Touched Out, Overstimulated, Snapping: The Neurodivergent Mum Reality
- Jan 14
- 10 min read
I was sitting on the lounge after a long day with the kids — that post-bedtime zone-out where you’re not even relaxing, you’re just… disassociating. Overstimulated. Touched out. Emotionally cooked. The kind of tired where your thoughts keep buffering like a slow internet connection that never quite loads.
So, there I was, brain fried, sunken into my lounge and doom-scrolling socials when an interview with Mel Robbins came up on my feed. In the clip, Mel was talking about her own diagnosis, and how ADHD in women presents differently…Internal.
Daydreaming. Disorganisation. Anxiety. Self-criticism. Not the stereotype we all grew up with of the loud, hyperactive little boy who can’t sit still.
My first thought was: Holy shit… this was me in primary school.
I have never saved a video so fast. And then…I rabbit-holed. Because when something finally explains your whole life, you don’t go “interesting” and keep scrolling. You go digging like it’s a cold case.
I’ve since coined a phrase: 'You are what you click'. Because once you click on something that hits a nerve, suddenly your feed is full of experts describing your brain like they’ve had a camera in your house for 36 years.
And that’s when it hit me: maybe I wasn’t broken.
Maybe I wasn’t lazy. Maybe I wasn’t “too sensitive”. Maybe I wasn’t “smart but doesn’t apply herself” because I didn’t care.
Maybe my brain just worked differently — and nobody around me knew what they were looking at. Including me.
The quick childhood flashback (because it matters)
As a kid, I felt like I didn’t fit.
I wasn’t popular. I was teased. I had one friendship that felt conditional, and a lot of the time I wandered around school or sat alone because… what else do you do when you don’t know where you belong?
I learned to mask early — to mirror people, copy behaviour, become whoever I needed to be to survive socially. And my school reports basically had one copy-paste line: Smart, but lacks application.
I loved familiarity (Disney, Harry Potter on repeat) because predictability felt safe. I had sensory things too — clothes that made me feel trapped, noise that made my skin crawl, routines and “spots” that I didn’t realise were needs.
At the time, I didn’t have language for any of it. I just thought… I am sure of what I like and what I don’t like.
And then I became a mum, and the “coping buffer” I didn’t even realise I’d built… disappeared.
Motherhood didn’t create Neurodivergence — it just turned the volume up
Before kids, I could recover. I could reset. I could control my environment (a bit). I could do things in my own order, at my own pace.
Motherhood is beautiful… and also loud, sticky, relentless, unpredictable, and physically demanding in ways nobody can explain until you’re in it.
For me, the biggest triggers are clear now:
1) Noise (the fastest route to rage)
Noise is massive for me.
When the kids crank their decibels up during play, or one tantrum drags on longer than a few minutes, I can literally feel myself getting angrier — not because I’m a monster, but because my brain processes sound like an emergency.
And the worst part? If I manage to calm it down and it starts again… LOOK OUT. Because my nervous system isn’t resetting between rounds. It’s stacking.
2) Mess (when my 'low-stim' home becomes a visual attack)
Turns out my beige, minimalistic home isn’t just an aesthetic. My space also serves a purpose – calming my mind and nervous system (a fact that I was unaware until I rabbit holed). I have curated certain textures and colours that together, create a low-stimulant environment: plain walls, neutral tones, minimal fuss. It feels safe and calm.
But the playroom? That’s overstimulation central. Colour everywhere. Toys everywhere. And the way my kids play can look like: toy out → toy out → toy out → toy out → pile grows → they can’t play anymore → it spills into the hallway and lounge…
…and that’s when my brain flips from “annoyed” to “I’m going to lose my mind”.
Because visual clutter isn’t “just messy” — it’s like 100 unfinished tasks yelling at me all day.
3) Touch (I love them, and I am touched OUT)
My kids are always on top of me.
Massimo loves cuddles. Leonardo lives for rough play. And then there’s the constant care: picking up, wiping, nappies, teeth, dressing, comforting after tears, managing the brother injuries that happen two minutes after I said “please be gentle”.
By the end of the day, I don’t want a bar of anyone — Ilija included. The dog included. The air included.
Because it’s not just touch. It’s constant access to my body. Constant demand. Constant closeness.
4) Interruptions (my brain’s worst enemy)
Interruptions derail me.
