Burned Out & Rebuilding as a Neurodivergent Women

The Breaking Point: When I Knew I Couldn’t Go Back

Once I decided to leave my nursing career, it felt like a logical move—but I had no idea how deeply it would change me.

I had been working in a large hospital system where I started as a nursing educator—my dream role. I’ve always loved mentoring, guiding, and educating others, and with a Doctor of Nursing Practice (DNP), I was positioned for leadership. But once I stepped into a clinical leadership role, I was met with micromanagement, dysfunction, and a complete lack of autonomy.

At the same time, my eldest child—who is neurodivergent—was struggling in school. He wasn’t being supported academically or emotionally. As a mother, I was heartbroken.

As a professional, I was torn. I had income and security, but I couldn’t ignore the cost of familial and emotional breakdown anymore. Eventually, I had to choose:

Stay in a system that was harming my family and my health—or walk away. Spoiler: I walked.

The SAHM Chapter I Romanticized—and the Truth That Followed

I thought becoming a stay-at-home mom (SAHM) would bring healing, peace, and more connection (and hopefully loads more fun). I thought I’d be more present, more fulfilled, more in control.

But about 10 months in, I found myself sitting on our patio, exhausted, disconnected, and painfully aware:

“I don’t think I’ve been fully honest—with myself or my husband—about what I really wanted or what I thought this would actually be like.”

• I craved structure for my neurodivergent child—and for myself.
• I craved a rhythm that included both play and intentional learning.
• I craved freedom—but I was drowning in fatigue, indecision, and guilt (lots and lots of guilt). As a neurodivergent woman, the contradiction cut deep:

I crave routine—and yet I rebel against it (yet another trait of being a neurodivergent woman). The constant demand for flexibility, stimulation, and parenting presence started to fry my nervous system all over again.

Burnout Beneath the Burnout

This wasn’t just exhaustion. This was nervous system collapse.

My nervous system had been screaming for years. I had been masking, over-functioning, people-pleasing, martyring, absorbing the energy of every room.

Over time, everything collapsed:

• My relationship with my husband (now actively repairing/rebuilding)
• My relationship with my father (which ended in no contact)
• My spiritual tools and sense of direction
• My professional identity
• My sense of worth, purpose, and confidence

What I went through was an ego death—a total breakdown of the life I had built and the self I thought I had to be.

Rebuilding—One Breath, One Belief at a Time

Eventually, I reached for help:

• Therapy.
• Wellbutrin (my antidepressant).
• Honest conversations with people who held space.
• I returned to the teachings of Abraham Hicks.
• I began listening to my nervous system. Trusting my intuition again.
• And I started to write.

Blogging became the space where I remembered who I was—and began reimagining what was possible.

That season taught me the power of slowing down, reflecting, and putting my thoughts on paper — a practice that became the foundation for the guided journals I later created to help others move through burnout, life transitions, and self-discovery.

In fact, this exact journey and rebuilding process inspired me to create The Unmasked Journal Guide — a 15-page guided self-reflection journal with 26 powerful writing prompts, mindfulness exercises, and grounding practices to help you navigate burnout, reconnect with yourself, and start again with clarity.

I also created The Ashes Journal — a writing companion for those moments of deep transition, when you’re processing change, grief, or identity shifts and need a safe space to release your thoughts. Both journals are designed to help you slow down, tune into your inner voice, and begin rebuilding — one page at a time.

What I Carried With Me: The Transferable Skills of a Burned-Out, Neurodivergent, Cycle-Breaking Woman

I may have left a broken system behind—but I didn’t leave behind my strengths.

I carried with me:

• Deep intuition and emotional insight
• Tech-savviness and creative adaptability
• Systems thinking and empathy-driven leadership
• An educator’s heart and a mother’s resilience
• My unique way of designing routines and tools that work for real neurodivergent families
• My love for AI, automation, and soul-aligned workflows

These aren’t scraps—they’re transferable skills that fuel my journey as a neurodivergent entrepreneur and content creator.

What This Blog Is (And Isn’t)

This blog is not:

• Polished perfection
• Performative wellness
• A Pinterest-perfect parenting playbook

This blog is:

• A living, breathing journal of expansion
• A resource for burned-out moms, black sheep daughters, cycle breakers, and ND women trying to live a life that actually works
• A home for systems, tools, stories, reflection, and healing in real time

A Gentle Invitation

If you’re here, you belong.

If something resonates—explore it.
There’s no pressure. No performance. No polished pitch. Just a space to rest, remember, and rebuild. A companion to your own expansion.

This is the first in a series about burnout, motherhood, and identity collapse. Stay tuned for future posts on navigating healing and rebuilding from the inside out.

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