Blog

Letting Go of One Identity to Protect Another

I handed in my work keys and laptop today. It marked my last day in the role — a bittersweet moment. On one hand, I feel overwhelming relief at stepping away from the increasingly impossible balancing act between professional commitments and my caring responsibilities. On the other, it feels like I’m losing a big part of who I am.

Teaching has always been my passion. I knew from the moment I started primary school that I wanted to be a teacher. Since 2005, I’ve worked in secondary education, teaching physical education and taking on roles like guidance teacher and principal teacher of curriculum development. I never imagined doing anything else, even after starting a family.

Diagnosis, Demands, and the Start of the Juggle

After the birth of my second daughter, my eldest was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder and hyperacusis. The diagnosis didn’t change the way I saw her — she was, and is, my brilliant, beautiful girl— but it did help to explain some of the challenges we’d been navigating.

Getting to that point involved countless appointments with paediatricians, speech and language therapists, audiologists, and educational specialists. While school holidays offered time with my children, teaching doesn’t easily allow time off during term. The guilt of asking for time away — while knowing it was essential for her care — weighed heavily.

It wasn’t just appointments I had to juggle. The additional admin involved when you have a child with additional support needs can also feel overwhelming, filling out endless forms for services, benefits, and support. I felt I had to tell our whole story again and again, that isn’t just physically demanding but also emotionally draining. Additionally, my daughter had sleep difficulties — I was functioning on four to six hours of broken sleep most nights

I was also a single parent by then, which compounded the difficulties. When I got the opportunity to move into teacher education at a university, I took it. The role offered more flexibility, and with some clever planning, I managed. I continued working full-time, often catching up with planning and marking on evenings and weekends, and even began studying for a master’s degree. I loved the role — I had great colleagues, I was teaching wonderful student teachers and continuing to grow professionally.

Lockdown: The Breaking Point

Then lockdown hit. Suddenly, I became responsible for supporting the home learning of both my daughters — aged five and seven — each needing one-on-one attention. At the same time, I was teaching online lectures and seminars, managing a household alone, and trying to complete my postgraduate degree. There simply weren’t enough hours in the day— and I reached burnout.

Even after lockdown eased, things remained difficult. The already sparse childcare options available for children with additional support needs had become almost non-existent I eventually had to take time off from both work and study. That month gave me space to reflect. I realised that if something had to give, it had to be work. My girls’ wellbeing — and my own — had to come first.

Finding a New Balance

After returning to work, I asked to reduce my hours significantly. I didn’t feel good about it. It felt like admitting defeat, even though it was the right decision. Caring for someone with additional needs is a vitally important but also misunderstood and undervalued role. Some colleagues made light-hearted comments about how I’d enjoy all my “free time,” not understanding how over-stretched I still was.

I managed to finish my master’s degree — a proud moment, made even more special by having both my daughters at the graduation ceremony. For the past three years, I’ve worked two days a week. That balance has allowed me to attend school events, keep up with appointments, and still stay connected to my professional self.

But it hasn’t been easy. This past year, I had to go to tribunal to secure a specialist high school placement for my eldest daughter — a stressful, time-consuming, and emotionally draining process. Now, as I begin searching for new employment again, I still face uncertainty of whether my eldest will continue to get home to school transport, which would allow me to get to work on time.

Looking Forward — With Caution and Hope

Despite everything, I don’t want to paint my life as a parent-carer as all hardship. My daughters and I are incredibly close. We laugh, we play, and we create wonderful memories together. They are amazing girls, and I am endlessly proud of them. All I want is to do right by them.

So here I am — in between roles, doing voluntary work that gives me a sense of purpose, and looking for paid employment that will fit our complex lives. I worry about the financial implications of stepping back from regular paid work, but I also know this is the right path for now.

Final Thoughts

Caring for a loved one while trying to maintain a career is more than just a juggling act — it’s a constant negotiation of energy, time, identity, and emotion. I hope that by sharing my story, others in similar situations feel seen. I also hope it contributes to a greater understanding of what carer-employees carry every day — and how much more supportive and flexible our systems need to be.