
From the start, something in my gut kept whispering, “Hey… this isn’t typical.” Meanwhile, our daughter was reading full-on newspaper articles before age two. The doctors basically acted like we were raising a tiny prodigy and said everything was fine.
Sure. Fine.
Except:
- her eye contact was nonexistent,
- she twirled like she was training for the Olympics of Spinning,
- she practically lived in headphones,
- loud noises were her personal villain origin story,
- meltdowns lasted longer than some Netflix movies,
- and transitions? Forget it. Total disaster.
But every time I mentioned anything, people brushed it off.
And I blamed myself. Of course I did. I’m a mom — it’s what we do.
Turns out, the signs were practically waving neon signs at us. But, we still almost missed them.
Our First Clue: Sensory Processing Disorder
In 2nd grade, after several more gut feelings and a few quiet breakdowns, I pushed again. We finally got referred to an Occupational Therapist. After a long evaluation, we got our first label: Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD).
And honestly? It made SO much sense.
We did OT for a year. She graduated. We assumed life would get easier.
Spoiler alert: it did not.
2024: When Puberty Entered the Chat
Late 2024 hit, and suddenly everything shifted. She started telling us other kids called her “weird.” She withdrew into her room. She was anxious, overwhelmed, and her meltdowns made a dramatic comeback.
We tried to convince ourselves it was just puberty. Hormones. Pre-teen angst. The usual emotional rollercoaster.
We put her back in OT and added online talk therapy. It helped… but not enough.
And then early 2025 happened.
She mentioned self-harm.
My stomach dropped.
My heart shattered.
And every alarm bell that ever existed went off.
That was the exact moment I told my husband, “We’re getting a full psychological evaluation. No discussion.”
And that’s when we finally got the autism diagnosis.
The Autism Diagnosis: Unexpected Relief and All the Feelings
Let me tell you something unexpected: relief was my first emotion. Real, deep, breath-I-didn’t-know-I-was-holding relief.
Not because autism is easy — it’s not.
Not because everything suddenly made sense — though it did.
But because I finally knew I wasn’t imagining her struggles. Or mine.
We switched her to in-person therapy, which has been a much better fit. Things are still hard — meltdowns still happen, anxiety still happens, and we watch the self-harm thoughts very closely — but at least now we know what she’s up against.
We’re finally fighting the right battles.
How This Affected Our Marriage (AKA: The Real Test)
If you ever want to test the strength of your marriage, try raising a neurodivergent kid while navigating your own ADHD. It’s like a team-building exercise from hell.
We had to learn:
- how to communicate without snapping,
- how to support each other even when we’re exhausted,
- how to be on the same page when we weren’t even reading the same book,
- and how to stay united when the house felt like an emotional tornado zone.
Some days we crushed it.
Other days… one of us considered living in the garage.
But therapy — together and individually — changed everything. It gave us tools. It gave us perspective. It gave us reasons to stop blaming each other and start understanding each other.
Honestly? Therapy didn’t just help our marriage.
It saved it.
Where We Are Now: Still Standing (Somehow)
Our daughter’s journey is still unfolding. Our marriage is still evolving. Parenting is still hard and emotional and overwhelming and beautiful — usually all within the same 90 minutes.
But here’s the part that matters:
We’re present.
We’re committed.
We’re learning every day.
We’re showing up — emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and sometimes sarcastically — because humor is a survival strategy. And that, I believe, is why we’ve made it 17 years.
And why I’m confident we’ll make it many more — just with a little more caffeine.