Healing the Void: From CEN to Wholeness, A Psychological and Seasonal Journey

Category: Motherhood; Nurturing the Self While Nurturing Others

  • Living for Your Kids, Losing Yourself: A Deep Dive Into Maternal Emptiness and the Way Back + Free Journal

    “There’s this moment, every night. The house is finally quiet, but instead of sleeping, I scroll or wander or sit in silence. I’m exhausted. But I don’t want the day to end.”
    If this feels familiar, you’re not alone.

    Many mothers silently carry this weight — the ache of being surrounded yet feeling empty, needed constantly yet unsure who they are anymore.
    Underneath the exhaustion and overstimulation lies something deeper: a slow erosion of self, often unnoticed because you’ve been doing what “good mothers” are told to do — give everything.

    This article gently explores the deeper layers of this experience through psychological insight, embodied awareness, and healing steps. You’ll learn not only why you feel this way, but how to begin listening inward — not to abandon your role as a mother, but to come home to yourself within it.

    The Slow Disappearance of the Self: Naming the Dread

    There is a particular kind of emptiness that visits mothers — not at the dramatic breaking points, but in the quiet, cumulative erosion of self across countless unremarkable days.

    It often arrives like this:
    The children are finally asleep. The home is quiet. Your body aches for rest, but something deeper resists it. Instead, you scroll, clean something that could wait, or sit in silence unable to move. It feels like you should be doing something — anything — to reclaim your life before tomorrow takes it again.

    This is not laziness. This is the grief of self-abandonment.

    Throughout the day, you are in motion — feeding, dressing, cleaning, comforting, planning, rushing to playgrounds, saying “just a minute” a hundred times, and collapsing into bed with the sense that nothing truly touched you. The confusion you carry isn’t from doing too little — it’s from doing too much that doesn’t anchor you in your own soul.

    You may like the fresh air. You may treasure your children. But somewhere inside, you know this isn’t how you were meant to live: suspended in a state of constant attending, where you are the container for everyone else’s needs and yet have no place to pour your own fullness into being.

    And still — despite the exhaustion — you feel guilty for wanting something more.

    This ache isn’t just about logistics. It’s psychological. Existential.
    And, for many women, historical.

    If you were raised in an environment where your own needs were dismissed, ignored, or punished — especially emotional or psychological needs — you may now find yourself compensating. You may vow that your children will never feel invisible, lonely, or emotionally deprived. And so, without realizing it, you begin to over-correct. You give endlessly. You believe full presence is the only antidote to what you lacked.

    But now, you’re disappearing in the process.

    What if the presence your children need includes your presence to yourself?
    What if modeling wholeness — rather than martyrdom — is what anchors them?

    Let’s pause here.
    Not to solve this yet.
    But to name it. To let it breathe.
    To recognize the ache not as failure — but as a signal:

    You are longing to come home to yourself.

    The Shame of Wanting More—And Why It’s Not Selfish

    There is a quiet ache that sits in your chest as you stir oatmeal, zip tiny jackets, answer questions before you’ve even thought your own thoughts. It’s not because you don’t love them. It’s because you are not in the room with yourself.

    And when the ache becomes a request—“Can I just rest? Can I be alone for a while?”—the shame floods in:
    “How could I want space from my own children?”
    “Other mothers do more without complaining.”
    “I should be grateful.”

    Let’s pause here. This shame is not proof of selfishness.
    It’s a scar from something deeper.

    How Emotional Neglect Shapes a Mother’s Guilt

    If you grew up in a home where your emotional needs weren’t noticed, you likely developed one of two strategies:

    • You became selfless to survive. You learned that being “easy” and never asking for too much kept you safe.
    • You became hyper-attuned to others. You overcompensated for the absence of nurture by becoming nurturing to everyone but yourself.

    Now, as a mother, you’re trying to give your children everything you didn’t get. That’s deeply beautiful—and deeply exhausting. Because you’re doing it alone. And because you’re trying to mother two children at once: your own kids, and the child you once were.

