Perfectly Imperfect

22/02/2026

Neuro-affirming doesn’t mean above accountability.

Being neurodivergent doesn’t exempt someone from ethical standards. Being trauma-informed doesn’t remove the need for governance. Being an advocate doesn’t give permission to harm in the name of “safety.”

Power exists in our movement now. There are directors. Boards. Influencers. Large platforms. Funding streams. Reputations on the line.

And when power goes unchecked, it doesn’t matter how affirming the branding is.

If people are scared to disagree…
If private messages get shared publicly…
If dissent leads to exile…

That’s not safety.

We cannot criticise coercive systems while replicating coercive culture inside our own spaces.

Neuro-affirming must include power awareness.
It must include humility.
It must include accountability.

Otherwise, we’re not disrupting the norm.

We’re just repainting it.

16/02/2026

“He’s fine at school.”

If I had a dollar for every time a parent was told that…

“He’s fine at school.”
“She doesn’t do that here.”
“We don’t see those behaviours.”

Cool. And when does he fall apart? At home. With you. In the car.
At bedtime. Over absolutely nothing. Over everything. And suddenly it becomes:

“Maybe it’s your parenting.”
“Maybe you need firmer boundaries.”
“Maybe you’re reinforcing it.”

Let me say this clearly:
Children don’t fall apart where they feel unsafe. They fall apart where they feel safe enough to. Masking is expensive.

For autistic and ADHD kids especially, school can be eight hours of:
• sensory suppression
• social decoding
• compliance
• performance
• holding it together

That is cognitive labour. That is nervous system strain. That is survival mode. The prefrontal cortex (thinking brain) gets tired.
The amygdala (threat system) gets loud. Cortisol builds up all day.

So when they walk through the door?

Boom.

You’re not seeing “bad behaviour.” You’re seeing nervous system discharge. You’re seeing decompression. You’re seeing the crash after a full day of self-control.

The fact they hold it together at school doesn’t mean they’re fine. It often means they’re in survival mode. And survival mode always collects a debt. Usually paid at home. With the safest person.

You.

So if your child is “perfect” at school and volcanic at home… It doesn’t mean you’re failing. It usually means you are their safest place. And that’s not weakness. That’s attachment. That’s trust.

Now, does that mean we just accept aggression? No.

But we respond with:
• regulation support
• sensory understanding
• lower demand transitions
• decompression rituals
• realistic expectations

Not shame. Not blame. Not “he doesn’t do that here.” Because kids don’t save their hardest moments for people they don’t trust. They save them for the ones who feel like home. And that tells you everything.

– Jess
Perfectly Imperfect
Neurodiversity affirming. Always.

13/02/2026

Fo you think we, as a society, could stop calling neurodivergent kids “so resilient.”???

They’re not resilient.

They’re surviving.

There’s a difference.

Resilience is growing with support.
Survival is adapting without it.

When a child:
• shuts down instead of melting down
• masks to avoid being targeted
• forces eye contact
• scripts conversations
• stops asking for help
• “holds it together” all day

That’s not resilience.

That’s a nervous system in threat mode.

And the scary part?

We reward it.

We praise the quiet child.
We praise the compliant one.
We praise the one who doesn’t “cause issues.”

Then we’re shocked when they crash at home.
Or at 14.
Or at 24.

Burnout isn’t a personality flaw.

It’s the long-term cost of survival.

If a system requires a child to override their nervous system to succeed, that system isn’t building resilience.

It’s building trauma tolerance.

And those are not the same thing.

12/02/2026

We need to talk about invisible emotional labour in parenting.

Not the washing.
Not the lunches.
Not the school drop-offs.

The cognitive load. The parent who:

– researches the diagnosis
– books the appointments
– writes the school emails
– understands the triggers
– anticipates transitions
– manages the meltdowns
– carries the therapy language
– tracks the funding
– reads the legislation

And then…

The other parent says,
“Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” Or worse, swans in after the hard part is done and takes credit for the outcome.

This isn’t about divorce. It happens in intact families too.

One parent becomes the nervous system manager.
The other gets to be reactive. And when you try to explain the load, you’re “controlling.”
When you set boundaries, you’re “difficult.”
When you refuse to absorb the consequences of poor decisions, you’re “not co-operating.”

You cannot co-parent effectively if one person carries 90% of the emotional labour. And if you’re parenting a neurodivergent child?

The stakes are higher. Because inconsistency isn’t neutral, it’s destabilising.

Shared parenting isn’t about 50/50 time. It never was!

It’s about 50/50 responsibility for:
– learning
– regulating
– repairing
– planning
– holding structure

If you’re the parent who feels defensive reading this?

It might be worth asking why.

10/02/2026

Highly recommend this amazing free smworkshop for providers to attend to learn more about our q***r, neurodivergent community, and how to support them.

This interactive workshop, led by industry experts, gives you clear, practical steps to create safer, more affirming support for LGBTQIA+ autistic people

30/01/2026

Co-parenting with a neurodivergent parent who is in denial is one of the hardest dynamics no one prepares you for.

Especially when you’re parenting a neurodivergent young person.

Because on paper, it looks like there should be a middle ground. Compromise. Balance. “Meeting in the middle.”

But in reality?
That middle ground often doesn’t exist.

When one parent is neurodivergent but hasn’t acknowledged it or is actively avoiding it everything becomes framed as:
• “You’re overreacting”
• “You’re making excuses”
• “You’re too soft”
• “They need to toughen up”

And suddenly, supporting your child’s nervous system is seen as indulgence. Accommodation is framed as weakness. And trauma-informed care is dismissed as poor boundaries.

