Helping My Kids Grieve When My Own Heart Is Breaking.
Parenting is already a lot. Parenting teenagers while perimenopausal, in a neurodivergent family, after the death of someone you all love?
10 out of 10 do not recommend doing all of that at once.
And yet here we are.
Big feelings in a neurodivergent family
In our house, feelings are not small. We feel things with our whole bodies. We’ve had a few neurodivergent diagnosis in recent years, something I wrote about in my 2024 reflections. It has reshaped how we understand and support each other. https://nestcounselling.com.au/better-late-than-never-my-2024-reflections/
It means:
• transitions can feel massive, not minor
• loud classrooms after a big emotional event can be too much
• friendship drama is unmanageable
• executive function is a bit like an unreliable Wi-Fi connection
Add in my own perimenopausal nervous system, already riding as described in my menopause blog, crying because someone left the milk out, and you have a house where everyone’s emotional volume is turned up. (https://nestcounselling.com.au/when-perimenopause-enters-the-chat-what-it-means-for-your-relationship/)
Then grief walked in.
And not “grief in theory”, but grief in real time. My kids were there when their Grandpa died through voluntary assisted dying. They saw the preparation. They heard the conversations. They held his hand. They watched him go. It was honest and raw and loving. And at times, absolutely overwhelming.
Choosing the confronting thing.
We had the option to keep them away. To say “this is too much” and let them say goodbye earlier, somewhere less clinical. But when we asked, they said they wanted to be there. To be part of the truth of his death. To stand with him the way he had stood with them.
So we prepared them.
We explained the process in age-appropriate, real words. We reassured them that they could step out at any time. We made space for “I’m sure” and “I’m not sure” and everything in between. And then we did the hard thing together.
In the weeks since, the impact has shown up in different ways:
• tiredness
• school refusal urges
• moments of “I just can’t” about assignments
• sudden tears
• total emotional shutdowns
• and then, just as quickly, laughter and silly videos and moments of joy
If you’ve ever worried that your child is “fine” one minute and “falling apart” the next, that might actually be their grief doing its job. Kids and teens often move in and out of grief in bursts. https://www.grief.org.au/
School, friendship fights and grief brain
Here’s the part that doesn’t get talked about enough. Life does not pause because your child is grieving. School still send emails. Assignments still have due dates. Friendships still explode. Exams still happen.
So we’re holding this tender, massive thing, and at the same time:
• replying to school about attendance
• encouraging them to shower
• negotiating gaming time
• fielding updates about friendship dramas
Sometimes I look at them and think:
“You are grieving someone you watched die; your brain is still growing, you’re trying to work out who you are in the world, and we’re also asking you to write an essay on persuasive techniques. No wonder you’re done.”
Grief shows up in concentration, motivation, emotion and behaviour. For teens, it can look like anger, numbness, irritability, school refusal or just exhaustion. (https://parents.au.reachout.com/)
It doesn’t always look like someone sitting quietly and crying in a tasteful movie montage.
When do you push, and when do you soften?
This is the tightrope I find myself on daily. On one side, structure and gentle expectations can be regulating. On the other, pushing too hard can feel like you’re dragging a hurting kid through wet cement.
Here’s what I’m trying (imperfectly, daily):
Name the thing out loud
Instead of “Why aren’t you doing your work?”, I try: “I’m wondering if school work feels impossible today because your grief feels really heavy.” Naming it doesn’t fix it. But it tells them I see more than their behaviour.
Offer choices, not orders
“Do you think you can manage one period then come home, or is today a stay-home and-rest day?” Choices can give a sense of agency when everything else feels out of control.
Use tiny steps
Instead of “You need to catch up on everything,” we break it down: “Email one teacher.” “Do ten minutes of the assignment.” “Pack your bag for tomorrow and that’s enough for today.”
Let some balls drop
Sometimes the most compassionate thing we can do is decide what doesn’t matter right now. That might be perfect attendance. Or perfectly nutritious dinners. Or replying to every email in under 24 hours. Our job is not to shield them from every consequence. But it is to protect their nervous systems from being overloaded when they’re already at full capacity.
Perimenopause, grief and parenting on hard mode
I’d love to say I am a calm, endlessly regulated grief-whisperer of a mum. I am not. Some days I am patient and wise and say the exact right validating thing. Some days I am hot, sweaty, overstimulated, forgetting my words and crying because someone has used my good pen.
Perimenopause has added a whole extra layer to my emotional world. It has changed my energy, my mood and my tolerance for noise. https://nestcounselling.com.au/when-perimenopause-enters-the-chat-what-it-means-for-your-relationship/
There are days when all three of us are having Big Feelings at the same time and my brain is just quietly humming “nope” in the background.
I’m sharing that because if you’re parenting while peri, or carrying your own mental health challenges, and you feel like you’re constantly not doing enough, you are not alone.
You are not failing because you find this hard. You find this hard because it is hard.
What seems to help (for us, so far)
Every family is different, but these are things that seem to support us right now:
• Talking about him
Not just about the day he died, but the funny stories, the annoying habits, the things he taught us.
• Being honest about my own grief
Saying, “I’m really sad today and I’m trying my best” instead of pretending I’m fine.
• Letting them set the pace
Some days they want to talk about it. Some days they really don’t. Both are okay. https://parents.au.reachout.com
• Keeping some routines
The same sports matches, the same playlists or podcasts, the same bedtime show. Routines give a sense of safety when the big things have shifted. (Emerging Minds)
• Getting outside help when needed
Teachers, school counsellors, GPs and therapists can be allies. Our children’s have been amazing. We don’t have to carry the whole thing ourselves.
You’re allowed to be the grieving parent who doesn’t have it all together
If you’re reading this as a parent, caregiver or big person in a kid’s life who is grieving too, please hear this:
You are allowed to:
• mess it up and come back with a repair
• cry in front of them sometimes
• ask for help
• say “I don’t know, but I’m here with you in it”
You don’t need to be a perfect model of regulated grief to support your child. You just need to be real, willing to listen and willing to keep loving them, even when their grief shows up in ways that look prickly or unmotivated or “difficult”.
If you need support
For extra support around kids and teens and grief, you might find these helpful:
• ReachOut Parents: Supporting your teen through grief and loss – practical ideas for creating safety and letting them lead. (https://parents.au.reachout.com/)
• Grief Australia & The National Centre for Childhood Grief – resources and services for kids and the adults who love them. (grief.org.au)
At Nest, I work with parents and couples who are holding their own grief while trying to support their kids’ big feelings too. If you’re wondering how to carry all of this without losing yourself or your relationship in the process, therapy can be a place to gently put some of it down.
You are welcomed and supported here.