    Why This Longing Isn’t Selfish—It’s a Vital Sign

    The longing for solitude, for expression, for rest, for yourself—it’s not weakness. It’s a sign of aliveness.

    Imagine a plant turning toward the sun. Would you call that selfish? Or would you understand that light is necessary to thrive?

    It’s the same for you.

    Your desire:

    • To finish a thought
    • To drink a cup of tea before it cools
    • To read something that makes you feel something
    • To start a new project that fills you with excitement

    …isn’t excess. It’s oxygen. It’s proof that you’re still here, beneath the roles and routines.

    The Lie of the “Good Mother” and the Power of the Real One

    Culture sells us the myth of the ever-available, ever-smiling mother whose fulfillment comes only from giving. But real motherhood is more nuanced—and more powerful.

    • A real mother gets tired.
    • A real mother sometimes fantasizes about running away.
    • A real mother knows love and depletion can coexist.

    And the most courageous mothers are the ones who stop the cycle—who say, “My needs matter, too,” not just for their own survival, but to model wholeness for their children.

    Try This: Reframing the Longing

    Let’s rewrite your internal script. Try finishing these journal prompts:

    • “When I feel ashamed for wanting time alone, what I really need is…”
    • “If my child grew up and treated themselves the way I treat myself now, I’d tell them…”
    • “I believe a good mother is someone who…” (complete honestly, then reframe it)

    A Truth to Carry With You

    Wanting more for yourself doesn’t mean you love your children less.
    It means you’re ready to mother from fullness—not from depletion.
    And that is the most sacred kind of motherhood.

    From Confusion to Clarity — Recognizing Your Needs Amid the Noise

    There’s a particular kind of confusion that doesn’t come from lack of intelligence or intention—it comes from disconnection. From waking up every day and responding instead of choosing. From being needed every moment, yet rarely asked: “But what do you need?”

    This confusion isn’t random. It’s what happens when the rhythm of your life has been tuned to others for so long, your own inner music feels far away.

    But underneath the static, your needs are still there—quiet, pulsing, waiting.

    Why the Confusion Is Protective

    At first, the fog seems like the enemy. But sometimes, confusion protects us from truths we don’t yet feel safe to face:

    • “I don’t like how I spend my days.”
    • “I’m lonely.”
    • “I’ve lost parts of myself I really miss.”

    Facing these can feel like betrayal—of the life you chose, of the children you love. So your brain muffles the signals. You go through the motions. You scroll. You snack. You sigh and press on.

    That’s not weakness. That’s a nervous system trying to keep you from falling apart.

    But you don’t have to fall apart to hear yourself again.

    Rebuilding the Connection: What Are Your Core Needs Right Now?

    Your needs may not be grand or poetic. They may be simple and body-based. That’s where we begin. Ask yourself gently:

    • What makes me feel human again, even briefly?
    • What restores me—a warm shower, a moment of silence, a slow walk, something beautiful?
    • What kind of presence do I crave—quiet, playful, focused, creative?

    You don’t need a perfect answer. Just a crack of light.

    An Exercise: The Daily Pause

    Try this each day for a week:

    1. At any point (nap time, bedtime, early morning), pause and place a hand on your heart.
    2. Ask: What do I feel? (no fixing, no judgment)
    3. Ask: What do I need?
    4. Then whisper this truth: “My needs matter. I am still here.”

    If all you get is a whisper of “I’m tired” or “I want to be alone,” that’s enough. It’s the beginning of knowing yourself again.

    A Gentle Reminder

    Clarity isn’t lightning. It’s a candle you relight every day.

    The goal isn’t to figure everything out—it’s to remember you exist, and that your life gets to feel like yours, too.

    Small Ways to Return to Yourself—Even in a Life That Isn’t Slowing Down

    Sometimes, advice about self-care feels like a cruel joke.

    “Take a long bath.”
    “Go on a retreat.”
    “Just wake up earlier.”

