Beyond the Label, A Mother’s Journey into Neurodiversity, Homeschooling, and the Redefinition of Success
For years, no matter where Janice goes or what she does, she is introduced the same way: Aiden’s mama. The label slips into conversations casually—at work, among friends, sometimes even in spaces where her professional identity should lead. At first, it unsettled her. Like many parents, especially mothers, she worked hard to protect her identity beyond parenthood. She wanted to be seen as a whole person: a professional, a thinker, an individual, not just someone’s parent.
But parenting a neurodivergent child, she discovered, quietly dismantles the illusion that identity can be neatly compartmentalized.
Janice is raising a 13-year-old boy on the autism spectrum. Aiden is intelligent, curious, funny, and very much his own person. Along the way, Janice discovered her own neurodivergence—she identifies as an ADHD adult, thanks to one of the evaluations she underwent while getting Aiden tested. These two realities intersect daily, sometimes chaotically, sometimes beautifully, but always in ways that have forced her to unlearn everything society teaches about parenting, success, and even motherhood.
Her story, shared in a deeply personal essay, is not just one family’s narrative. It is a window into a broader conversation about neurodiversity, the limitations of conventional education, the invisible labour of caregiving, and the quiet victories that never make it onto a report card. In a world still designed for one kind of child, Janice and Aiden’s journey offers a powerful alternative vision of what growth, learning, and love can look like.
The Unlearning Begins: No Template, No Benchmarks
Parenting a neurodivergent child, Janice learned early, does not follow a template. There were no predictable milestones to celebrate, no universal benchmarks to chase. The parenting books and well-meaning advice that work for neurotypical children often fell flat. The emotional labour rarely paused. Decision-making happened without clear answers, accompanied by an unrelenting awareness that what works today may not work tomorrow.
This is a reality familiar to millions of parents raising neurodivergent children in India and around the world. The path is uncharted, and the signposts are few. For Janice, the absence of a template became an invitation to create her own. She stopped measuring progress through grades and trophies and started paying attention to quieter victories: a new word spoken, a piece of music mastered, a journey completed without overwhelm, a new friendship.
This shift in perspective is not just a coping mechanism; it is a fundamental redefinition of success. In a society obsessed with rankings, percentages, and linear progress, Janice learned to value the non-linear, the unpredictable, and the deeply personal.
Homeschooling: Freedom from the Friction
For many parents, school calendars dictate life: terms, exams, holidays, comparisons. For Janice and Aiden, those markers are not applicable. Aiden is homeschooled, which means he is perpetually “on vacation” by conventional standards. But what that really means is that learning happens continuously—through music, reading, travel, exploration, motivated by hyperfocus, and lived experiences.
Homeschooling gave Aiden the space to grow at his own pace, without the daily friction of environments not built for how his brain works. Mainstream schools, despite conversations about inclusivity, remain largely designed for one kind of child. Empathy is often assumed rather than explicitly promoted. For a child on the spectrum, the sensory overload, social expectations, and rigid structures can be overwhelming, even traumatic.
The decision to homeschool was not made lightly, but it proved transformative. Most importantly, it helped Aiden find his voice—quite literally. It was during the Covid-19 pandemic, while most neurotypical children were isolated from their friends and peers, that Aiden got his freedom. He began speaking more consistently, a milestone that no report card could have captured. The isolation that was a crisis for others became a liberation for him.
This irony is worth pausing over. A global pandemic that disrupted the education of millions created the conditions for one neurodivergent child to thrive. It is a reminder that “normal” is not neutral. The structures we take for granted—classrooms, timetables, peer groups—are not natural laws. They are human creations, and they do not serve everyone equally.
The Discovery Within: ADHD and the Reframing of Self
One of the most striking aspects of Janice’s story is the discovery of her own neurodivergence through her son’s evaluation. This is a common experience among parents of neurodivergent children. As they learn about their child’s brain, they begin to recognize the same patterns in themselves. Generations of undiagnosed neurodivergence suddenly come into focus.
For Janice, identifying as an ADHD adult was not just a label. It was a reframing of her entire life experience. The struggles, the strengths, the ways her brain worked differently—all of it suddenly made sense. This self-knowledge deepened her empathy for Aiden and equipped her to advocate more effectively for him.
It also connected her to a broader community of neurodivergent individuals and caregivers, a community that is often invisible in mainstream conversations about diversity and inclusion. Neurodiversity, she came to understand, is not just about children in special education. It is about the full spectrum of human cognition, present in every workplace, every family, every social setting.
Adolescence: The World’s Unforgiving Gaze
Aiden is now 13, navigating the already turbulent waters of adolescence with the added complexity of autism. Adolescence brings heightened emotions, sensory sensitivities, and social misunderstandings that are often misread as behavioural problems. The expectation that boys must “toughen up” or “fit in” is particularly unforgiving when your child processes the world differently.
Advocacy became second nature to Janice—explaining, negotiating, and protecting, while also teaching Aiden how to exist confidently in a world that is not always gentle. This is the double burden of parenting a neurodivergent child: you must simultaneously shield them from the world’s harshness and prepare them to navigate it.
Single parenting, unexpectedly, became a source of clarity. With fewer external expectations to manage, Janice was able to accept Aiden’s diagnosis faster and make decisions centred entirely on his needs. Nature replaced regular schools. The absence of forced modifications allowed him to thrive. This is not to romanticize single parenthood, which comes with its own immense challenges, but to note that sometimes fewer voices in the decision-making process can lead to clearer, more child-centred choices.
