Living in a small home with a neurodivergent family isn’t always easy. Here are ten things that have brought peace into our valiant attempt at simple living.
The story.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. My husband and I wanted to live more simply, and isn’t part of simple living downsizing your house?
But nearly a decade after our earth-sheltered house was built, I stood in the middle of it, seething inside. I wanted to listen to music. Without headphones.
Oh, and sing along, too. I love to sing.
But I couldn’t. Not without escaping to one of the outbuildings.
My guys didn’t want to hear either the music or my singing, and our home refused to acquiesce to both.
It’s only 576 square feet.
My love-hate relationship with my home.
Some days, I wish our home were three times bigger. (Conveniently forgetting how much I loathe housecleaning.)
Other days, I wish I had a completely different kind of life. One where I and a rescue cat live in perfect harmony.
Alone.
Then there are the quiet days when it all fits almost perfectly: the occasional mess, the quirks, the three of us accidentally stampeding into each other’s space.
I don’t have all the answers for making small-space living easy for a neurodivergent family. Though in some ways it does facilitate a simpler life, in other ways… not so much.
Still, after eleven years, I’ve noticed what helps us stay connected, what helps us recover when things go off the rails, and what makes the space feel big enough to be able to breathe with a nice, luxurious stretch. But first…
Living in a small home with a neurodivergent family: The reality check.
The three of us are neurodivergent, yes, but we have varying degrees and types of sensory sensitivities. My husband, for example, can’t understand why our son or I should object when he has a peanut butter snack. I don’t get my husband’s instant anxiety at the slightest prospect of having to talk to a stranger or get on the road and go somewhere different.
Family sensory overload affects each of us differently.
We are also all introverts.
Living in under 600 square feet.
And the only room with a real door is the bathroom.
I crave listening to music to keep my sanity, but I can only stand headphones for so long (and earbuds, never!). Yet I’m the only one who needs to listen to music on a regular basis.
My “boys” not only don’t need it, they don’t want it.
Some days, my husband or myself just wants some peace and quiet. We settle down to a book or video, or I start working on my writing… and out of his room comes our son, starting what turns out to be a ten-minute argument conversation that ends with me wanting to pull my hair out.
We’ve basically built a Jenga house of compromises.
By some miracle, it’s still standing.
How we keep sane (AKA, small-house survival tips).
We’ve had to learn how to live in a small house with sensory needs (a-hem, I mean, the people have sensory needs, not the house). We don’t have it down-pat, but we’ve figured a lot of it out.
And life is, indeed, simpler now than it was when we first got started on this journey.
So here are ten neurodivergent family shared-space tips that might help your family, as well.
That is, if you’re crazy enough to downsize as much as we did. 😉
#1: Create family routines.
A tiny-house-neurodivergent-family life demands family routines. For example, we’ve organically developed a rhythm to our mornings: who brushes their teeth when (we only have one sink), what time we each make our morning smoothie, and so on. I do laundry by hand (yeah, I feel that groan), and my husband helps with the heavy lifting related to the chore that I can’t do. Our son brings the spin dryer out from its hiding place in our bedroom and puts it away at a certain time.
Crafting family routines reduces conflict big-time. It also soothes the autistic parts of each of our brain that crave structure and familiarity.
#2: Share a few rituals.
Another helpful aspect of living in a small home with a neurodivergent family is having shared rituals.
The three of us pray together for a few minutes every morning. On Monday evenings, we watch an old T.V. series together (right now it’s Star Trek: The Next Generation). Most other nights, my husband and I watch something together for around an hour.
Sharing rituals with other family members helps to maintain closeness, which can be tricky with a bunch of introverted autistic people.
Even when they’re living in a small space.
#3: Respect each other’s personal space.
Creating personal space in a small home is critical for introverts. Of the three of us, I’m the one who struggles the most with this. Not that I’m disrespecting people on purpose, but when something pops into my head and I want to say it before I forget, I say it.
I am in the process of learning how to write non-urgent things down so I don’t have to rely on my faulty neurodivergent-postmenopausal memory.
When living in a small home with a neurodivergent family, it’s wise to set a few ground rules. For example, when I need to get my husband’s attention and he has his headphones on, I’m supposed to say, “Talk,” or, “Question,” or his name, so he knows I’m not just talking to myself.
#4: Use headphones.
Speaking of headphones… yeah. It’s one of the best tools to prevent family sensory overload! Even if we had separate rooms, we’d be able to hear each other’s videos and video games if we didn’t all wear headphones.
The exception is if I’m sitting on my bed and the guys have their headphones on. I’m able to hear things at a low enough volume that I can listen to my Kindle or on my phone there without danger of bothering them.
#5: Establish quiet times.
We don’t need this one anymore, as most of us are quiet most of the time. When our son was younger, however, we needed to set boundaries as to when he could make noise and when he needed to go outside so we could have some peace.
#6: Establish zones.
Again, this was more relevant when our son was young. Before I moved the furniture around, there was a large, open space in the middle of the house, about a hundred square feet. That was where he was allowed to build big Lego projects or run around.
If you live in a small space with neurodivergent family members, however, you might want to set up one room or area that’s for reading and meditation, and another that’s for hobbies, and so on.
#7: Communicate openly and often.
It behooves any family that is living in a small home to learn to respectfully communicate their needs and complaints. In a neurodivergent family consisting of people with different sensory sensitivities and interests, it’s even more important.
Read my six best tips for a thriving neurodivergent marriage.
#8: Embrace minimalism together.
I have over 1100 books… and most of them are in my Kindle library. When I want to listen to music, I use YouTube.
The digital age has made living minimally easier than ever.
My family doesn’t aspire to be minimalists in the strictest sense. And we have two sheds to prove that we have not yet arrived in our ability to get rid of the stuff we’re not using. This YouTuber has inspired me to do better.
In the meantime, at least our house is tidy and visually appealing.
#9: Compromise bedtime.
This aspect of small home living with a neurodivergent family is essential. Even if you have doors on bedrooms, those who stay up later have to be super-quiet in order not to disturb those who have gone to bed.
The best solution is for everyone to have more or less the same bedtime.
#10: Celebrate small wins.
Like family rituals, acknowledging when something works out well, patting each other on the back for a job well done, facilitates closer bonds.
My son does our yard and garden maintenance, and every so often I thank him for doing the work. The year my husband raccoon-proofed our garden, I gifted him a T-shirt that said, “Best Husband Ever.”
If your family is neurodivergent, getting into a habit of this kind of occasional verbal celebration will go far to fostering stronger relationships. Because if not, we tend to stay in our own heads and forget that those around us need affirmation.
The small joys that save us.
When you’re living in a very small home, shared jokes come easily and often. Evenings are much cozier than in a large house. Instead of being surrounded by expansive – and often dark – spaces, I feel I’m in a snug nest, safe and secure against the unknowns of the night.
Having less space encourages togetherness. It pushes us to notice each other more, and with the noticing comes greater caring, more empathy.
Sometimes, the same closeness that drives me crazy also keeps us woven together.
I still wish for more space. I still daydream about silence. But for the moment, this small home is where our lives happen. Sometimes awkwardly, usually imperfectly.
But other times?
Beautifully.
And that makes all the difference.