    As if the overwhelm could be solved by a scented candle or a 4 a.m. alarm. As if your exhaustion was optional. As if your devotion to your children was the problem.

    But what if the real path isn’t escape—it’s weaving yourself back in, slowly, gently, even in the middle of it all?

    The Myth of Big Fixes

    You may be waiting for the perfect moment—the nap schedule that works, the extra income, the miraculous burst of energy—to finally begin tending to yourself. But the longer you wait for a better setup, the more invisible you become to yourself.

    Healing begins not in perfect circumstances, but in imperfect choices made anyway.

    So we start small.

    Tiny Rituals That Keep You Close to Yourself

    These are not chores. They are returns—each a tether to your deeper self:

    • A warm drink alone by the window before they wake up. Or perhaps while they are playing on their own. Even 5 minutes counts.
    • Cooking one meal a week that’s for your soul, not just the household. Use your favorite herbs. Choose beauty.
    • Wearing clothes that make you feel like you, not just practical mom-uniforms. Even if you’re only headed to the park.
    • Taking a photo of something beautiful each day. A wildflower. Your child’s toes. Your own reflection.
    • Listening to a voice you love while doing dishes or tidying up before breakfast.A podcast that reminds you you’re still thinking, growing, alive.

    Each of these is a thread. Together, they stitch a life that includes you.

    A Grounding Exercise: The “Tiny Joy” Scan

    Each evening, before you collapse into bed, pause.

    Ask:

    • Did anything make me smile today?
    • What moment felt even slightly like mine?
    • If I could add one more minute just for myself, what would it be?

    Write it down if you can. Or just whisper it. It counts.

    Reframing “Selfish”

    There is a quiet fear that doing this means loving your children less. That tending to yourself is indulgence.

    But it’s not.

    It is what makes presence possible. It is how you model aliveness. And one day, your children will not remember whether the laundry was folded right away. But they will remember your spirit—whether it was dimmed or lit.

    Healing the Guilt—Why Your Needs Aren’t a Threat to Your Child’s Emotional Life

    Guilt is often a signal of care. But in the life of a mother who was once a neglected child, guilt becomes something else: a shadow that follows her every decision, whispering that anything for herself might mean less for her child.

    You’re not just a mother trying to be good.
    You’re a woman trying to undo what was done to her.
    And that deserves reverence—not shame.

    The Inner Contract You Didn’t Know You Made

    Children who were emotionally neglected often grow up vowing, silently and without awareness:
    “When I have children, they will never feel invisible the way I did.”

    And it’s beautiful. It’s sacred.

    But it’s also a double-bind. Because in protecting your child from what you lacked, you may accidentally recreate the same invisibility—within yourself.

    And that’s not sustainable. Nor is it what your child truly needs.

    What Your Child Actually Needs (and Doesn’t)

    Let’s clarify something radical:

    Your child does not need:

    • Constant attention.
    • A permanently cheerful mother.
    • A playmate at every moment.

    Your child does need:

    • A caregiver with presence, not performance.
    • A model of self-respect and wholeness.
    • A safe relationship that allows for separation and connection.

    When you tend to yourself—honestly, lovingly, imperfectly—you’re not abandoning your child. You’re anchoring both of you.

    Your Needs Aren’t Selfish—They’re Instruction

    Think of what you wish someone had taught you:
    That your feelings mattered. That alone time was allowed. That rest was a right.

    Now imagine teaching that—not with words, but with actions.

    Your needs aren’t just valid. They are the curriculum your child will someday live by.

    Try This Reframe: The “Mother-to-Inner-Child Letter”

    Write a short letter—not to your child, but to your inner child. Let her know:

    • You’re not punishing her by resting.
    • You are breaking the cycle by choosing balance.
    • She is safe even when things are not perfect.

    This re-centers your choices—not as threats to your child, but as acts of healing lineage.