I need routine — not because I’m uptight, but because I’m carrying a million hats at once: kids (none of whom are in any kind of day care or full time school - yet), marriage, home admin, social calendar, my role in our (mine and Ilija’s) real estate marketing business, Mama Interrupted (my outlet), and apparently also chef/doctor/cleaner.
So when I’m in flow (writing, working, cooking, cleaning) and I keep getting interrupted, my brain doesn’t neatly return to the task.
It resets. Every time.
And that’s when the internal noise starts climbing.
The Coke bottle theory (aka: what hitting my limit actually looks like)
To be clear... I don’t “randomly lose it”. I build.
Noise builds. Mess builds. Touch builds. Interruptions build. And my nervous system stacks it all until one extra thing happens and… boom.
I call it the shaken Coke bottle.
If I don’t release the gas slowly throughout the day, it explodes.
Also, I want to be really clear here: this isn’t an “every day” thing. My kids are generally well behaved and I’m mostly regulated. But once maybe every couple of weeks, if the triggers stack without a circuit breaker? I can snap. And after I snap, I shut down and need space to come back to myself.
So how do i catch it before it explodes? The first sign isn’t yelling. It’s internal yelling.
The noise in my head gets louder. My body tightens. My jaw clenches. Little things I’d usually overlook start to annoy me. I get derailed more easily and my frustration builds faster.
Afternoons before dinner can be the danger zone… but honestly, if I’m constantly being derailed while I’m “on a roll”, it can happen any time.
So now I try to catch it earlier. Not at explosion point… at jaw-clench point.
Everyday systems that actually work with my brain
1) The “step outside” circuit breaker
When I feel the build starting, my best strategy is simple:
I step outside.
I set the kids up with an activity, grab my coffee or water bottle, and sit at the outside table with the door closed behind me. The sound drops instantly and it’s like my nervous system gets one quiet breath.
It’s not a “break”. It’s a pressure valve.
2) Familiar sound = safe nervous system
I have music constantly playing in the house — not random playlists. Repetition.
Sound Bath, LoFi, Chill House and RÜFÜS DU SOL (my absolute fave) on repeat.
Familiarity makes my environment feel safe. It fills silence without adding more mental clutter. It’s like background regulation.
When kid-noise starts climbing, I try “quiet as a mouse” (mouse whispers, practice voices). If that fails, I remove myself from the stimulation for five minutes.
No guilt. Survival tactics.
3) The “dog reset” (aka: my comfort)
Sometimes I regulate best through safe touch — not more kid-touch.
So yes, sometimes I cuddle the dog. He’s fluffy and grounding and honestly like cuddling a teddy bear (cuddling a dog as an adult, totally fine – a teddy, not so much). Same concept: calming sensory input that tells my body it’s safe.
4) The 'Ta-Da' list
When I’m overwhelmed, a To-Do list keeps me on track.
At the start of the week ill do a quick 'whip around': a speedy room-to-room visual scan of what needs to be done (added messily to a bit of paper). I then open my calendar and add to my paper the week's activities as well as any additional tasks that might go with those events (because you can't rock up to a birthday party without a gift, and somewhere in the week you need to find the time to buy the gift and wrap it in preparation). I then finalise my list and highlight any priority items and start ticking them off – ✨Ta-Da! ✨ – This gives me visual proof I’m not failing or doing 'nothing'.
5) The “quick win” method (dopamine + control)
When overwhelm hits, I scan for the easiest task and do it immediately. Not because it’s the most important thing — but because it gives my brain a win.
One quick win can shift me from “I can’t cope” to “okay, I’m back.” It reorients my brain and gives me traction again.
6) The afternoon save (because 4–6pm is a trap)
Afternoons before dinner are prime stacking time: hungry kids, tired bodies, rising volume.
So I plan for it like it’s a weather event.
My go-to options:
veggie plate + dip (prevents the hungry rampage, especially for Massimo who is apparently always starving – even though hand on heart he eats more than I do).
calm tech time like the Yoto (books being read + hard copies to follow along with = calm, contained stimulation). This is seriously the best toy/gadget EVER! Tonies are much the same too!
energy release on purpose (dance party in the lounge, or scooters up and down our long hallway) — they burn energy and then usually settle
7) Playroom rules (because mess isn’t just mess — it’s mental load)
I actually do toy rotation: theme tubs, locked cupboards, rotated every second/third week. The kids love it because it feels brand new.
