The moment my son Joseph entered the world in 1992, I transformed into a superhero. Every new mother can relate to that overwhelming instinct to protect, that feeling of sheer strength for this little being. However, when Joseph was diagnosed with autism, my superhero instincts didn’t just activate; they became my entire existence. This relentless pursuit nearly broke me.
For years, I existed on sheer willpower and exhaustion. I could handle nights with little to no sleep. I became an expert at holding my bladder and consumed whatever remained on Joseph’s plate. My mornings were spent meticulously recording notes for his teachers — a necessary practice in a pre-digital era — while my afternoons were filled with anxiety, waiting for the return of that notebook and its account of Joseph’s day. I organized birthday sleepovers in the hopes of encouraging friendships, and I battled educational administrators determined to exclude him from vital programs. My time was dedicated to researching therapies, engaging in support groups, and advocating fervently on his behalf.
What I failed to do was take a break.
Slowing down never crossed my mind. I didn’t realize even superheroes require downtime. The only times I truly rested were when my body finally succumbed to sheer fatigue. As soon as I could manage to lift my head from the pillow, I was off in a flurry until exhaustion hit me once more. Despite the heavy despair that lingered within me, I pushed forward with unwavering resolve. If someone inquired about my wellbeing, I would assure them I was fine. I genuinely believed it.
Yet, my body had its own message. At 39, I received a shocking diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes. It posed a serious threat to my life. This illness now demands daily management — a direct result of years spent ignoring the warning signs from my body.
You might think this would serve as a wake-up call. Unfortunately, it didn’t. My diet improved, I maintained a fitness routine, but a crucial aspect of my self-care remained unaddressed. I fought against confronting my inner turmoil, becoming a champion at denying my own pain.
Then I developed hives. I ended up in the hospital suffering from a severe, full-body outbreak that my doctor claimed was unprecedented. This wasn’t due to any food allergy; rather, it was a tangible manifestation of my frazzled state, persistent anxiety, and years of emotional distress I had suppressed. It took eight EpiPen administrations, several steroid courses, and meticulous diabetes management before the hives finally abated. Even then, my journey toward true healing of the heart had yet to begin.
I share this experience not out of pride but to highlight a shared struggle. In my journey as a certified life coach, working with mothers of autistic children, I have repeatedly witnessed my own story mirrored in others. While the specifics may vary, the pattern remains consistent: a mother dedicates herself entirely to her child’s welfare, neglecting her own needs. Often, she subconsciously believes that weariness is a part of motherhood and that prioritizing self-care is selfish — if she takes time for herself, she is somehow robbing her child.
This is a misconception. A perilous one.
My hard-earned lesson is that self-compassion is not a form of self-indulgence; rather, it is the bedrock that enables everything else to flourish. Through my life coaching training and engaging in inner work, I began to rediscover a joy I hadn’t known for two decades. I learned the importance of how I communicated with myself. I started nurturing my entire being — mind, body, and spirit — instead of merely checking off tasks while being drained of energy and happiness.
Now, when I coach mothers, I pose them a simple yet profound question: How energized do you feel at the start of each new day? Picture your car’s fuel gauge. Is it full, half-full, or nearing empty? Most chuckle, already aware of the answer.
Wherever your gauge stands, it can be more full. The fuller your tank, the better equipped you are for your child, your relationships, and every other facet of life. You cannot navigate someone else through challenges if you’re barely holding it together yourself. Your child needs you to be healthy, engaged, and whole — not merely surviving on adrenaline and denial until your body forces you to stop.
I only grasped this in my fifties. It’s irrelevant where you are on your personal journey or how long you’ve operated in superhero mode. It’s never too late to make a change. Please, let my experiences serve as a guide — do not wait for your body to send a distress signal. Acknowledge where you are, take a moment to breathe, and begin anew.
Here are four steps to initiate today:
Put on your own oxygen mask first
I once encountered the airplane oxygen mask analogy on the Oprah Winfrey Show, and it shifted my perspective on motherhood. If oxygen masks descend and you choose to assist your child first, you risk losing consciousness, making you useless to anyone. The same logic applies to daily living. Before checking emails, packing lunches, or reaching out to the school, take a moment for yourself that replenishes your energy. Even just three mindful, deep breaths with your eyes closed can suffice. The goal is to prioritize yourself, even if just for a brief moment.
Monitor your self-talk
For an entire day, take note of how you communicate with yourself. Document it. I used to berate myself with comments like, “Good job, Brigitte — that was so foolish.” I would never treat another individual that way, yet I did it to myself consistently, often unconsciously. Once I recognized the negativity in writing, I began substituting each harsh remark with words I would use for a close friend. This simple action catalyzed a profound change in my healing journey.
Calm the chaotic thoughts
I refer to the anxious, worst-case scenario thoughts that plague mothers as the “fear-filled monkeys.” When they swing into action — What if he can’t cope alone? What happens when I’m no longer here? — I employ a visual mantra. I envision myself floating along a river’s current rather than flailing against it, smiling and enjoying my surroundings. I pause to breathe and release the stress. While it may seem straightforward, if practiced consistently, it becomes effective. Create a personal image that brings you tranquility and flow, revisiting it whenever those monkeys begin to stir.
Compile a list of self-compassion cravings
Take a seat and jot down every act of kindness or self-love you yearn for. Avoid judgment or ranking what you record. Select one and imagine providing it to someone you cherish — savor that warm, generous energy. Then, reverse it and extend that kindness to yourself. Just focus on one item for today, and tomorrow choose another. Over time, self-compassion will shift from feeling selfish to becoming an essential component of survival.
Author Bio
Brigitte M. Volltrauer Shipman is an author, life coach, speaker, and educator. She focuses on coaching mothers of children diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). Her latest book is A Mother’s Guide Through Autism, Through the Eyes of The Guided. She is also the author of Is It a God Thing?
Joseph D. Shipman, despite bleak forecasts following his autism diagnosis, has made a name for himself working at various radio stations and dedicates his time to numerous political and social causes, including autism advocacy. He enjoys gaming, spending quality time with friends and family, and exploring topics such as art, history, and philosophy. His book A Mother’s Guide Through Autism, Part II: Through the Eyes of the Guided marks Joseph’s debut as an author.
Discover more at mothersguidetoautism.