    Rebuilding a Rhythm That Leaves Room for You

    This is not about overhauling your life overnight.
    It’s about realigning your days so they nourish you, not just drain you.
    Motherhood is not a sprint of martyrdom. It’s a long walk—and you’re allowed to sit down.

    From Surviving to Flowing

    Many mothers live in survival mode:
    Get up. Feed. Clean. Run. Entertain. Cook. Collapse.

    But a sustainable rhythm isn’t about doing less, necessarily.
    It’s about placing your energy where it can flow back to you, not just leak away.

    Ask:

    • When do I feel most alive during the day?
    • What drains me more than it should?
    • Is there a 10-minute window I could reclaim?

    Small recalibrations are where real change begins.

    Energy Mapping: A Gentle Practice

    Try this once a week:

    1. Sketch a simple timeline of your day.
    2. Mark moments of:
      • Energy gain (G)
      • Energy loss (L)
      • Neutral (N)
    3. Reflect: Where might you gently shift even one “L” to a “G”?

    Example:
    Instead of playground + overstimulation = Loss,
    try nature walk with podcast = Gain.

    This isn’t selfish. It’s strategy.

    Create Anchors, Not Just Schedules

    Most of us try to organize our days with rigid schedules. But rhythms work better with anchors—simple, repeatable practices that tether you to yourself.

    Try one or two of these:

    • Morning breath + warm drink before engaging with anyone.
    • A short walk alone after lunch or before dinner while someone else watches the kids.
    • A 5-minute journaling ritual at the end of the day.

    You don’t need an hour. You need a thread.

    Co-Regulation Is for You, Too

    You’ve probably read about co-regulation for children—the way your nervous system helps calm theirs.

    But did you know you need it too?

    Build small rituals of connection with others:

    • A short daily message to a friend who “gets it.”
    • Asking your partner to hold the fort for 20 minutes each evening.
    • A weekly voice note exchange with another mother.

    You’re not meant to self-regulate in isolation. You’re allowed to lean.

    Letting the Dread Speak: A Quiet Revolution Begins

    That emptiness you feel at night—the resistance to rest, the heaviness of a day poured into others—it’s not laziness or failure.
    It’s grief.
    Grief for the parts of you that are being crowded out of your own life.

    But grief, when listened to, becomes a guide.
    It says: Something vital needs attention.

    Let the Dread Be a Messenger, Not a Judge

    Dread is often misunderstood.
    It’s not just fear—it’s a signal that your inner self is not being met.

    When you sit with the discomfort instead of rushing past it, you might hear:

    • I miss the version of me who had ideas and quiet thoughts.
    • I want to laugh again without multitasking.
    • I’m afraid I’ll disappear into the role of “mother” and never come back.

    These are not selfish thoughts.
    They are the beginnings of your return to yourself.

    A Quiet Revolution Doesn’t Happen on the Surface

    You don’t have to throw everything out.
    You don’t have to move to a cabin in the woods.

    But you do have to decide that your life matters now, not someday.

    Let this be your quiet revolution:

    • Say no to one thing a week that depletes you.
    • Say yes to one 5-minute ritual that restores you.
    • Let your children see you resting, reading, breathing—being.

    That’s a lesson worth teaching.

    Rewriting the End of Your Day

    What if the end of your day didn’t feel like collapse, but completion?

    Try this:

    • Sit down with a warm drink.
    • Light a candle or dim a light.
    • Write down one moment when you felt like yourself today.
    • Even if it was 10 seconds long.
    • Say “thank you” to the part of you that noticed.

    This is how you begin again.
    Not by doing more.
    But by listening more deeply.

    A Final Word

    You are not here just to be useful.
    You are here to be whole.

    And wholeness doesn’t arrive all at once—it comes quietly, reclaiming one piece of you at a time.

    You’re not failing.
    You’re awakening.

    Download my Free Journal to Begin Your Return to Self

    Ready to reclaim small moments of selfhood, even in the midst of motherhood? Download my guided journal “The Mother Within: A Quiet Return to Self” — a gentle space for reflection, reconnection, and honoring your needs. It’s your, completely for free, no email required.

