Two of my children have officially flown the nest. They’re out in the world, building lives of their own and I’m so bloody proud of them. But as an ADHD parent, this change hit differently than I expected. It’s not just a life transition; it’s a full-body experience that’s been equal parts emotional, disorienting, and oddly quiet.
Well… mostly quiet.
Because while my older two are off finding their paths, I still have one little bird at home, my 8-year-old, who’s also neurodivergent. And loud!
Parenting a young ND child while processing the emotions of older children moving out is a bit like living in two realities. On one hand, I’m grieving the end of one chapter, missing the noise, the shared chaos, the late-night conversations. On the other, I’m still very much in the thick of parenting: navigating sensory needs, emotional dysregulation, and the beautiful, exhausting intensity that comes with raising a neurodivergent kid.
And with ADHD in the mix, transitions aren’t a clean break. My time blindness makes it hard to grasp how fast everything has changed. Emotionally, I can go from feeling deep grief one minute to hyperfocusing on a painting the next. The quiet moments are jarring, but the busy ones don’t always feel grounding either.
What I didn’t expect was how identity-shaking this would all feel. For years, parenting has been my anchor, the structure that helped me function when executive dysfunction made everything else fall apart. Now, I’m trying to figure out who I am in this new season, especially with one foot still firmly planted in active parenting.
There’s pride, of course. So much pride in the young adults my older kids are becoming, and deep love for the little one who still needs me daily. But there’s also this quiet ache. A sense of standing in the middle of a bridge, waving goodbye with one hand while holding tightly with the other.
I’m learning that both things can be true:
I can miss the way things were while still embracing what’s ahead. I can feel untethered while still being needed. I can rediscover myself without letting go of who I’ve always been.
If you’re an ADHD parent navigating mixed-stage parenting, I see you. If you’re grieving the changes while still showing up every day for the little ones who aren’t quite ready to launch, I see you, too.
This isn’t a clean-cut transition. It’s layered, messy, and full of emotion. But it’s also a chance for reflection, for reconnection, and for finding out who we are beyond the roles we’ve held for so long.
We’re growing, too.
Sensory Soul 