Long before the teen years, parents can begin laying groundwork for future independence. Learned helplessness, when people become dependent upon others as a result of being over-helped, is real for people with disabilities. So, when our kids were younger, we focused on preventing this as best we could by inviting them to develop confidence with small things:

• They picked their own clothes.
• They carried in groceries from the car.
• They stacked firewood and shoveled snow (we lived up north).
• They gradually increased participation in laundry, cooking, and pet care.

I learned the importance of being mindful about how I made requests, especially with my child who has PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance) traits. Saying “I notice the trash needs to be taken out” rather than commanding “Take out the trash” made a world of difference in their willingness to participate and the emotional climate in the home.

Above all else—no yelling. I tried to model self-regulation by being the “boss of myself ” as best I could. People with autism and ADHD have both a blessing and a curse of being very perceptive and sensitive to their environments. When I prioritize my own sleep, nutrition, movement, and fun, everything runs more smoothly in our home. This foundation of respect and autonomy in the early years set the stage for navigating the greater independence challenges of adolescence.

As my children entered their teen years, questions about independence became more urgent. While other parents were teaching their kids to drive or watching them take on part-time jobs, I was still helping with basic executive function skills like organizing schoolwork, managing time and pre-adulting.

In some ways, I noticed an inverse experience between my teens and neurotypical teens of my friends. My kids were super honest; they did their chores, their own laundry, and sometimes prepared meals. But they struggled with social opportunities and stretches towards independence. That’s when I realized they were getting stuck.

What I’ve learned is critical: executive functions—skills like planning, organizing, and self-regulation—often develop more slowly in autistic and ADHD brains. Many don’t reach full maturity until the late 20s or early 30s. Executive function is like having a “secretary” in the front of your brain responsible for understanding what’s important, paying attention to the right things, organizing, executing, and controlling impulsive thoughts and actions. 

Understanding this developmental timeline helped me adjust my expectations. Instead of feeling behind, I recognized we were simply on a different path. My son’s high school years were marked by this tension between academic capability and executive function struggles. He could understand complex concepts but might forget to turn in assignments or become overwhelmed by multi-step projects and have off-the-charts anxiety.

Parenting my autistic teens taught me a powerful metaphor that I now share with clients: when you’re driving in fog, turning on your high beams only makes visibility worse. Sometimes, we need to focus just on the next right step while holding our destination in soft focus on the GPS.

With both George and Grace, we established structured weekly meetings where they drive the agenda and goals while I hold the “soft focus” of bigger objectives like college enrollment, driving, and part-time employment. We use a simple “Goal, Plan, Do, Check” format from the book “Solving Executive Function Challenges: Simple Ways to Get Kids with Autism Unstuck & On Target.”

• They set a Goal for the week that we co-create.
• We develop a Plan for how they will accomplish it, anticipating barriers.
• They Do the work independently.
• We Check in during our weekly meetings to review progress.

For George, we took a slower pace and implemented other accommodations. We emphasized that his trials in the adult world are experiments—a “let’s try and see” approach. Though he dislikes ambiguity, this seems to be working. Concurrently, we remind him that he will have to take classes he does not find interesting and may not see a direct connection to his final degree, something I’ve observed in many autistic students.

For Grace, who’s still in her teens, we’ve embraced an “unschooling” format. Our homeschooling is highly interest-based, with 90% of learning done around topics she’s passionate about. She demonstrates her understanding through conversation or art rather than conventional assessments.

Setting up this structure and tweaking it as we move along has helped to empower them and keeps me sane by not having to constantly follow them around. They are both home and working towards their own goals. The temptation to fall back into the gravity of non-action is always present, despite their desire to succeed and become adults in the world. So, this external structure, combined with an understanding of our shared issues around executive function and safety, has been essential.