I thought I was ready for what it meant to give up work to support my daughter, and for my own mental health. I knew that it was going to be a test of my patience. I knew it was going to potentially mean boredom. I knew I might struggle to be present. What I hadn’t appreciated was the gut wrenching loneliness I would feel, like a part of me has died.

I know it’s only been a week but I feel like I’ve slipped out of time. There’s a whole world going on, but mine has gone back to having preschoolers, only with much more complex situations, like secondary school head teachers, to negotiate.

I can’t even put it into words, which is rare for me.

I guess, when the children are younger, you’re in survival and less aware of the passing of time. Then, when they get to primary, there is the camaraderie of the school gate. But now the only people who could understand our situation are in worse situations themselves, and even if I did go online to those forums, I want to escape where we are not read more heartbreaking stories. I want to talk about Bake Off and weekend plans and what’s for dinner, or even the next marketing campaign. I want to laugh at silly jokes and eat banana bread with people that, after two years, have become like family, even though we worked remotely most of the time. I’m so used to chatting all day on Teams, it’s taking all my self restraint to not spam them on WhatsApp. I miss them, but they’re busy getting on with life.

And I am trying to do that too.

All those things you say you’ll do ‘when you have time’. Decorating and napping and painting Christmas cards with my daughter. Writing again. And I’m grateful that I can. I’m grateful not to be juggling work with a poorly child at home. But being ND hasn’t left me with many friends and the ones I have, funnily enough, have busy lives too.

Our School Academy has a Policy on supporting pupils with medical conditions that includes the line, “No parent/carer should have to give up working because the academy is failing to support their child’s medical needs.” I realise they mean more administering insulin rather than recovering from neurodivergent burnout, but it did emphasise how much our school system is failing children with mental health issues. Because how can an Academy, with its limited resources and government targets, support a child who can’t be in school? Unless we’re all home for a pandemic, of course.

Things will get better. When the days get a bit longer and we fall into a routine. I nearly didn’t share this post, because it sounds like complaining. But it isn’t. It’s just spreading awareness that, just maybe, that person leaving work isn’t celebrating their freedom as much as you might think.