NO, NO, AND… STILL NO: AN ADHD PARENTING STORY

According to Kei, I say “no” more than I say “hello.”

• No candy.

• No soda.

• No staying up until 2am —not today, not tomorrow, not even for a party hosted by Zorro.

• No, you can’t buy that $65 toy that breaks before we get to the parking lot.

• And definitely no, you may not trade your actual lunch for six fruit roll-ups, a gummy taco and an eraser shaped like a snowman.

Apparently, I’m ruining his life one “no” at a time. But let’s flip this uno reverse card, shall we?

Me: Kei, please brush your teeth.

Kei: No.

Me: Put some pants on.

Kei: Still no.

Me: Clean up your mess.

Kei: That's a negative, Ghost Rider.

Me: Fold your clothes.

Kei: Gosh, I’d love to help, but unfortunately, I’ve made other plans… doing absolutely anything else.

So, if I’m the Queen of No, he’s the Prince of Pushback. A true monarch of mutiny.

But here’s the thing nobody warned me about in the parenting manual I never got: for ADHD kids, “no” isn’t just a boundary…it’s a full-body betrayal.

When Kei was little, saying “no” triggered a full-scale emotional riot — tears, flailing limbs, dramatic gasps, and full-body inchworm crawls across the floor like he was auditioning for a very unhinged interpretive dance troupe.

His nervous system basically broke into civil war:

One side screamed “SHE DOESN’T LOVE ME.”

The other shrieked, “I WONDER WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT HALF-EATEN SLICE OF PIZZA I HID IN MY UNDERWEAR DRAWER. I WANT IT NOW!”

And I just stood there, holding a juice box and questioning every life choice.

Now that he's older, I get the side-eye, the door slam, the huff and the "It’s not fair" soliloquy. A true thespian of injustice.

WHY “NO” HITS DIFFERENT WITH ADHD KIDS

“No” feels like a rejection. And for many neurodivergent kids — especially those with ADHD — that rejection lands like a gut punch from the inside out.

Enter stage left: Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (aka RSD) and Rejection sensitivity.

This is not your run-of-the-mill “Aw man, I didn’t get my way” kind of disappointment.

Nope.

This is a nervous system fire alarm going off, full emotional Code Red, meltdown in aisle 3 because the ice pop is the wrong flavor kind of thing.

And no, it’s not just drama for drama’s sake — it’s actual brain science.While experts are still unraveling the nitty gritty of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD), we do know it’s strongly linked to ADHD and ASD. That said, it hasn’t been officially recognized as a medical condition in the DSM-5 yet (because of course it hasn’t — welcome to neurodivergence).

RSD and general rejection sensitivity share many symptoms, mostly tied to emotional dysregulation. But the big difference? RSD hits harder. Like, emotional gut-punch to the gonads harder. It’s not just “ouch, that stung.” It’s “I need to emotionally ice-pack my soul and maybe some other parts I can’t mention in polite society” level pain. It causes intense emotional pain, while regular ol' rejection sensitivity is more like background noise with a sting.

Current studies show that the amygdala (a.k.a. the part of the brain responsible for emotional freak-outs) is actually structured differently in ADHD/ASD brains. Translation? Everything hits harder, faster, and with a touch more existential despair.

For most people, rejection rolls off like water on a raincoat.But for someone with RSD?

It soaks in like red wine on white carpet — fast, loud, and guaranteed to stain.

Symptoms of RSD include:

·       Crippling embarrassment over nothing

·       Emotional outbursts that make telenovelas look underacted

·       Spiraling into “I’m the worst human on Earth” territory because you forgot to say thank you at Starbucks

·       Avoiding anything that even sniffs of possible rejection

·       People-pleasing like it’s a competitive sport — paired with anxiety, perfectionism, and zero chill

So yeah. When I say “no” to Kei’s 8pm dream of starting a backyard squirrel circus or buying a slime launcher on Etsy, I’m not just being “mean.” I’m tapping on an invisible emotional bruise. One that his brain is already blasting through a megaphone labeled “REJECTED BY MOTHER. SYSTEM FAILURE IMMINENT.”

BUT WAIT — THERE’S MORE (ADHD BRAIN EDITION)

The ADHD brain doesn’t filter internal signals the same way neurotypical brains do.You know how most people have a mental bouncer who says, “Hmm, this thought doesn’t need attention right now”? Yeah — ADHD brains fired that guy.

There’s just… noise. All the time. Thoughts. Feelings. Sensory data. Rejections. Regrets. A sudden urge to Google if cats can cry. It’s all getting through.

That’s why ND kids like Kei can go from “I’m fine” to “THE WORLD IS LAVA” in 0.4 seconds flat.