    Download now

    If this article resonated with you, please consider:

    • Sharing it with a fellow mother who might need these words today.
    • Leaving a comment — we’d love to hear your story or the small ways you’re making space for yourself.

    Your voice matters. Your experience is valid. And your healing can begin now.

  • Becoming the Parent You Needed: Healing the Mother-Daughter Dynamic (+free journal)

    A Shock to the Heart

    “You can’t go on believing you’re a good person once you have a child.”
    — Lisa Marchiano

    You were the gentle one. The one who promised to do better.
    You read the books, listened to the podcasts, unpacked your childhood, and swore that you’d never pass down the pain. Not like that. Not to her.

    And yet, there you are again—your voice rising, your breath shallow, your daughter in tears over the wrong color cup or shoes she refuses to wear. You say something sharp, too sharp. The moment passes, but the shame sits heavy in your chest. You snap, she crumples, and you’re left in the ruins of a moment you never meant to create.

    Why does mothering a daughter—this particular relationship—hurt so much sometimes?

    We don’t talk enough about the paradox of motherhood: how a child can be both beloved and unbearable in the same breath. How we can adore them and still feel overcome with irritation, even rage. And no one talks about how our daughters, especially, have a way of cutting deep—not because of anything they’ve done, but because of everything they awaken.

    This article is for the mother who sees herself in her daughter and flinches.
    Who wants to run from the mirror this relationship becomes.
    Who keeps trying to fix what feels broken inside so she can love more freely, but keeps getting pulled under by her own pain.

    You are not alone.
    You are not a monster.
    You are not failing.

    You are being invited—through every messy, overwhelming moment—to step into a deeper healing than you ever imagined. This isn’t about becoming the perfect mother. It’s about becoming the whole one.

    Why Mothering a Daughter Hits Different

    There’s something particular, piercing, and unrelenting about raising a daughter.

    It’s not just the ordinary fatigue of parenthood. It’s not just the emotional labor or the sleep deprivation or the constant mental load. Those things matter, but this is different. This is personal. And often, painfully so.

    The Daughter as a Mirror

    Many mothers report a strange experience early in their daughter’s life—something like déjà vu. A moment where your daughter’s tantrum, sadness, or play reminds you of your own long-buried memories. It can feel almost out of body. She is her, but she is also somehow you.

    And so, when she cries and you feel a surge of rage…
    When she is needy and your skin crawls…
    When she asks for more than you feel capable of giving…
    It’s not just her voice echoing in the room—it’s the ghost of your own unmet needs, pushing forward from your past.

    When You Were Controlled—And Now React With Control

    If your mother was controlling, emotionally volatile, or treated your autonomy as a threat, you may have grown up in a space where it was never safe to be fully yourself. You may have learned to anticipate her moods, silence your own, and walk on eggshells to avoid punishment or withdrawal.

    And now—your own daughter pulls at you with the full force of her will. She resists. She says no. She takes up space—loudly, persistently, endlessly.

    This awakens a complex cocktail of feelings:

    • You feel small again, as though the power is being used against you.
    • You feel invisible again, even while someone is in your face.
    • You feel trapped, helpless, and powerless.

    And because we are often most reactive when we feel powerless, you might find yourself snapping, yelling, or controlling—not because you\’re cruel, but because your body and nervous system are screaming, “Get control or you’ll disappear again.”

    It’s devastating to recognize:
    “I became the very force I once feared.”
    “I feel the same rage she did.”
    “I use the same tone I swore I’d never use.”

    And yet—this recognition is the beginning of healing. It doesn’t make you bad. It makes you brave. These patterns run deep. And only now, as they rise to the surface in the sacred, demanding space of motherhood, do you finally have the chance to interrupt them.