The Invisible Labour of Caregiving
Janice’s story also shines a light on the invisible labour of caregiving—the emotional toll, the constant vigilance, the resilience required just to keep showing up. This labour is disproportionately borne by women, and it is rarely acknowledged in policy discussions or workplace inclusion initiatives.
At her workplace, Janice began conversations about neurodiversity, not just as a theoretical concept but as a lived reality. She started supporting other caregivers quietly navigating similar paths, both at work and outside it. What often goes missing in inclusion dialogues, she realized, is the caregiver. The focus is typically on the neurodivergent individual—rightly so—but the family system that supports them is often overlooked.
This has implications for employers, policymakers, and society at large. If we want neurodivergent individuals to thrive, we must also support the parents, siblings, and caregivers who make that thriving possible. Flexible work arrangements, mental health support, and community-building initiatives are not luxuries; they are necessities.
Redefining Success: The Quiet Victories
Some days, Janice still resists the label of Aiden’s mama. It feels reductive. But she is realizing that it is not a loss of identity, but a moulding of it. Parenting Aiden has taught her that success is not about fitting into the world as it is, but about making space for who your child already is.
This is a lesson that extends far beyond the neurodivergent community. In a society obsessed with achievement, comparison, and external validation, Janice and Aiden’s journey offers a counter-narrative. It suggests that the most important milestones are not always the ones measured by tests or celebrated by schools. A new word spoken, a piece of music mastered, a journey completed without overwhelm—these are victories too.
And perhaps, Janice reflects, this is something we as adults might also learn. To stop chasing someone else’s definition of success and start paying attention to the quieter, more personal forms of growth. To make space for who we already are, not just who we are told we should be.
Conclusion: The Transformation
“Yes, I am Aiden’s mama,” Janice concludes. “Not as a title that eclipses me, but as a reality that has transformed me.”
It is a powerful reframing. The label that once felt reductive now feels encompassing. It speaks not to a loss of self, but to an expansion of self—a self shaped by love, by struggle, by unlearning, and by the daily practice of seeing the world through a different lens.
In a world that is still adapting to neurodiversity, Janice and Aiden’s story is a beacon. It shows what is possible when we let go of templates, embrace the non-linear, and measure success not by conformity but by flourishing. It is a story of a mother and a son, but it is also a story about all of us—about the work of becoming who we truly are.
Q&A: Unpacking Janice’s Journey
Q1: What does Janice mean when she says parenting a neurodivergent child “dismantles the illusion that identity can be neatly compartmentalized”?
A: Janice is referring to the way parenting a child with different needs seeps into every aspect of life. You cannot clock out of it at 5 PM or leave it at the office door. It shapes your daily routines, your emotional state, your professional choices, your relationships, and your sense of self. The neat categories we use to organize our lives—parent, professional, partner, individual—blur and merge. For Janice, being “Aiden’s mama” is not just one role among many; it is a lens through which she now sees everything. This can feel overwhelming, but it also leads to a more integrated, authentic way of living.
Q2: Why was homeschooling the right choice for Aiden, and what does it reveal about mainstream education?
A: Homeschooling was right for Aiden because it removed him from environments “not built for how his brain works.” Mainstream schools, despite inclusivity rhetoric, are often designed for neurotypical children. They assume a certain pace of learning, a certain tolerance for sensory input, a certain way of socializing. For Aiden, these assumptions created daily friction and overwhelm. Homeschooling allowed learning to happen continuously, through his interests and at his pace. It reveals that the “normal” school model is just one model, not a universal standard. It works for many children, but for others, it can be a source of trauma rather than growth.
Q3: What is the significance of Janice discovering her own ADHD through Aiden’s evaluation?
A: This is a common and powerful experience in the neurodivergent community. As parents learn about their child’s neurology, they often recognize the same patterns in themselves. Generations of undiagnosed neurodivergence suddenly come into focus. For Janice, this discovery was a reframing of her entire life. It helped her understand her own struggles and strengths, deepened her empathy for Aiden, and connected her to a broader community. It also highlights the hereditary nature of many neurodivergent conditions and the importance of looking at the family system, not just the individual child.
Q4: What does Janice mean by the “invisible labour” of caregiving?
A: “Invisible labour” refers to the constant, unacknowledged work that goes into supporting a neurodivergent child. This includes the emotional labour of remaining calm during meltdowns, the mental labour of planning and anticipating needs, the advocacy work of explaining and negotiating with schools, doctors, and others, and the sheer physical exhaustion of showing up day after day. This labour is disproportionately borne by women, and it is rarely recognized in policy, workplace support, or even family dynamics. Janice’s call is for inclusion dialogues to expand beyond the neurodivergent individual to include the caregivers who make their thriving possible.
Q5: What is the ultimate lesson Janice draws from her journey, and why is it relevant to everyone?
A: Janice’s ultimate lesson is that “success is not about fitting into the world as it is, but about making space for who your child already is.” She extends this to a broader reflection: “Maybe it’s also something we as adults might learn too.” The lesson is relevant to everyone because we are all, in some way, pressured to conform to external expectations—of career, of family, of success. Janice’s journey suggests that true fulfilment comes not from meeting those expectations, but from understanding and honouring our own authentic needs and those of the people we love. It is a call to redefine success on our own terms.
