When my son Joseph was born in 1992, I instantly felt like a superhero. Every new mother experiences that overwhelming sense of protectiveness, as if they could leap tall buildings for their little one. However, when Joseph was diagnosed with autism, my superhero instincts didn’t just engage—they became my permanent state of being. This nearly led to my downfall.
For many years, I operated on sheer determination and minimal sleep. I could go without rest for extended periods, endure physical discomfort, and subsist on Joseph’s leftovers. My days began with writing detailed notes to his teachers in a notebook, as cell phones and email weren’t available then. I eagerly awaited the notebook’s return, detailing his day’s events. I organized sleepover parties, hoping he’d make friends, and fought administrators to ensure he received opportunities he deserved. I researched therapies, attended support groups, and advocated tirelessly.
What I didn’t do was stop.
Pausing to catch my breath never crossed my mind. I didn’t realize that even superheroes need to recharge. The only time I truly rested was when exhaustion overcame me completely. As soon as I could function again, I resumed my relentless pace. Despite a constant feeling of despair, I believed I was fine and continued pushing forward.
My body, however, disagreed. At 39, I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes, a condition that nearly ended my life. This diagnosis was the result of years spent ignoring my body’s warnings.
One would think this would be a wake-up call. It wasn’t. Although I improved my diet and continued exercising, I avoided confronting my internal struggles. I excelled at ignoring my own pain.
Then, I was hospitalized with severe full-body hives, a manifestation of years of anxiety, fear, and emotional pain. These hives took eight EpiPen shots, multiple steroids, and diligent diabetes management to subside. Even after months of physical recovery, I had yet to begin healing my heart.
I share this story not out of pride, but because I know I’m not alone. As a certified life coach working with mothers of children on the autism spectrum, I’ve seen my story echoed repeatedly. The specifics may vary, but the pattern is consistent: mothers exhaust themselves for their child’s well-being, neglecting their own needs. They believe that self-care is selfish, that any energy directed inward is energy taken from their child.
It’s a lie. A dangerous one.
Through hard lessons, I’ve learned that self-compassion is essential, not indulgent. It forms the foundation for everything else. When I finally began addressing my inner world during my life coaching training, I rediscovered a profound joy absent for two decades. I learned to treat myself kindly and nurture my entire being—mind, body, and spirit—rather than just ticking off tasks.
I now ask the mothers I coach: How full is your energy tank each morning? Like a car’s gas gauge, is it full, half-full, or nearly empty? Most laugh, knowing their answer.
Wherever your gauge stands, it can be improved. The fuller it is, the better you’ll be for your child, relationships, and life. You can’t guide others if you’re collapsing from exhaustion. Your child needs you healthy, present, and whole—not running on adrenaline and denial until forced to stop.
I only grasped this in my fifties. No matter where you are on your journey or how long you’ve been in superhero mode, it’s never too late to change. Learn from my story and don’t wait for your body to send a drastic message. Meet yourself where you are, take a breath, and start.
Here are four places to start today:
Put your oxygen mask on first
I once heard the airplane oxygen mask metaphor on the Oprah Winfrey Show, transforming my perspective on motherhood. If masks drop and you give yours to your child first, you lose consciousness, becoming useless. This applies to daily life, too. Before you start your daily tasks, do something for yourself. It can be as simple as taking three deep breaths with closed eyes. The point is to prioritize yourself, even if just for a minute.
Catch your self-talk
Pay attention to how you speak to yourself for a day. Write it down. I used to demean myself with thoughts like “Nice one, Brigitte—that was so stupid.” I would never speak to others that way, yet I did it to myself unconsciously. Once you recognize this pattern, begin replacing negative statements with supportive, friend-like language. This practice was pivotal in my healing.
Quiet the crazy monkeys
I refer to the anxious, catastrophic thoughts that plague mothers as “crazy monkeys of fear.” When they arise—worrying about your child’s future or your absence—I use a visual mantra. I imagine floating peacefully down a river, releasing stress with each breath. Though simple, consistent practice makes it effective. Create your own comforting visual and return to it whenever anxiety strikes.
Make a self-compassion craving list
List every act of kindness and self-love you dream of. Don’t judge or rank them. Choose one and imagine doing it for someone you love. Feel the warmth and generosity, then turn it inward. Just one item today. Another tomorrow. Over time, self-compassion will feel like the survival tool it is, not selfishness.
Author Bio
Brigitte M. Volltrauer Shipman is an author, life coach, speaker, and teacher specializing in coaching mothers with children diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). Her current 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 grim predictions after his autism diagnosis, has gained recognition in various radio stations and contributes to political and social causes, including autism advocacy. He enjoys video games, spending time with friends and family, and exploring topics like art, history, and philosophy. A Mother’s Guide Through Autism, Part II: Through the Eyes of the Guided is Joseph’s debut as an author.
Learn more at mothersguidetoautism.