Loud noises? Sudden changes? Emotional tug-of-war?

Their brain can’t always regulate that chaos — especially when rejection shows up disguised as “You can’t have a fourth cookie.”

So next time you see your ADHD kid fall apart over a tiny no, just know:Their brain is doing the neurological equivalent of throwing water balloons at a ceiling fan and hoping for the best.

But boundaries matter — especially for ADHD kids.

WHY ADHD KIDS (SECRETLY) CRAVE STRUCTURE

I know, I know — it sounds counterintuitive. Why would someone with emotional landmines wired into their brain need even more structure? Because that’s the secret sauce. Structure is like noise-canceling headphones for the nervous system.

✅ Routines

✅ Predictability

✅ Clear expectations

✅ Follow-through

✅ Consistent yes’s and no’s

These boundaries are the bumpers in the bowling alley of life. Without them, everything goes straight into the gutter. (And by “everything,” I mean bedtime, emotions, and the remaining half of the pantry.)

Saying “no” helps Kei not become the kid who eats half a gallon of cookies and cream topped with Takis Fuego… and then cries because his stomach feels like molten lava and poor choices.

“No” is the unsung hero of parenting an ADHD kid. It keeps the wheels on the track and keeps me from mainlining a double whisky by noon.

HOW TO SAY “NO” WITHOUT SAYING “NO" IN ADHD PARENTING

Ask yourself two things:

1.     Are you a parent who avoids saying “no” because you don’t want to crush their tiny soul (again)?

2.     Does your kid hear “no” and immediately forget how to function as a human being?

If “no” sends your nervous system into panic mode and theirs into full existential meltdown, don’t worry — you can still hold the line… You’ll just need to do a little parkour with your wording:

·      “Try again.”

·      “Let’s make a different choice.”

·      “That’s not what we discussed.”

·      “You can either [follow directions] or [lose something you care about].”

·      “Not right now.”

·      “We don’t have time for that.”

·      “If you choose [chaos], you’re saying no to [fun thing later].”

·      “Hmm… was that on the schedule?”

·      “Maybe we can do that another time.”

·      “I hear you. I know you really want to [insert nonsense] but I need you to [insert reality]”

·      “You have [insert time] to make a different decision.”

·      [Token system]: Remove one. Explain. Try not to smirk.

·      [Time-out system]: Use it like the Jedi tool it is. Calm. Neutral. Slightly terrifying.

·      [Just shake your head “no.”] (No words. No drama. Just pure disappointment energy radiating from your face like a Wi-Fi signal.)

And if you can’t muster the words — and nothing else worked — just perfect The Look™— or, as I like to call it, The Death Stare.

When you’re enjoying ice cream topped with chaos… and Mom’s eyes are doing surveillance from the Renaissance.

The key to a solid Death Stare is this: you never, ever break eye contact. No blinking. No smirking. Just pure, silent judgment.

If they turn away, you don’t flinch. You stay locked in — like a budget Mona Lisa with boundary issues.

And eventually? They’ll crumble. Slowly. Dramatically. Like the Leaning Tower of Pisa giving up on life.

The Look always wins.

Even ADHD brains have a self-preservation setting… and it’s triggered by mom going full statue mode.

You’re still setting the boundary… just without triggering full-blown DEFCON 1 in aisle five.

But let’s be crystal clear:If you say something like “Maybe later” or “We don’t have time for that right now,” please — for the love of your future sanity — mean it. Because while ADHD kids can’t remember where they left their right sock (spoiler: it's under the fridge), they have a sixth sense for promises made under duress.

They will remember that “maybe” like it was notarized.Because guess what? Now is later.And that “thing we didn’t have time for” is suddenly the top priority on Earth now that your hands are full and you're running late.

Avoid the metaphorical stand-off of "But you said..."If it came out of your mouth, it’s canon. It’s law. It will return to haunt you like a ghost made of broken trust and unbought slime from Walmart.

Say it, mean it, follow through. Or prepare for the courtroom drama starring your child as the prosecution and you as the unreliable narrator.

FINAL THOUGHTS FROM HER ROYAL NO-NESS

Yes, I say no.

No, I don’t feel bad about it.

Yes, he thinks I’m ruining his life.

No, he can’t have soda for breakfast.

But maybe, just maybe, my “no’s” are what help him regulate in a world that doesn’t always understand him.

And maybe one day, when he’s an adult who brushes his teeth without bribery and doesn’t scream at traffic cones, he’ll say:“Thanks, Mom. You were annoying, but consistent.”

That’s the dream, right?

—Tara

Gatekeeper of The Death Stare,

High Priestess of Predictability,

Official Distributor of Loving, Annoying No’s