Our House Runs on Two Operating Systems

I am the neurotypical one in my house.

My children have ADHD and sensory processing differences. My husband is neurodivergent. For years I treated ADHD and SPD in my office with real confidence. I had the training, the certifications, the clinical hours. Then I lived it, and I found out how much my expertise had been missing.

Clinical knowledge is a map. Living in a neurodivergent family is the actual trip, weather included.

Two operating systems, one household

Think of two computer operating systems sharing one network. Neither one is wrong. They run differently and need different settings, and when you force one to behave like the other, everything crashes.

For a long time, I ran our house on my operating system.

Car rides are a good example. My family calls out every sign they see, out loud, for no reason other than to say it. Three voices, not in sync, three narratives at once. My brain goes: What? Where? Why? Do I need to look at something? Nope. They're narrating what they see, and I feel like I'm losing my mind. Or it's movie night, and they flip and flip and flip through Netflix for thirty minutes instead of deciding. My operating system wants a plan. Theirs is enjoying the ride.

What I stopped doing

• I stopped requiring eye contact to prove someone was listening. For many neurodivergent people, looking away is how they listen.

• I stopped saying "just try one bite." Now I offer a curious bite. It tells us what you like or don't like about a food, and the answer is usually texture.

• I stopped treating sensory seeking as defiance. I understood the body was telling me something.

• I stopped talking during meltdowns. My words were just more input for a system already overloaded. Now I start breathing slowly the moment a meltdown begins.

• I stopped expecting my family to regulate so that I'd stay comfortable. I knew I was now the regulator for all of them.

What I started doing

• I regulate myself first. Before I respond, I check in with my body. My regulation is the first intervention.

• Heavy work before hard work. Carry laundry baskets, push against the wall, or use the trampoline before homework.

• Sensory-smart routines. Dim lights in the evening, headphones in the car, a crash pad in the living room, soft clothes washed until they're broken in.

• Predictable transitions, with warnings and visual schedules, so change doesn't ambush anyone.

• Repair, every time. I've lost my patience and said the wrong thing more times than I can count. Growth happens in the repair.

No technique works without safety

People sometimes assume a good parent "calms" any child with the right technique. 

No technique works on a child who doesn't feel safe with the person using it. Regulation is relational. 

Children borrow an adult's nervous system until they can build their own, which is why I trust co-regulation before self-regulation in every developmental framework.

That means the work starts with us. I have no regulation to hand my child that I haven't found in myself first.

A family that plays

Play is the language of regulation and repair, and it has become the language of our house.

When I feel my frustration building, I choose goofy. I get silly with my voice, my tone, my whole body, so they know that even while I'm getting frustrated, we can move through it together.

These aren't breaks from parenting neurodivergent kids. For us, they are the parenting.

The gifts my family brings would fill another blog: their creativity, humor, fierce sense of justice, and the way they notice what I miss. Living with two operating systems has made me a better clinician and a more humble parent. When an exhausted mom sits across from me now, I can say, "I know," and mean it from experience.

If you are the one in your house running a different operating system, you are not failing your family by needing to learn theirs. What is one setting you will change this week?

"I stopped asking my kids to regulate so I could be comfortable. I started regulating so they could feel safe."

Next in the series: When "No" Feels Like a Wound: Rejection Sensitivity and ADHD. Book Cary to speak to parents, educators, or clinicians about neurodiversity-affirming family support: info@olympiatherapy.com. To schedule services, visit olympiatherapy.com.