The silver lining nobody talks about 🌥️

Last weekend, I watched William (7) jump back and forth on a piano embedded in the floor of the local children's museum. 🎹

The corners of his eyes wrinkled in delight as he listened to the musical sounds his feet made.

He turned to his older brother, searching for recognition that Cooper (11) was also enjoying the music-making, and received a smile in return.

I then spent the next hour following my two PDA sons around to the different exhibits.

They tested levers, whispered to each other across the room using amplifying disks, and felt how different materials absorbed solar energy.

On the way home from the museum (a place we hadn't been in over a year), William announced "I'm out of burnout mama."

I felt myself tear up and immense joy spread through my chest.

As anyone who has accompanied a PDA child or teen in burnout knows, these moments bring a feeling of gratitude with a logic that is hard to describe to someone who has not.

The feeling is deeper than "getting your child out of the house again."

It is the magical realization that you are witnessing the light return to their eyes and that they are reaching for life again.

There is nothing like the 'aha' moment when you watch their intrinsic motivation emerge. Something that has been buried beneath their threat response for months and sometimes years.

These moments don't have to be "big" to bring on the happy tears.

It might be the moment your teen leaves their room for the first time in months and simply sits in the same room as you for 10 minutes.

It might be the surprise invitation your child extends after refusing to "talk about" anything for a year by saying "you can ask me questions today."

I would never have appreciated these simple pleasures, if I hadn't felt the fear and uncertainty of watching them slip away.

The truth is, as much as we want it to be, life after burnout is not a "return to normal."

It is the aftermath of a harrowing transformation, for both you and your child.

Life after burnout doesn't mean that your child is now neurotypical, and you can just announce that you are all going to the museum and might stop for groceries afterwards.

That you can plan to chat on the phone while your children play without your attention or scaffolding.

The new equilibrium requires many of the things that brought you out of burnout:

Mindful accommodations.

Tracking cumulative stress.

Lowering expectations.

While dancing on the edge of their now lowered threat response.

You will need to bring the headphones, the extra snacks, and the knowledge that you may be heading right back home after paying the museum entrance fee.

But on the other side of all of it, there is also a depth of gratitude that most parents never get to feel.

Your child at the museum, jumping on a piano with light in his eyes. Reaching for his brother. Curious about the world again.

For many of us in this community, that is what winning the lottery feels like.

And if you can let go of the "before times," even a little, and allow yourself to be present in those moments as they arrive: life really can feel a whole lot more sparkly.