When a Parent of a Child with ADHD Seeks Therapy

When a parent of a child with ADHD turns to therapy, they often arrive carrying a deep sense of exhaustion, confusion, and sometimes even quiet despair. It’s not just about managing technical challenges like organization, outbursts, or difficulty with persistence. It’s an emotionally charged space, woven with pain, love, helplessness, responsibility, and endless worry. From within that place, therapy offers the parent tools—not just in the sense of techniques, but as an invitation to deeply understand what lies beneath the surface, both in the child and within themselves.

A child with ADHD is often a child who experiences rejection on a regular basis: from the teacher in class, from friends at the playground, from siblings who struggle to handle them, and sometimes even from their parents—not out of lack of love, but from fatigue. The comments, the worried looks, the repeated rejection—these all build up. Over time, such a child may begin to see themselves through a negative lens: “I’m disruptive,” “I’m not okay,” “I don’t belong.” This poses a real threat to their self-esteem and to their ability to develop a stable and healthy sense of identity. When a parent learns to recognize this rejection, to notice when their child is entering a state of defense or withdrawal, and to respond in a way that restores their sense of worth—a deep transformation begins. It doesn’t require a perfect approach, just a consistent presence that refuses to adopt the negative narrative the child is starting to believe about themselves.

And the parent? They are no less important. Often, they forget themselves in the daily struggle—between home and school, between conflicting advice, and between the energetic child and the other children at home who also need attention. Therapy offers a space where the parent is invited to look at themselves with compassion: What triggers them? What hurts them? When do they feel the ground slipping beneath their feet? It’s a place where it’s okay to feel—not just to function. When we begin to listen to these emotions—frustration, fear, the love that longs to find its way—emotional resilience is built. A resilience that helps the parent keep going, even when the child explodes again, even when the teacher sends yet another message, even when outside comments sting.

One of the most powerful tools a parent gains in therapy is the ability to “translate” their child’s behavior for what it really is: an expression of difficulty, not a lack of willingness to cooperate. For example, instead of reacting with a shout to an outburst, the parent learns to recognize what came just before it: the feeling of loneliness, or the inability to regulate disappointment. Gradually, a new language emerges between parent and child—a language not necessarily based on words, but on presence, listening, and responding to the need behind the behavior.

At the same time, practical tools are also provided—how to give clear instructions, how to break big tasks into manageable steps, how to use positive reinforcement rooted in relationship rather than in rewards. But these tools do not stand alone. They are part of a relationship. They only become effective when there is an emotional foundation that holds the child—showing them that even when they struggle, they are still wanted, they still belong, and they are still loved.

Therapy also plays another role: helping the parent see each child in the family, not just the one with challenges. To see how siblings respond—sometimes with jealousy, sometimes with confusion. To understand what is asked of them when they constantly see their sibling absorbing most of the family’s energy. Here, too, sensitivity begins to grow: What is each child experiencing? What story are they telling themselves?

And in the relationship between the parents—sometimes the connection becomes reduced to logistics: coordination, instructions, functioning. Therapy creates a space where they can once again meet each other as people, speak without criticism, and remember that at the heart of the burnout are two individuals who didn’t want to merely survive—but to raise a family, to love, and to be together.

This process is not easy, and it often takes time, trial and error. But when a parent begins to see differently—themselves, the child, the relationship—something fundamental starts to shift. Not a magic solution, but a slow and precise movement toward a relationship with more understanding, more flexibility, and more room to breathe—within what is already so challenging.