Where it still gets me is when play spills into the hallway/living areas… and when the big items get dismantled (hi couch cubby), because that’s when steam starts coming out of my ears.
If I could wave a wand, the rules would be:
Playroom stays in the playroom
Play happens in the playroom (no wrestling on the nice couch and attacking the cushions)
One toy basket out at a time
But no such magic wand exists, so toy rotation and a locked cupboard it is.
8) Touch boundaries (without the mum guilt spiral)
I love cuddles when I’m calm. I love rolling around with them on the floor when it’s mutual and joyful.
But when I’m working/cleaning/cooking and someone is pulling my arm? No.
When I’m concentrating and someone climbs on me? No.
When play turns rough and knees start landing on my body? Absolutely not.
I’m big on personal space — and when it feels violated, I’m done. So I’m practising boundaries that are kind but firm, because I can’t be a calm mum if my body feels constantly “on loan”.
9) Scripts on rotation (because my brain can’t invent calm sentences mid-chaos)
When I’m overloaded, I don’t improvise. I script.
“Mama is going to set you up with an activity and then I’m going to have calm time outside for a few minutes. If you need me, I’ll be right outside.”
“Mama needs to calm her body. I’m going to sit down and do some triangle breathing and then I’ll come back in and we can do x/y/z.”
“Mama needs space to quiet her brain. I’m setting a timer — let’s see how many toys you can pack away before it goes off. I’ll be back in when it’s done to help with the rest.”
Scripts help because they:
name what’s happening
offer a clear plan
reassure the kids
reduce negotiation
I also believe repeating these scripts to my boys has helped them towards the goal of 'self regulation' - Leonardo repeted a line yesterday to his brother, "Massimo, I just need space right now to calm my body" - I was floored. But at the same time, the pride and joy i felt in that moment knowing he could voice his feelings was just *Chef's Kiss!
10) The interruption boundary (aka: no more “sometime this afternoon” limbo)
The worst interruptions aren’t even the visit — it’s the vagueness.
So I don’t agree to vague.
“We’re free now, if you want to pop by.”
“Can you give me a time?”
“We’re doing a few things ourselves today — can we do [specific time] / tomorrow / another day?”
“Mondays are our business day. How about [specific time]?”
Boundaries don’t have to be aggressive to work. They just have to be clear.
11) Re-entry after interruptions (leave it open)
When I get interrupted mid-task, the hardest part isn’t stopping — it’s restarting. So I don’t close everything down “properly”. I leave it open.
I don’t minimise tabs or shut the doc. I let the screen settle and saver come on, and when I come back, I just… read what’s there.
I don’t pack it all up. I leave what I can out and when I come back, I simply… look at what’s there and piece it back to a starting point. Yes. Sometimes having stuff left out isn’t ideal, but if it’s out of sight it’s out of mind and then it sits until I remember one random day.
So, this is my re-entry ramp. It gets my brain back into motion without extra steps. And I finally finish projects off.
What I’m learning (and what I want you to know too)
I’m currently undiagnosed, however I am working toward diagnosis.
And in the meantime, I’m treating my life like a supportive experiment — not “how do I become a neurotypical supermum?”, but:
How do I build a life that works with my neurodivergent mum brain?
If you’re reading this and you’re in the “Ah-ha” stage — the stage where your whole childhood suddenly makes sense and motherhood feels like it exposed everything — I need you to hear this:
You’re not lazy.
You’re not dramatic.
You’re not failing at motherhood.
You’re likely overstimulated, over-touched, over-demanded, and trying to run a life that was never designed for the way your brain processes the world.
You don’t need to try harder.
You need supports, systems, and permission to regulate.
What to do next (coming from a gentle space)
Start noticing your early warning signs (jaw clench, internal yelling, tight chest) — catching it earlier changes everything.
Build a reset menu (outside, shower, walk, dog cuddle, breathing, one-song reset) so your phone isn’t your only tool.
Use scripts so you don’t have to invent calm words mid-chaos.
Protect your day from “waiting mode” by asking for times, not vague plans.
If diagnosis is on your mind, start a note in your phone: childhood traits + motherhood triggers + what helps. That’s not “making it up”. That’s data.
And most importantly: you’re allowed to start helping yourself now — even before a label arrives.
Because being seen isn’t just comforting - It's the start of building a life that finally fits.
💙💚
Mama Interrupted.
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