ADHD and neurodiversity Archives

Mar 16

Supporting your child’s mental health

By Iain Boyle ADHD and neurodiversity, Education, Mental health, Relationships, special educational needs, Wellbeing

by Emily Snape
author and mother

Supporting a child’s mental health rarely looks the way we expect it to. There isn’t a clear plan and progress is rarely straightforward. What works at one stage can stop working at another and what helps one child may not help the next. Over time, I’ve learned that supporting mental health is less about having the right answers and more about paying attention, staying connected and learning what your own child needs.

My middle son has ADHD, and our experience has included meltdowns, anxiety, school avoidance, high-energy moods and behaviours that can be difficult to manage. There have been moments when I’ve worried about what these struggles might mean long-term, and times when I’ve felt like I’m getting so much wrong.

One thing that has become very clear is that the relationship between me and my child must come first. Before consequences, before explanations, before trying to move things along. When a child is overwhelmed, what can help most is knowing that the adult in front of them is steady and on their side. That doesn’t mean removing boundaries or avoiding difficult conversations – it means prioritising connection, particularly when things are not going well.

Learning to notice the detail
With time, I’ve become better at noticing the detail behind behaviour. What looks like defiance or refusal is often anxiety, exhaustion or something that has built up quietly. Asking myself what might be driving a reaction, rather than focusing on stopping it, has helped me respond more calmly.

I’ve also learned that timing matters. My children rarely talk when emotions are running high. Some of the most useful conversations have happened in the car, or at bedtime, when the day has slowed down. Those moments can’t be forced, but they can be made possible.

Connection before direction
When emotions are high, instructions tend to land badly. I’ve learned that it usually works better to slow things down first, to sit nearby, acknowledge how difficult something feels, and wait. Once a child feels understood, they are far more able to reflect and take things on board.

Revisiting situations afterwards has also been important. I don’t always respond as well as I’d like in the moment. Going back to talk things through, and apologising, when necessary, has helped maintain trust and repair the relationship.

Remembering that feelings change
One thing I remind myself of regularly is that feelings are temporary. This has helped me keep perspective when my child is distressed, even if I’m feeling anxious myself.

When my eldest son, who is 16 and in the middle of his GCSEs, came back from the hairdresser last week, he was completely distraught. He announced he wouldn’t be leaving the house until it had all grown back. At the time, it genuinely felt like a crisis. I went straight into problem-solving mode, trying to reason with him that it was ‘just hair’, while panicking about school, exams and what Monday morning was going to look like. It took a few careful steps to get him back into school, but once he realised it wasn’t the catastrophe he’d imagined, he was able to move on. A week later, and he’s totally moved on – though at the time, it felt anything but small.

Of course, that isn’t always the case. Anxiety can be persistent, and school avoidance has been an ongoing challenge for us. It’s draining, and there are no quick solutions. But even here, I’ve learned that progress is rarely linear, and that patience and understanding tend to achieve more than pressure.

Opening conversations about ADHD
I wrote my books, My Amazing ADHD Brain and My Amazing Autistic Brain to help open conversations, both for children and for the adults around them. They are intended as a way for children to understand how their brains work, and to see themselves in a balanced and positive light. For many families, books can offer a starting point for conversations.

I’m still learning, and there are still difficult days. But I know now that supporting a child’s mental health isn’t about fixing everything or getting it right all the time. It’s about being consistent, paying attention and always staying by their side.

Emily Snape is a children’s author and illustrator living in London. Her work has appeared online, on television, in shops and even on buses! She has three cheeky children, Leo, Fin and Flo who keep her on her toes. www.emilysnape.co.uk Emily’s newest book ‘My Amazing Autistic Brain’ is published by Summersdale, £6.99

Jul 01

Love0

They’re not broken – it’s their superpower potential

By Iain Boyle ADHD and neurodiversity, Education, fun for children, Mental health, special educational needs

by Jack Francis
The Skate Club

How passion helps neurodiverse children discover their ‘superpowers’

A few months ago, I stood in front of 200 primary school children, sharing stories from my life – skateboarding down hills with Christmas trees strapped to my board, struggling to keep up at university and writing a book I never thought I’d be able to write. As I spoke, a boy turned to his mate and whispered, “I’ve got ADHD and dyslexia – like him.” That moment stuck with me. That small moment of recognition, pride even, is why I’ve been doing these assemblies.

