Holding Space for Our Kids When the World Feels Uncertain

It's been a heavy week here in Minnesota. I know many of you are feeling it too - that weight in your chest when you turn on the news, the knot in your stomach when you think about what comes next, the exhaustion of trying to hold it together for your kids while you're barely holding it together yourself.

And if you're parenting a neurodiverse child? That weight feels even heavier.

Our kids pick up on everything. They feel our tension in the way we hold our bodies. They hear the worry in our voices even when we try to hide it. They notice when routines shift, when adults whisper in serious tones, when the energy in a room changes.

For kids who already struggle with anxiety, sensory overload, or processing change - this kind of widespread uncertainty isn't just uncomfortable. It can be destabilizing.

So how do we show up for them when we're struggling ourselves? How do we create stability when everything feels chaotic?

I don't have all the answers. But I've been thinking about this a lot, and I want to share what's helping me - and what I hope might help you too.

What We Can't Control (And Why That's Okay to Acknowledge)

Here's the truth: there's a lot happening right now that we can't control. We can't control policy decisions. We can't control what's on the news. We can't control how long this uncertainty will last or what the outcomes will be.

And honestly? Our kids benefit when we acknowledge that.

I used to think I had to have all the answers. That admitting uncertainty made me seem weak or unreliable as a parent. But I've learned that our kids don't need us to be invincible. They need us to be honest.

It's okay to say:

"I don't know what's going to happen, but I'm here with you."

"This is hard for me too, and it's okay that it's hard for you."

"There's a lot I can't control, but I can control how I show up for you today."

When we acknowledge the uncertainty instead of pretending it doesn't exist, we validate what our kids are already feeling. We teach them that it's normal to feel worried during uncertain times - and that they don't have to carry those feelings alone.

What We Can Control (And Why It Matters More Than Ever)

While there's so much outside our control, there's also so much within it. And right now, focusing on what we can control isn't just helpful - it's essential.

We can control our response.

This is where our power lives. Not in changing external circumstances, but in choosing how we meet them. Do we respond with panic or with presence? With helplessness or with intentional action? With isolation or with community?

Our kids are watching. And what they need to see right now isn't perfection - it's resilience. They need to see us feeling hard things and choosing to keep showing up anyway.

We can control our routines.

When the outside world feels chaotic, routines become anchors. They're the things our kids can count on when everything else feels uncertain.

This might look like:

• Keeping bedtimes consistent even when you want to stay up doomscrolling

• Maintaining meal routines and family dinner time

• Sticking to therapy appointments, social skills groups, and activities

• Protecting your child's sensory regulation time (swing time, quiet time, outdoor play)

• Continuing your family rituals, no matter how small

These routines aren't just schedules - they're safety. They tell our kids: "Even when things change, this stays the same. You can count on this. You can count on me."

We can control what information comes into our homes.

Our kids don't need to hear every news update. They don't need to be exposed to adult conversations about worst-case scenarios. They don't need to absorb our anxiety while we scroll social media.

This doesn't mean lying or hiding reality - it means being intentional about how and when we share information, and filtering it through an age-appropriate, regulation-focused lens.

Ask yourself:

Does my child need to know this right now?

Will this information help them or harm them?

Am I sharing this to inform them, or am I processing my own anxiety out loud?

You can stay informed AND protect your child's nervous system. Both things can be true.

We can control how we talk about what's happening.

The words we choose matter. Our tone matters. Our body language matters.

Instead of: "Everything is falling apart and I don't know what we're going to do."

Try: "Things feel uncertain right now, and that's uncomfortable. But we're going to take it one day at a time, and we're going to be okay."

Instead of: "I can't believe this is happening. This is a disaster."

Try: "This is challenging, and I have feelings about it too. And I'm choosing to focus on what I can do to help."

Our kids don't need toxic positivity - they need grounded honesty. They need to know that hard things are hard, AND that we have the capacity to navigate them together.

Creating a Tool for Your Family: Social Stories

One of the most powerful tools I've found for helping neurodiverse kids process uncertain times is social stories. If you're not familiar with them, social stories are simple, visual narratives that help kids understand and navigate challenging situations.

I've created a simple, editable social story template that you can customize for your family. 

READ HERE - >>> We Have Rights - Social Story

When You Need to Do More Than Survive

Here's something I've been sitting with: sometimes maintaining a supportive environment isn't enough. Sometimes we need to act.

Your action might look different. Maybe it's:

• Donating to causes you believe in

• Volunteering in your community

• Having hard conversations with people you love

• Writing to representatives

• Showing up at community events

• Creating art, music, or writing that processes your feelings

• Simply being extra present with your kids

There's no right way to respond. But I've learned that for me, action is medicine. It reminds me that I'm not powerless. It models for my kids that when things feel hard, we don't just endure - we engage.

I want to be really clear about something: you don't have to have it all figured out. You don't have to be perfectly calm. You don't have to shield your kids from every hard feeling or scary headline.

You just have to show up. Imperfectly, messily, one day at a time.

And you don't have to do it alone.

This community exists because we understand what it's like to parent kids who experience the world differently. We know what it's like to fight for inclusion, to navigate systems that weren't built for our children, to feel exhausted and overwhelmed and still show up anyway.

We know what it's like to need support. To need community. To need reminders that we're not doing this wrong - we're just doing something really, really hard.

So here's my reminder to you today:

You are not failing because you feel overwhelmed.

You are not failing because you don't have all the answers.

You are not failing because you need help.

You're human.

You're parenting during extraordinarily challenging times. And you're doing better than you think.

What's Next

Amidst all of this uncertainty, there are still beautiful things happening in our community. There's still connection to be found. There's still joy to be celebrated.

Life continues. Community continues. And we continue to show up for each other and our children.

If you need support, reach out. If you have support to offer, share it. And if you're just trying to make it through this week one hour at a time - that's enough. You're enough.

Let's keep showing up. Together.

With love and solidarity,

Anna