When You’re Running on Empty: Energy Survival Tips from a Special Needs Mom

I went to a presentation about education guidance for autistic students and left feeling like an unintended guru.

A fellow autistic mom suggested we attend—even though our boys had graduated from high school years earlier. I remember thinking, How is something I needed years ago going to help me now?

In the end, I went hoping my story might offer a bit of guidance—maybe help someone feel more prepared than I did.

The forum was small. A couple of speakers, and about 25 parents.

At the end, everyone had a chance to speak and ask questions. We purposely waited to go last, just in case time ran out—wanting the parents still in the thick of it to be heard.

As I listened, I was transported back. I felt their frustration, their anger, their sadness around the lack of support for their children. My energy was absorbing it all.

Then it was my turn.

“Every school year felt like being a pioneer on a new frontier,” I said—hoping I didn’t sound too despondent.

The room went quiet. Eyes widened. Suddenly, all attention was on me—like I was about to recite my greatest mantras… of autistic advocacy.

Team meetings were intimidating and often sparked more burnout. Just me, sitting across from three or five educators. Heads nodded—been there.

With each meeting, I dug deeper into my resolve to get my son’s needs met.

I shared how I advocated for him to take a high school art class. After multiple rejections, the head of the department asked for a portfolio—likely expecting it would justify her decision.

It didn’t.

My tenacity paid off—amazing for my son, but it took me to another level of burnout.

While most students took art as an easy credit, my son showed up and proved his talent in ways they didn’t expect. That small win replenished me—temporarily—until the next boundary to cross.

My story wasn’t all heavy. I told them how he was now attending college in a program for students with special needs—another accomplishment that took careful navigating. I could see hope flicker across their faces.

When it ended, I couldn’t even get out of my chair.

Parents rushed over—not for an autograph, but close. They wanted to know how I got through it. The playbook. The roadmap. Something I wished I had—with less stress.

My story illustrated one thing clearly:

I never gave up.

But those years? I was living in a constant state of putting one foot in front of the other.

Appointments. Advocacy. Emotional support. Sensory awareness. Planning ahead. Holding everything together that most people never see.

I was functioning on belief and love for my son—even when my energy struggled.

Some days I was okay. Other days, I was running on invisible reserves—just enough to get through the next thing.

And through it all, I couldn’t escape the loneliness.

Not always being alone—but feeling alone in how life was unfolding. I didn’t have a map for my experience. Hence the pioneer analogy… just without the Little House on the Prairie wardrobe.

Still, I found my way—refilling in small ways with love, joy, hope, and laughter. Small moments of connection that made everything feel worth it again.

That’s how I got through it.

Slowly. Imperfectly. Intuitively.

While developing a mindful practice along the way.

Burnout Signals

My burnout didn’t always look like collapsing into a pile.

Sometimes it looked like:

• constant fatigue that sleep didn’t fix

• emotional numbness or overwhelm

• not feeling like myself

• losing patience over small things

• loneliness, even around others

• feeling like there was no “off switch”

Do you recognize any of these?

Learning How to Replenish My Energy

I didn’t find one big solution. I found a combination of small healing moments.

1. Mindful pauses

A few minutes of silence. Breath work in the car. Taking a moment before jumping to the next thing.

2. Grounding myself

Simple things helped more than I expected:

• stepping outside—even briefly

• looking at trees or water

• slow breathing (in for 4, hold for 6, out for 4)

• guided meditations

3. Letting go of comparisons

I stopped wondering how my life would look in a neurotypical world. That wasn’t my path. Accepting that gave me space to breathe.

4. Taking support

Support didn’t have to be big. Sometimes it was coffee with a friend where we talked about anything but the hard stuff. Sometimes it was someone who just got it—for me, other autistic parents.

5. Choosing small moments of joy

Not as escape—but as fuel. Music while making dinner. A walk. A cup of tea without multitasking. Small reminders that I still existed inside my life.

The Loneliness No One Talks About

One of the hardest parts for me was the emotional isolation.

Family and friends care—but they don’t always understand the intensity of your daily reality. And that creates a quiet distance that’s hard to name.

I had to learn that loneliness didn’t have to define my experience—I had some choice in how I responded to it.

Because connection is a human need. It matters just as much as caregiving.

Parenting in general can take over your identity. Special needs parenting can completely hijack it if you’re not intentional about creating space for yourself.

Whether you are a parent or not:

It’s okay to take a day off.It’s okay to not feel guilty.Doing what sparks you matters.

Finding Joy Anyway

I’ll admit—joy felt scarce for a while.

Until I started seeing it differently.

What surprised me most is that joy doesn’t disappear in hard seasons.

It shows up in:

• unexpected laughter

• small wins that feel huge (like that art class)

• quiet moments of connection

Joy doesn’t erase the hard parts. But it gives you something to hold onto while you move through them.

If You’re Here Too

If you’re living in this space of exhaustion, love, and emotional intensity, I want to say what I wish I had said to those parents:

Getting through it means looking after yourself. You won’t get very far on your roadmap if you’re running on empty.

You are allowed to replenish.

You are allowed to pause.

You are allowed to be a person—not just someone holding it all together behind the chaos.

You don’t have to do it all at once. It took me years to build a practice as consistent as my morning ginger tea almond milk latte (highly recommend—delicious and calming).

Progress comes more easily when you stop overthinking, chasing, or fighting what is.

Stop spilling the tea—it drains your energy. Start refilling—little by little.

As always... keep what resonates.

XO, Andrea

Intuitive Healer • Tarot Reader • Creative Mentor