    Psychological frameworks help illuminate this:

    • Attachment Theory shows us that how we were soothed (or not) as children shapes how we respond to distress—our children’s and our own. If we didn’t receive co-regulation, our nervous system may panic when our child is dysregulated.
    • IFS (Internal Family Systems) helps explain why you might go from powerless to controlling in a flash. The “exiled” part—your inner child who had no power—gets triggered. Then a “protector” part jumps in with aggression to defend you from the pain of powerlessness. These parts aren’t bad. They’re trying to help. But they’re trapped in an old story.
    • Gestalt Therapy highlights how unfinished emotional business resurfaces in present-day relationships. In Gestalt terms, your daughter reactivates a “cycle of experience” that was never completed: the grief, rage, or longing you weren’t allowed to feel or express in your own childhood.

    And if you were the daughter of a mother who dismissed, controlled, competed with, or leaned too heavily on you emotionally, the waters are even murkier. You might find yourself reacting to your daughter as though she is the mother who wounded you, even while she’s just being her vibrant, demanding toddler or intense preteen self.

    The Archetypal Weight

    From a Jungian perspective, the mother-daughter relationship carries archetypal power. The “Mother” isn’t just a person—it’s a universal pattern. And so is “The Daughter.” These archetypes interact within us and between us, amplifying emotion and expectation.

    In this lens, the daughter represents the emerging feminine within the mother—a part of herself that perhaps never got to fully live. She may symbolize the freedom you never had, the voice you were told to quiet, or the sensitivity you learned to suppress.

    That’s why it can feel unbearable when your daughter insists, interrupts, whines, or refuses to comply. It’s not just that she’s being a child. It’s that she’s activating something sacred and suppressed in you. And your reaction may be fiercer than the moment deserves—not because you’re cruel, but because the buried pain is that deep.

    This doesn’t mean you’re doomed to repeat the cycle. But it does mean that the triggers are real, ancient, and sacred—and deserve tenderness, not shame.

    How Our Daughters Awaken Our Wounds

    There’s a particular edge to being triggered by your daughter that is hard to explain until you’ve felt it.

    It’s not just that she’s having a tantrum.
    It’s not just that she’s needy, again.
    It’s the meaning your nervous system assigns to it. The old scripts it revives. The way her very being seems to shine a light into the parts of you that were never allowed to exist.

    A Threat to the Survival Strategy

    If, as a child, you learned to survive by pleasing, appeasing, or disappearing, then your daughter’s bold “NO!” isn’t just inconvenient. It’s dangerous. Not literally—but symbolically.

    It challenges the very pattern that once kept you safe.
    Her loudness threatens the internal rule that says, “It’s not safe to be too much.”
    Her tears challenge your inherited belief: “My emotions are a burden.”
    Her anger pokes at your deeply embedded shame: “If I express myself, I’ll be rejected.”

    She is not misbehaving.
    She is living.
    But for the wounded parts of you, her self-expression can feel like rebellion, even betrayal.

    A Mirror of What Wasn’t Allowed

    A daughter’s joy, rage, silliness, wildness, and need for attention can stir deep envy in a mother who wasn’t permitted to have those things.

    And that envy might show up as irritation, distance, or even rejection.

    Not because the mother doesn’t love her daughter—but because love is complicated when the child is expressing what the mother had to silence in herself.

    This is especially true when the daughter is close in temperament or personality—when her laugh sounds like yours, when her interests mirror your own childhood dreams, when her moods mimic your old vulnerabilities.

    Suddenly, she’s not just her anymore—she’s a reflection of you, reawakening everything you had to suppress.

    A Fight Between Parts of the Self

    In IFS terms, your daughter triggers exiled parts—wounded, banished pieces of yourself that hold trauma, pain, longing, and unmet needs. These parts resurface with intensity when she does something that reawakens the old wound.

    And then, to manage the flood of vulnerability, a protector part might swoop in:

    • The harsh voice (“Why are you like this?”)
    • The icy withdrawal (“I need to be alone.”)
    • The control (“Do it my way or no way.”)

    This reaction isn’t you at your core. It’s a part trying to manage pain. It doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means the pain has surfaced enough to be seen.

