What medicine never taught me about parenting a child with ADHD
Once again, I found myself balled up on the kitchen floor, head between my knees, sobbing. My shoulders shook, and my chest heaved as I gasped for air, but air wouldn’t be enough. What I was truly gasping for was hope, something that had eluded me during this perpetually challenging season of my “neurodivergent” parenting career.
I’m not sure what made that moment any different from the countless dysregulated nights that …
