Regulating With Them, Not for Them

Here’s something I don’t say out loud enough:

Sometimes my children melt down — and I’m right there with them.

Not just emotionally present.

Actually melting down, too.

This is emotional dysregulation.

It’s not a flaw. It’s not weakness.

It’s what happens when a nervous system built like mine meets chaos, noise, and pressure… and can’t keep up.

The Myth of the Calm Parent

There’s a cultural script that tells us:

• “Stay calm and they’ll calm down.”
• “You’re the adult — you set the tone.”
• “Never let them see you lose control.”

That script?

It’s a lie — especially for neurodivergent parents raising neurodivergent kids.

Here’s my truth:

My nervous system doesn’t always let me be calm, even when I want to be.

I hit sensory capacity fast — especially after long days of decision fatigue and masking.

I can go from present to panicked in under 30 seconds.

And the hardest part?

My children often need co-regulation right when I have nothing left to give.

What I Say (When I Remember)

I’ve learned I don’t have to be perfect.

I just have to be honest — and safe.

When I feel myself slipping, these phrases help:

• “This is really hard. I feel overwhelmed, too.”
• “I get angry, too. Let’s find a way to work it out.”
• “Breathe with me.”
• “We’re both allowed to feel big feelings.”

Do I always say these in the moment?

Not even close.

But when I do, it helps.

I used to believe:

• I had to be the calm in the storm.
• My kid’s emotions were a test of my control.
• I was failing if I couldn’t stay zen.

Now I know:

Sitting in the storm together is often better than trying to control the weather.

I can co-regulate with them, even if I’m dysregulated.

Emotions aren’t dangerous — they’re just… loud.

Here’s what co-regulation looks like in our house:

• Breathing together (yes, even messy breaths)
• Going for a quiet walk
• Laying on the floor in silence listening to a body scan
• Saying “I’m here with you. Always.”

If You’ve Been There

If you’ve ever:

• Rasied you voice in response to their raised voice
• Locked yourself in the bathroom just to cry loudly pretending to take a shower
• Said “I can’t do this” and then did it anyway
• Cried next to your kid — not because of them, but because it’s just too much

Let me say this plainly:

You’re not a bad parent.

You’re a regulated-enough parent doing your best with a nervous system that wasn’t built for chaos.

That’s brave.

And that’s enough.

You’re doing better than you think you are.

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