How a Strength Journal Helped Me Rebuild Confidence in Myself and in My Neurodivergent Son

Last summer, I hit a breaking point. I was standing in the kitchen, staring at the pile of dishes in the sink while listening to my two sons fighting in their room, and I just lost it. Not in a loud, dramatic way but more like a quiet, exhausted collapse. My son had come home with a teacher’s note that he forgot to do his homework (again), a parent had called to complain about my son’s impulsive behavior toward her daughter and we had just been thrown out of my son’s soccer club because my son was spacing off too much during practice. I had this awful, heavy feeling that everything was just too much. I felt helpless and extremely frustrated.

That night, I sat on the couch and told myself, “There has to be something my son is doing right. Anything.” And I grabbed a pen and wrote down three things:

• He dressed himself this morning.

• He gave me a hug before he went to school.

• He said “thank you” when my mom handed him a cookie.

That was the beginning of my strength journal. And honestly? It changed a lot in our family.

Why it’s so easy to forget the good stuff

When we have ADHD, whether it’s our kid, our spouse or we ourselves, it often feels like we’re living under a microscope. People notice what we forget, what we mess up, what we miss. And eventually, we start noticing that more than anything else too.

Before I started keeping that little journal, my brain was like a highlighter for everything my son did wrong. I’d fall asleep thinking about the things other parents complained about to me, the teachers’ notes from school and the awkward conversations I had even with my own relatives. But the stuff that went well? I barely registered.

A journal for the small wins

Recently, I had read somewhere that our brain is trained to look for threats and failures. But we can re-train it to look for wins instead.

So I started small. Each night, I’d scribble down three things that went well. Regarding my son and our relationship. Sometimes it was “He didn’t forget his coat at school.” Sometimes it was “I didn’t yell at my son, even though I wanted to.”

It was weird at first. I felt like I was stretching to find anything good. But slowly, something shifted. My eyes started scanning the day while it was still happening for those little wins. I started catching myself feeling much better about my son and the things he did – or didn’t do.

Doing it with my son

One night, my son was having a rough time at bedtime. He was crying over school stuff, frustrated because he felt like “the dumb one” in class. That broke my heart because I saw how hard he was trying, how creative and curious he was, even when school wasn’t built for his brain.

So I crabbed my notebook and said, “Hey, do you want to try something with me?” We sat on the bed and wrote down three good things from our day. I wrote down three things that went well for me and helped him come up with things he liked about his day.

• “I stopped playing videogames without a major tantrum.”

• “I remembered to bring my helmet to skateboarding practice.”

• “I raised my hand in class, even though I was nervous.”

At the end, he smiled. And fell asleep within five minutes. We’ve been doing it on and off ever since.

It doesn’t have to be fancy

We don’t always use a notebook. Sometimes we write things on sticky notes and put them on the fridge. We’ve got a jar in the kitchen too, and on tough days, we pull out a few slips and read them aloud.

There was one time when I was spiraling after a long day and many small fights with my son. My son pulled out one of my notes from the jar and read it: “Mom helped me stay calm when I was mad.” I cried. Not because I was sad, but because I needed to hear that. Sometimes, we just need evidence that we’re not as lost or broken as we feel.

What counts as a win?

For me, a win is anything that reminds me I’m trying. That I showed up. That I didn’t give up. Some recent ones:

• “I emailed the teacher, even though it made me nervous.”

• “I made it through the day without canceling plans.”

• “I laughed. Like, really laughed.”

That’s the kind of stuff we miss if we’re not looking for it.

Why It works

Here’s what I’ve learned: ADHD brains are not broken. But they are wired for fast thinking, deep feeling, and constant stimulation. Which means we often miss the quiet, steady evidence that we’re doing okay.

Keeping a strength journal helped me tune into those moments. It helped me see my kid (and myself as a parent) with more kindness. It gave me something to hold on to when my confidence slipped.

And it reminded me that progress doesn’t have to be loud or flashy. Sometimes it’s as simple as showing up and trying again tomorrow.

So if you’re feeling like everything’s falling apart or like nothing you or your children do is enough, try keeping a strength journal. Just note down three things, every night. Write them down. Say them out loud. Tuck them into a jar. Write them on a roll of toilet paper.

Whatever way you do it, remind yourself: You or your loved ones are doing better than you think. And you are absolutely not alone.