For years, I tried to fix my son’s meltdowns.
I tried to stop them, shorten them, outsmart them, prevent them… anything to regain a sense of control.
I wasn’t seeing defiance — not really — but I was still treating his behaviour as if it needed managing, shaping, redirecting. And I did it with all the confidence of someone trained in autism support, someone who should know what to do.
But none of it worked.
Not the behaviour charts.
Not the visual timetables.
Not the calm-down corners or sensory breaks.
Not even the strategies I taught other parents.
The harder I pushed, the harder everything became. And when I finally stopped long enough to really look at my son, I realised something that changed everything:
He didn’t need to be fixed. He needed to feel safe.
Before the Shift: Living in Survival Mode
Our days were built around three-hour meltdowns. Sometimes longer. Sometimes several.
It felt like walking on eggshells — holding my breath, bracing for the next explosion.
And I blamed myself constantly.
“How can I teach this, but not manage it in my own home?”
“What am I missing?”
“Why can’t I do better?”
I was so focused on the behaviour that I completely missed the story beneath it.
And honestly… it was overwhelming. Meltdowns dysregulate the whole house — the child and the parent. Both experiences are real. Both painful. Both valid.
But the way I responded to my distress wasn’t helping his.
And that was the part I had to face if anything was ever going to change.
Understanding My PDA Child’s Nervous System
My son is PDA — he has a persistent need for autonomy and a highly sensitive nervous system that lives in fight, flight, freeze, or fawn.
Many traditional autism strategies?
They made things worse.
A visual schedule? → Another demand.
A behaviour chart? → More pressure.
Praise or reward? → Threat to autonomy.
Consequences? → Panic.
His meltdowns weren’t “behaviour”. They were panic attacks.
His aggression wasn’t intentional harm. It was terror.
His refusal wasn’t defiance. It was overwhelm.
When I finally allowed myself to see his meltdowns through that lens, the shame softened.
And the path forward became visible.
The Night Everything Changed
One night, after a brutal meltdown, I sat on his bedroom floor while he slept and thought:
What if he doesn’t need solutions?
What if he just needs me?
What if the pressure I’m adding — even unintentionally — is the thing keeping him stuck?
It was both confronting and liberating.
Because once I let in the truth, I could finally respond differently.
The Shift: From Fixing to Understanding
This was the shift that changed everything:
I stopped trying to fix the meltdown, and I focused on understanding the nervous system underneath it.
Instead of:
“What consequence will stop this next time?”
I asked:
“What is his behaviour telling me?”
Instead of:
“How do I get him to comply?”
I wondered:
“What overwhelmed him before we even started?”
Instead of:
“Why won’t he just do this?”
I shifted to:
“What if he can’t right now?”
This mindset shift wasn’t soft or permissive.
It was accurate.
The First Practical Change I Made
The very first change was simple:
I slowed everything down.
Because in our home, rushed energy equalled instant dysregulation.
So I stopped rushing the mornings.
I padded extra time into transitions.
I focused on softening my tone and my pace.
I prioritised connection instead of performance.
And within days… days… everything softened.
He became calmer.
We reconnected.
He let me join his play again.
He communicated more.
And his nervous system wasn’t bracing against mine anymore.
This wasn’t a miracle cure.
But it was the first step in a completely different direction.
Why Your Calm Matters (Even When It Feels Impossible)
Our children borrow our nervous system.
When theirs is overwhelmed, they look to ours for cues of safety.
If our internal state says:
“Panic, danger, I can’t handle this…”
their nervous system reads that instantly.
This doesn’t mean you must be endlessly calm.
You’re human. I’m human.
You will get overwhelmed, touched out, overstimulated, exhausted.
But the question becomes:
“How can I anchor myself enough that my child feels the safety of my presence?”
Sometimes that anchor is three deep breaths.
Sometimes it’s stepping outside for 30 seconds.
Sometimes it’s tagging out with a partner.
Co-regulation isn’t perfection.
It’s presence.
The Framework That Now Guides Everything
Here’s the simple framework that changed our home:
1. Regulate yourself first
A 30-second nervous system check-in is enough.
2. Slow the pace
Rushing is a trigger — not a character flaw.
3. Look for early warning signs
Meltdowns don’t come from nowhere; the “yellow zone” always shows up first.
4. Stay curious, not corrective
Replace “stop that” with “I notice you’re having a hard time.”
5. Meet the need beneath the behaviour
Because behaviour is communication, not manipulation.
You’re Not Failing — YouJust Need Different Tools
If nothing is working, it doesn’t mean your child is broken.
It means the approach needs to shift.
This is where connection-first parenting transforms everything — not just for your child, but for you.
And you don’t have to figure this out alone.
A Hopeful Ending
Your child isn’t asking you to be perfect.
They’re asking you to be present.
Even one small shift — one deeper breath, one slower morning, one moment of connection — can begin to change the entire rhythm of your home.
If you want to keep moving forward, I created something to help:
You deserve a home that feels calmer.
Your child deserves support that honours who they are.
Both are possible.
You’re doing beautifully.
More than you know.
