Some Days I Don’t Want to Fight Anymore
There are days I feel like I can’t do it anymore. Days when the fight - for understanding, for inclusion, for compassion - drains me dry.
I walked into another “behaviour support” meeting at my son’s school recently, holding all my hope and calm in shaking hands. I was ready to advocate, ready to explain, ready to remind them that my son isn’t “difficult”… he’s communicating through behaviour because he can’t speak the words.
But the conversation slipped, as it so often does, from curiosity to control. From collaboration to compliance. Suddenly, I wasn’t a mother offering insight; I was a mother being quietly blamed. If only we were stricter. If only we set more limits. If only we parented differently.
By the time I got to the car, I felt nothing. Just a deep, heavy blankness.
When the Fight Turns Into Freeze
That numbness? It’s not weakness… it’s your nervous system protecting you.
According to Polyvagal Theory, our bodies have three core states:
🟢 Safety and connection - when we feel calm, open, and grounded.
🟡 Fight or flight - when we’re activated and on edge, trying to solve or escape a threat.
🔴 Shutdown - when the overwhelm becomes too much to bear.
That last one is what happened to me. It’s called dorsal vagal shutdown, a kind of self-protection. My body said, “Enough.”
Dr. Deb Dana calls this a survival response, not a failure. And that reframing matters - because so often, when we’re mothers of children with additional needs, our nervous systems live in constant yellow. Always alert, always scanning, always ready to defend our child. Until one day, we tip into red.
So if you’ve ever gone numb after yet another meeting, meltdown, or letter that dismisses your child… you’re not broken. You’re burned out.
The Everyday Trauma of Advocacy
I wish I could say these moments were rare. They’re not.
There’s the IEP. The behaviour plan. The email that starts with “We’re concerned about…” The way your stomach drops every time the school number flashes on your phone.
And through it all, you become the expert - not because you wanted to, but because your child’s wellbeing depends on it. You learn about apraxia, sensory regulation, trauma-informed care, and legal entitlements. You read more than you sleep.
And still, in the meeting, you’re “just the mum.”
The power imbalance is baked in… and it’s exhausting.
Dr. Aditi Nerurkar, author of The 5 Resets, reminds us that chronic stress changes how our brain functions. It makes it harder to regulate emotions, to focus, to plan long-term. That’s not a lack of resilience… that’s physiology.
You are not “too sensitive.”
You are running on fumes inside a system that was never designed to support you.
Between the Pleaser and the Protector
I’ve noticed a split in myself lately… maybe you’ve felt it too.
One part of me still wants to be liked, to be reasonable, to not make a scene.
The other part has had enough.
Sociologist Dr. Sophie Brock calls this the tension between the “good mother myth” and the rage of reality.
We are taught to please, but motherhood demands we protect. And when those two instincts collide, it’s like living in a constant tug of war between grace and fury.
We end up blaming ourselves for feeling angry. For feeling tired. For feeling anything that isn’t endlessly patient.
But as I remind my clients (and myself) you are not breaking down, you are breaking open.
When the Fight Goes Out of You
When the blankness lifts, I don’t try to bounce back straight away.
I rage. I rant. I cry in the car and send messy voice notes to the friend who gets it. I blast music and scream-sing until my throat hurts. Then, when the noise settles, I go quiet.
That quiet is where healing starts.
Dr. Kristin Neff says that real self-compassion isn’t just soft… it’s fierce. It’s the voice that says, “This isn’t okay, and I matter enough to rest.”
So on the days when I have nothing left, I put my hand on my heart and whisper:
I’m doing the best I can.
I’m allowed to stop fighting for a while.
I’m allowed to grieve that I have to fight at all.
Sometimes that looks like lying under a blanket.
Sometimes it’s walking by the river with my son.
Sometimes it’s crying in the shower while the world carries on.
Whatever it is… I let it be enough.
You Don’t Have to Earn Rest
Therapist Lisa Dion says, “Regulation is contagious.” When we learn to soothe ourselves, we teach our children that calm is safe, not earned.
I don’t want my children to think you only get to rest when you’re empty. I want them to see that softness isn’t failure. That rest isn’t a reward… it’s a right.
So I remind myself:
✨ I am still a good mother, even when I can’t fix it.
✨ I’m allowed to step back from systems that won’t listen.
✨ I am still his anchor, even when I feel adrift.
As Dr. Mona Delahooke says: “You know your child best. Trust that.”
Even when I forget everything else… I trust that.
The Quiet Power of Letting Go
The fight will always come back.
But in between, there is power in the pause.
Power in resting.
Power in breaking open.
Power in remembering that love can exist right beside exhaustion.
If you’re in the thick of it right now - if the emails, the meetings, the expectations have stripped you bare - please hear me:
You are not failing because you’re tired.
You are tired because you’ve been carrying more than any one person should.
You deserve rest.
You deserve support.
You deserve to be heard.
Let the fight go… just for a while.
Let yourself come first.
Reflection
Where in your body do you feel the signs of “fight fatigue”?
What helps your nervous system feel safe again?
Who in your life lets you be unfiltered… without fixing you?
What would it look like to rest before you reach breaking point?
Listen to the full episode:
Next step
If this story resonates, you might find my free guide The First 30 Days especially grounding — a gentle companion for those early weeks after diagnosis. Download it here →