I was diagnosed with dyslexia at university, and ADHD much more recently, as an adult running a skate school. Growing up, these weren’t framed as ‘superpowers’. At best, they were obstacles. At worst, signs of somehow falling short. I’d often been called bright, but that made it harder – like I had all the pieces, just not the ability to put them together.

It’s only in recent years that I’ve come to see how much of what I’m good at – from teaching, to coaching, to running a business – is tied to the way my brain works. My hyperfocus, creativity, energy and problem-solving skills aren’t things I’ve achieved despite my neurodiversity. They are my neurodiversity. And I’m not alone.

The power of passion
In every school I visit, there are children sitting quietly with heads full of big ideas, or legs bouncing under the table. Some have diagnoses, many don’t. They might struggle with reading, listening, or managing frustration – but the potential in those children is massive. What they need isn’t ‘fixing’. What they need is space to explore something they care about, something that lets them feel good at being themselves. For me, that thing was skateboarding.

Skateboarding gave me freedom. It wasn’t about winning or being picked for a team. It was about solving tiny physical puzzles – how to move, how to balance and how to land a trick. It was social but low-pressure. I could focus completely on what I was doing, fail over and over again and still feel proud of the progress. Looking back, skateboarding was the first place I truly felt capable.

Today, as a skate coach, I see the same thing in other children – especially those who are neurodiverse. Children who are anxious or fidgety, or who’ve been told they “Just need to focus,” often find a rhythm through skating. I’ve watched children go from nervously standing on a board to rolling down ramps on their own, grinning from ear to ear. Some of them go home and do their reading for the first time in weeks. It’s not about the trick – it’s about the shift in how they see themselves.

Reframing ‘difficulty’
One of the challenges for neurodiverse children today is that their journey often begins with being told what they can’t do. A diagnosis, helpful as it is, can also carry an unspoken message: you’re going to struggle. And yes, there may be challenges. But there are also advantages – and children deserve to hear that side too.

Dyslexic thinkers often have strong visual and spatial awareness, creative imagination and big-picture thinking. Those with ADHD may have intense focus (on the right task), incredible energy and rapid-fire ideas. Autistic children often bring attention to detail, emotional honesty and deep interests. But these traits only shine when we let children follow what they love.

That’s the heart of it: when a child finds their passion – whether it’s skateboarding, coding, storytelling or animals – it becomes a doorway into confidence. Passion gives purpose to their focus, structure to their energy and joy to their learning. And when a child starts seeing themselves as someone who can, not just someone who struggles, everything changes.

The adult’s role
As parents, educators, and carers, our role isn’t to tell children who they are – it’s to notice when they light up, and to help them follow that thread. Sometimes that means letting them try unusual things. Sometimes it means not pushing them to do what everyone else is doing. And sometimes it just means listening when they talk about something they care about.

Skateboarding might not be your child’s thing – and that’s fine. But something is. There’s something out there that lets them feel free, focused and fully themselves. Our job is to help them find it. Not to demand they perform, but to offer them the kind of support that says, “You’re not broken – you’re just different and that’s a strength.”

I still get overwhelmed. I still struggle with admin. I still forget things. But I’ve also built a skate school, written a book and coached hundreds of young people. And I’ve done that not in spite of my neurodiversity, but because of it.

So when your child gets obsessed with something, try not to brush off. Watch closely. That might just be the spark that helps them discover their superpower.

Jack Francis is the founder of The Skate Club and author of “How to Train Your Skateboard”, a beginner’s guide to skateboarding.
www.theskateclub.com