5 Brutal Truths About Post-Matrix Neurodivergence (From a Family Who Left the System)

Everybody thought we were on vacation.

That’s the thing no one tells you when you leave the system — when you walk away from the job, the school, the schedule.

They think you’ve escaped.
But sometimes it feels like you’ve just escaped into chaos.

We didn’t leave because we hated life. We left because we wanted a better one.
More freedom. More connection. More life.

But nobody gave us a map. And honestly, some days I don’t know if we’re building something beautiful or just barely holding it together.

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1. We Left to Be Free — But That Didn’t Mean It Got Easier

When we left, people assumed we were lazy. Or afraid of hard work. That we were making some bougie, self-indulgent life choice.

They didn’t see what we saw:
Our daughter suffocating under structure.

Our family drifting.

We wanted to travel. To be present.

To teach our kids through life, not just textbooks.

We want to explore the world while we’re young.

That’s what we told people. And it was true.

But what was also true?

The second we left the system, it felt like the bottom dropped out.
There was no rhythm. No blueprint. No support.

Just us — and all the stuff the system used to hide.

But post-matrix neurodivergence feels more like walking out of one maze and straight into another.

We were choosing a different path — one that meant letting go of traditional expectations and starting the work of redefining achievement.

Leaving high control systems lead to some trauma, so if there is hesitation or pushback, here is a resource to understand why.

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2. Routines? LOL. Especially When Everyone Has PDA

We tried routines. We really did.

But here’s what you need to know about our family:

All of us — me, my wife, my kids — have demand avoidance. Like, full-blown PDA.

It’s not just “I don’t want to.” It’s “My whole body rejects being told what to do — even if I want it.”

And when everyone in the house is like that?
It’s wild.

We’d plan an outing and no one would get ready.

We’d agree to clean and suddenly everyone had a headache. Even brushing teeth felt like a hostage negotiation.

And then the guilt creeps in.

Shouldn’t we be better at this? Didn’t we choose this life?

The thing about PDA is — the more pressure you apply, even gentle pressure, the more everything crumbles.
So we stopped trying to make rules.
We started looking for rhythm instead.

“Let’s put on music while we clean — you want to pick the playlist?”

“Hey, I’m making food. Want to be in charge of the snacks?”

We got creative.
Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

But it’s way better than trying to force everyone into something that ends in shouting or shutdown.

We had to ask: Do your habits serve you or control you?

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3. Chaos Is Predictable — Routines Are Not

We thought meals could anchor the day.

Sometimes they did. Sometimes we fought over ketchup packets like it was currency.

We thought bedtime would be calm.

Then someone would refuse a shower, someone else would be stimming loud enough to shake the walls, and someone (maybe me) would pretend to use the bathroom just to hide.

Every time we thought we found a rhythm, something would shift.

And still — there were tiny wins.
Not perfect days.
Just little moments of connection that reminded us why we left.

The truth is, we needed to curate our environment to support the chaos, not fight it.

Curious how environment impacts executive function? Harvard’s Center on the Developing Child explains it brilliantly.

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4. Birthdays Break Us (Almost Every Time)

If I had to name one recurring emotional crisis in our family, it’d be birthdays.

• The year my daughter told me she’d rather be with strangers on my birthday
• The time she literally jumped out of a window before we could leave for the arcade
• The meltdown over pink balloons my son popped on my wife’s birthday — that one ended with my wife whispering: “I finally get why people thought others were possessed. They were just autistic, and no one knew what to do.”

And she wasn’t wrong.

It’s not the parties. It’s the transition. The anticipation. The pressure.
It’s everything hitting all at once — and exploding.

We’ve stopped pretending birthdays are magical.
Now we just try to survive them.

And in the process, we’ve had to learn what emotional maturity looks like for neurodivergent families.

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5. We Measure Success Differently Now

I used to measure success in achievement. Wins. Outcomes.
Now?

• Did we all eat something before noon? That’s a win.
• Did no one cry over spilled juice? Bonus round.
• Did I get 15 uninterrupted minutes with my wife? MVP moment.
• Did no one scream or smear poop today? WE’RE THRIVING.

I used to feel embarrassed saying this out loud.
Now I know these aren’t low standards — they’re realistic ones for families like mine.

Because we didn’t leave the system to live a fake version of freedom.
We left it to live a real one — even if it’s chaotic, emotional, and completely unpredictable.

We’ve had to trust our intuition more than any parenting guide or productivity guru.

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🧭 Your Compass Point

This life we’re building?
It’s not clean.
It’s not branded.
It doesn’t look like the unschooling dream people post on Instagram.

But it’s ours.

It’s honest. It’s messy. And most days, we’re still here showing up for each other in ways the system never showed up for us.

That counts.

For us, living with purpose and pleasure is a radical act — especially when the world tells us chaos is failure.

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🔗 Where You Go From Here

If you haven’t downloaded it yet, I made something for you.
It’s called The Chaos Compass — not a routine, just 5 gentle anchors that help us create rhythm when everything feels unhinged.

Use what works. Scrap the rest.
You’re not behind. You’re building something the system never taught us how to create.

Families navigating post-matrix neurodivergence aren’t looking for productivity hacks — they’re searching for permission to exist outside the rules. That’s what The Chaos Compass offers.

Download the Chaos Compass and let it be your first step back to breath.

A Different Kind of Brave

This life? It’s not curated. It’s not easy. And it sure as hell isn’t always pretty.

But it’s honest.

It takes a different kind of bravery to step outside the system — not just to leave, but to stay gone.
To keep showing up.

To keep trying, even when it’s messy and misunderstood.

If you’re in the thick of it — unsure if you're doing it right, or if you're just surviving — you’re not alone.

There’s no one-size-fits-all map for families like ours. But there are compass points.
Gentle ones. Adaptable ones. Anchors, not blueprints.

So if you're looking for a place to start — not perfect, just possible — start there.

With breath.

With rhythm.

With one tiny moment of connection.

You’re not failing.
You’re building something the world never taught us how to create.

And that?
That’s revolutionary.