ADHD Parenting: When Push Through Doesn’t Work

When Routine Falls Apart

It was supposed to be a normal jiu jitsu night. My two autistic daughters had been attending classes for the last 3 weeks, finding their rhythm in the predictable Tuesday evening routine. But this week, everything changed at once.

I thought it would be a good idea to attend Thursday night instead of Tuesday – we’d been getting over a cold, and I’d informed the girls who agreed to the change.

As per usual with my time blindness, we were running late. This is where my ADHD becomes a family problem – I can’t seem to get things done unless I’m anxious. I rely on that surge of panic to finally propel me into action, but everyone around me suffers in the process.

In the chaos of getting ready, my younger daughter couldn’t find her pants – the ones that felt “right” against her skin. My anxiety was now in full swing, and instead of helping her regulate, I was adding to the chaos.

In a panic, I yelled: “Just wear my pants, it will be fine! We have to go, we’re running late!”

What followed was a sensory meltdown that left me questioning everything about how we approach challenges as a family.

The “Push Through” Problem

As I watched my younger daughter struggle with the overwhelming changes and sensory discomfort, I could see the distress in her eyes. But we eventually made it to class.

I watched my eldest join the group on the mat. As I observed her, you could see she was trying really hard to push through. Her eyes were welling up with tears. The instructor called out, “Everyone line up against the wall and start stretching,” and she followed with her head faced down, shoulders hunched over. I watched tears start to fall and hit the mat.

I got her attention and embraced her with a hug.

She pushed away and said in a stern voice, “I’m fine. I will just keep going.”

In that moment, I said to her, “Let’s go home. It’s okay, you gave it your best shot. We showed up and you did your best – let’s just go.”

I was starting to see something troubling: my daughters were masking their true responses, learning to suppress their authentic feelings and hide their struggles when they should have been learning to advocate for their needs.

My Own ADHD Creates Chaos

Here’s the uncomfortable truth I’m still grappling with: my ADHD doesn’t just affect me but it affects my entire family. I’ve built my life around anxiety-driven productivity, relying on that last-minute panic to get anything done. But when you’re parenting neurodivergent kids who need calm, predictable responses, this approach becomes toxic.

That night at jiu jitsu wasn’t just about my daughters struggling with changes. It was about me creating unnecessary chaos because I can’t seem to function without the adrenaline rush of being late, unprepared, or overwhelmed.

My younger daughter needed help finding pants that felt right on her skin. What she got instead was a stressed, anxious mother yelling at her to just wear whatever because we were running late yet again.

I’m learning that I can’t help my daughters regulate their emotions when I’m not regulating my own. My anxiety becomes their anxiety. My overwhelm becomes family overwhelm. And my ADHD coping mechanisms, procrastination until panic kicks in can create the exact opposite environment my autistic daughters need to thrive.

This realization has been as important as learning about their needs: I have to address my own patterns if I want to create a supportive environment for them.

Understanding Neurodivergent Overwhelm

For neurotypical brains, pushing through discomfort can build genuine resilience. But for autistic minds dealing with sensory overload, schedule changes, and social uncertainty all at once, pushing through often leads to:

• Shutdowns or meltdowns (sometimes delayed)
• Increased masking behaviors
• Loss of trust in their own emotional responses
• Burnout that can last for days or weeks

That night at jiu jitsu, what looked like my daughters “not trying hard enough” was actually their nervous systems in complete overwhelm, unable to access the problem-solving parts of their brains.

Reframing Resilience

I knew I needed to examine my own approach to challenges and setbacks. I wanted my daughters to be strong and capable, but I was realizing my methods might not be working.

I started thinking about what I’d learned about neurodivergent brains: “When their nervous system is overwhelmed, their brain literally can’t access the problem-solving parts. It’s not about willpower or character.”

A New Approach: Support First, Challenge Second

The next week, when we returned to jiu jitsu we tried our new approach. 

Step 1: Acknowledge the struggle

“This is really overwhelming right now. That makes complete sense.”

Step 2: Provide emotional safety

“You’re not in trouble. We’re going to figure this out together.”

Step 3: Collaborative problem-solving

“What feels manageable right now? What might help?”

Step 4: Build on success

“Look how you handled that challenge when you felt supported.”

This isn’t about lowering expectations or avoiding challenges. It’s about making sure the foundation of safety and support is solid before asking kids to stretch and grow. 

The Ongoing Balance

I won’t pretend we’ve figured it all out. The reality is that some days we get the balance right and we provide enough support that our daughters feel safe to take on challenges. Other days we miss the mark, either by jumping to problem-solving too quickly or by providing so much comfort that we don’t help them grow.

I am still learning to find the right balance and one thing that I am trying more of now is Instead of “You have to do this, so just deal with it,” I’m trying: “I can see this feels impossible right now. This is something we have to do, so let’s figure out how to make it as manageable as possible for you.”

It’s not perfect. Sometimes there are still tears (theirs and mine). Sometimes we’re late because we spent twenty minutes problem-solving how to make putting on shoes feel less overwhelming. Sometimes I still get it wrong and fall back into “just push through” mode when I’m stressed.

Moving Forward Together

As both a parent and an ADHD counsellor, I’ve learned that our most challenging moments often become our greatest teachers. That night at jiu jitsu not only reminded me but it also taught me more about supporting neurodivergent minds.

I’m still working on managing my own ADHD patterns – the anxiety-driven productivity, the last-minute rushes that create chaos for everyone. Some days I succeed in creating the calm, predictable environment my daughters need. Other days, we’re all just doing our best to get through.

Our daughters are learning that their authentic responses matter, that their needs are valid, and that asking for support is a sign of wisdom, not weakness.

That feels like resilience worth building.

Have you struggled with finding the right balance between support and challenge? What approaches have worked (or not worked) in your family? I’d love to hear about your experiences in the comments.