Sometimes, our hardest relationships are the ones closest to home. For those of us who are late-diagnosed with AuDHD (Autism and ADHD), managing complex family dynamics can feel like trying to balance on a knife’s edge. Add depression and burnout to the mix, and the weight of expectations, guilt, and obligation can feel nearly unbearable.
I want to start by saying this is hard. And you’re not alone.
Many of us grow up internalizing this idea that we owe our parents something, that their care for us as children should be repaid in full, no matter the cost. When your parent is elderly and relies on you, that sense of duty can go into overdrive. But what happens when you’re already running on empty? What if helping them drains you more than you can handle?
For those of us navigating late-diagnosed AuDHD, the dynamics can feel even more fraught. We’re living with years of misunderstanding, maybe even feelings of being unseen or unsupported in our own struggles. And yet here we are, still feeling obligated to be the helper, even though our bodies and minds are shouting, I can’t do this anymore.
If any of this resonates, take a deep breath. You’re doing your best, and that is enough. I’d like to share some reflections and strategies that may help you find a way forward while prioritizing your well-being.
Setting boundaries doesn’t come naturally to many of us, especially if saying “no” feels like you’re letting someone down. But boundaries aren’t about rejection - they’re about protecting what little energy you have so you can keep showing up in ways that don’t break you.
Start small. Is there one task that feels particularly overwhelming? It could be something as big as running errands or as small as a phone call that steals your focus for hours. Practice gently expressing your limits. Something like, “Mom, I’ve been really struggling with energy lately. I can’t do X, but I could help with Y,” allows you to maintain a role in their life without sacrificing your health.
Boundaries aren’t easy to enforce, and they can kick up a lot of guilt. But over time, they become necessary if we’re going to survive and thrive.
That guilt you feel? It’s real, but it doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. Many of us carry this internalized voice, whispering things like “If I don’t do everything, I’ve failed them.” But what if we rewrote that narrative?
You’re not failing by prioritizing your health. You’re honouring the fact that your capacity, your limits, and your needs matter too. Feeling guilty is uncomfortable, but it’s just a feeling. It doesn’t deserve to steer your actions.
Sometimes, people lean too hard on us simply because they don’t fully understand what we’re carrying. If you think your parent might be receptive, consider sharing resources or personal insights that explain AuDHD and burnout. Something as simple as, “This is what my brain feels like on a daily basis,” can open a door to better understanding.
Not everyone will be ready or willing to learn about your neurodivergence, and that’s okay. But offering them the chance to see your world through your eyes can sometimes ease the pressure.
If financial support from your parent feels like a chain binding you to their expectations, you’re not alone in that struggle. It’s so easy to fall into a transactional mindset, thinking, They help me financially, so I owe them everything.
But what if you reframed this dynamic? Could it be possible that their support is simply their way of ensuring you’re cared for? A kindness, not a debt? Of course, it’s still a two-way relationship, but their help doesn’t mean you’re required to push past your own limits to repay it.
Lastly, you don’t have to bear this alone. Whether it’s in therapy, with supportive friends, or in online communities, finding spaces where others understand your struggles can be profoundly healing. Spaces where people can say, “Yes, I’ve been there too,” have a magic way of making us feel less alone.
If you haven’t already, look into neurodivergent communities online. You might find people who not only validate your feelings but also share tools and strategies that have worked for them. Because at the end of the day, we’re stronger when we come together.
It’s okay to take up space in your own life. It’s okay to prioritize your health and your needs, even if it feels like you’re disappointing someone else. That’s not selfishness; it’s survival.
You don’t have to abandon care for your parent. There’s a way to show love while protecting your boundaries. It’s not all-or-nothing; it’s about finding balance in the grey areas.
We’re navigating generations of expectation on a nervous system that’s already stretched thin.
And that is not nothing.