Meanwhile, you’re watching your child unravel not because they’re incapable, but because they’re being asked to function in ways that go against their neurology.

You’re trying to explain to the other parent:
• why consistency matters
• why shame doesn’t build resilience
• why forcing compliance increases distress
• why “just push through” causes harm

And the response is often defensiveness, minimisation, or silence.

So you’re left carrying:
• the emotional labour
• the education
• the advocacy
• the repair
• the fallout

All while being told you’re the problem.

You cannot find “middle ground” between regulation and dysregulation.
Between safety and survival mode.
Between trauma-aware and trauma-blind.

This isn’t about being difficult.
It’s about recognising when compromise actually causes harm.

Supporting a neurodivergent child sometimes means standing firm even when it costs you peace, approval, or the illusion of co-parenting harmony.

And if you’re in this space, you are navigating an impossible dynamic with clarity, courage, and a deep commitment to your child’s wellbeing.

And that matters, more than you will ever know!

29/01/2026

NDIS Heads Up for Adult Participants!

We’re seeing such an increase in NDIS planners and LACs contacting adult participants directly on weekends, describing the call as a “check-in” or “touching base”, but then moving into plan review or funding discussions.

These calls are often:

-Unscheduled

-Without prior email or written notice

-Without a Support Coordinator present

-Occurring outside business hours

I want you to know that if this happens to you, you are allowed to pause the conversation!

You can say:

“I’m unwell and not able to engage right now. Please email me to arrange a suitable time.”

You do not need to continue the call.

You do not need to answer questions on the spot.

You do not need to explain why you need notice or support.

If the call leaves you overwhelmed, pressured, or dysregulated, that’s a sign it isn’t the right time to be having the conversation.

Please share this with other adult participants , many people don’t realise this is happening or that they can set a boundary!

29/01/2026

I don’t make decisions about school with a calm, neutral nervous system.

I make them with a body that remembers
being misunderstood, being managed,
being harmed by systems that said they were helping.

And then I became a parent and collected a whole new layer of trauma watching my child go through it too.

So no, this isn’t a simple choice between
school or homeschooling.

It’s a decision made inside fear, protection, grief, hope all at once.

Some days school feels possible.
Some days it feels dangerous.
Some days homeschooling feels like safety.
Some days it feels isolating.

And the hardest truth I’ve had to accept?
There is no trauma-free option.
Only the least unsafe option for right now.

If you’re stuck in the loop of second-guessing yourself,
you’re not failing.

You’re parenting inside lived experience.
And that matters more than anyone else’s opinion.

28/01/2026

Anhedonia in AuDHD (Quick Explaination!!)

Anhedonia is a reduced ability to feel pleasure or interest. Not to be confused with sadness, laziness, or lack of gratitude.

For AuDHD people, it’s usually a nervous system response, not a mood issue.

Common drivers:
• chronic stress and masking
• autistic + ADHD burnout
• ongoing demand and pressure
• dopamine dysregulation

When the brain is in survival mode, it prioritises safety over pleasure.
Joy is neurologically “switched off” until the system feels safe again.

That’s why:
• things you used to love feel flat
• motivation disappears
• forcing enjoyment doesn’t work

What helps:
• reducing demands
• predictability and regulation
• neutral, low-pressure activities
• time, without shame

For AuDHD brains, safety comes first, pleasure follows.

Remember that song, if you’re happy and you know it? I didn’t know it!!

27/01/2026

Swimming isn’t just exercise for AuDHD kids and adults, it’s nervous system regulation in its purest form.

AuDHD brains process sensory information differently. There’s often too much input, not enough filtering, and a nervous system living in near-constant fight, flight, or overwhelm. Swimming meets that need at a body-based level without words, pressure, or compliance.

The neuroscience behind why it works:

Swimming provides a rare combination of vestibular input (movement, balance, orientation) and proprioceptive input (deep muscle and joint feedback). The water’s resistance and pressure give constant sensory feedback, helping the brain organise itself and feel safe.

Water also provides deep pressure which helps switch off fight-or-flight and activate the calming parasympathetic nervous system. For many kids, this is why regulation happens within minutes.

The rhythmic, repetitive movements of swimming support dopamine regulation, bilateral brain integration, and emotional containment especially important for ADHD and PDA-profile nervous systems.

Swimming allows movement without demands, correction, or social pressure. Bodies aren’t wrong in the water. Kids can move, stim, float, rest, and regulate in ways that feel natural and safe.

This isn’t a behaviour strategy.
It’s a nervous system support.

When we meet regulation needs at the sensory level, behaviour doesn’t need to escalate to be heard.

Do you reckon we could start doing school learning in the water? Radical!

26/01/2026

I won’t lie, this time of year is hard for me.

Everyone talks about the “fresh start” of a new school year, but my body doesn’t forget what we’ve lived through.

The phone calls.
The tears.
The moments where my child tried so hard to fit into a system that wasn’t built for them.

I can see it in my child when school talk starts again.
The tension.
The questions they don’t ask out loud.
The way their body tells me before their words ever do.

And in the years we’ve chosen homeschooling or doing things differently, like i suspect we are about to
Do again! That comes with mixed feelings too.

Relief.
Grief.
Anger.
Peace.

And sometimes doubt not because I made the wrong choice, but because the world is very loud when you don’t follow the script.

Here’s what I want other parents to hear:
You are not weak for finding this season hard.
Your child is not broken for struggling.
And choosing safety over systems is not failure, it’s love.

This year, I’m reminding myself:
My child doesn’t need to be brave.
They need to feel safe.

And I don’t need to justify that to anyone.