Surviving Doesn't Mean You're Doing It Wrong

A real conversation about autism, exhaustion, faith, and the God who carries us.

I’m not even sure where to begin, because when there’s no downtime, even thinking clearly feels like a luxury. It’s hard to show up consistently patient when your life doesn’t have pockets of rest built into it. I’ll be real honest — I rarely get a break.

And this isn’t a pity post. It’s just truth.

Most of the “breaks” I get are when I’m working. At my full-time job, I have some peace. When I’m shooting a wedding, it feels like breathing room. Those moments are lighter than the constant unpredictability of autism and how it can shift the entire atmosphere in a split second.

There are days when my brain feels fried, like I can’t remember anything at all. I’ve been told that’s a physical response to chronic stress. Maybe that’s true. Maybe I pour so much of myself into my son and into managing the moment-by-moment needs that I don’t even realize how much of myself I’ve neglected along the way.

People love to say, “You can’t pour from an empty cup,” or, “You need self-care.” And while those phrases sound good, they don’t always fit the world of intense-needs autism. Let me be honest: in the world of autism — the kind of autism that breaks things, climbs things, elopes, melts down without warning — “self-care” can feel like an entitlement fantasy. Not because money or rest aren’t important, but because most parents in this space spend nearly every resource on therapies, treatments, supplements, and survival.

And even if money existed for self-care, who’s babysitting?

Who’s trained?

Who’s trustworthy?

I'm grateful I finally have a babysitter trained, trustworthy, and pretty available to me! But I know this isn't the reality for most autism parents.

My husband travels often, so the only time for anything resembling downtime is after my son goes to bed. And by then, tasks pile up — food prep, cleaning, dishes, laundry, planning the next day.

Most nights, the laundry stays undone. The dishes stay in the sink. Because your body gives out before your to-do list does.

I’m sharing all of this so someone out there stops feeling guilty. So someone understands:

If you don’t have time or money for “self-care,” you’re not doing it wrong. You’re surviving.

And survival isn’t failure — not in Scripture, not in life, and not in special-needs parenting.

In Christian circles, people sometimes make “surviving” sound like a lack of faith. We’re told we’re supposed to thrive because we’re kingdom citizens. But the Bible is full of people who were solidly within God’s will and still struggled for long, exhausting seasons.

Joseph was in the center of God’s will in the pit.

In slavery.

In prison.

God was with him, but the pit was not cozy.

God was with him, but slavery did not affirm his identity.

God was with him, but prison still wore him down.

Being exactly where God wants you does not mean you’re shielded from hardship.

How I Do This: With God, and Only With God

I genuinely do not understand how anyone does special-needs parenting without God. There is simply no way I could do this day after day in my own strength. It's hard — brutally hard — and I know this isn’t only a special-needs parenting thing. It’s a human struggle. A Christian struggle. A real-life emotional tug-of-war.

The enemy loves to condemn us in moments of weakness.

We get angry.

We lose our temper.

We break down.

We say things we regret — or things we don’t regret, but say them to people who hold them against us.

But, God can handle that.

God can handle us.

One of the enemy’s favorite lies is that our emotional reactions disqualify us from being “real” Christians. But the walk with Jesus is one of refinement — stripping away layers of things we’ve carried since childhood, trauma, and even generational patterns.

How can someone lose their temper one minute and post a Bible verse the next?

Because transformation doesn’t erase humanity.

Because we’re growing.

Because we’re being refined.

And because none of that makes us fake.

You can be in process and still be deeply loved.

The Emotional Whiplash of Survival Mode

When life is heavy, it’s easy to come out of character. It’s easy to forget who you want to be at your core. But then, in the rare moments of relief, you find yourself returning to grace, softness, and clarity.

I think a lot of people feel this. It’s what’s on my heart today.

I need Jesus every second of every day — in the good, in the bad, in the trust, in the trial, in the storm, in the valley, and on the mountain.

I cannot do this without Him.

Every whispered prayer…

Every moment of surrender…

Every time I reel myself back because I know I’m exhausted…

It’s me feeling like Elijah — needing nothing more than a nap and a snack.

If any of this resonates with your heart, I don’t have a neat lesson or tidy application. I don’t even know the lesson God is teaching me right now.

But I do know this:

Keep seeking Jesus.

Know that surviving isn’t sin.

Know that your questions don’t scare God.

And one day, every tear will be wiped away.

God can handle your emotions.

God can handle your weakness.

God can handle your questions.

And God is with you — even in your pit, even in your exhaustion, even when all you can do is survive.