    The Body Remembers

    In somatic therapy, we understand that trauma is stored in the body—not just in memory. When your child’s behavior brings up old experiences of powerlessness, shame, or neglect, your body may react before your brain can interpret what’s happening.

    You might notice:

    • A jolt of rage before you understand why.
    • Shallow breath and clenched fists.
    • A sudden urge to yell, leave the room, or cry.

    These are trauma responses—not moral failures.

    Stillness, breath, grounding, and movement can help your nervous system come back into the present. But first, the body needs to be allowed to speak.

    The Attachment Wound Reactivated

    If you didn’t feel emotionally safe or consistently seen by your own mother, you may carry an attachment wound—one that becomes reactivated when your daughter’s needs stretch you past your current limits.

    You may think:

    • “I don’t know how to be there for her because no one was there for me.”
    • “I want to meet her needs, but mine are screaming too.”
    • “I feel guilty for resenting her.”

    And all of this can brew into shame. A mother’s shame that she’s failing at the most important relationship of her life. But this isn’t a sign of failure—it’s a sign of healing in motion. You are walking a path no one walked with you.

    The AEDP Frame: A Portal to Healing

    Accelerated Experiential Dynamic Psychotherapy (AEDP) views intense emotion not as a problem to be managed, but as a portal to transformation—if we are met with compassion, safety, and attunement.

    Your daughter’s presence gives you a profound gift: the chance to re-experience emotion that was once too big, too scary, too unwelcomed—and to move through it differently.

    This time, you get to stay. You get to witness. You get to soften.

    You may have lacked a compassionate other as a child. But now, you can begin to become that for yourself, and for her.

    The Cycle Breaker’s Guilt — Wanting Space, Feeling Shame

    There is a deep, often unspoken ache in many mothers who are trying to do things differently than what they received.

    You might have come into motherhood with fierce vows:
    “I’ll never scream like my mother did.”
    “I’ll always be there when my daughter needs me.”
    “I will raise her to feel free, loved, safe.”

    But then, the long days stack up. Your child’s voice pierces the quiet. You haven’t had a moment alone, or even a thought uninterrupted. Your nervous system is threadbare. And the very child you longed to nurture becomes the one you want distance from.

    And in that moment, a wave of guilt crashes in:

    • “What kind of mother needs a break from her child?”
    • “Why am I so irritated by the person I love most?”
    • “Am I becoming her—the mother I swore I wouldn’t be?”

    This is the pain of the cycle breaker: the person trying to parent with presence, gentleness, and attunement—while also carrying the weight of intergenerational trauma, emotional exhaustion, and a history of unmet needs.

    The Need for Space Isn’t a Sign of Failure

    One of the most radical truths in healing work is this: Needing space does not mean you’re failing.
    It means you are human.

    You may carry an internalized belief that being a “good mother” means constant self-sacrifice. That your needs are secondary. That if you were truly healed, you would never feel rage, irritation, or the urge to escape.

    But in truth:

    • Your nervous system needs cycles of expansion and contraction.
    • Your soul needs solitude to regulate and restore.
    • Your identity needs room to breathe outside of the mother role.

    You cannot pour from an empty well. And your child does not benefit from a mother who is constantly running on fumes.

    IFS Perspective: Parts in Conflict

    In Internal Family Systems, the tension you feel between craving space and feeling shame can be seen as a conflict between parts:

    • One part longs for rest, silence, a break from responsibility.
    • Another part shames that longing, whispering, “You’re selfish. She needs you.”
    • And yet another part might rise in defense, snapping or withdrawing to create space by force.

    The key is not to “fix” these parts, but to listen to them. Each one developed for a reason. Each one holds wisdom. What if the part that wants space is not bad—but just exhausted?

    What if, instead of judging her, you offered her compassion?

    Somatic Clues: The Body’s Boundary Cry

    Your body often knows long before your mind does that you need space. But if you weren’t allowed healthy boundaries as a child, your body’s cry for space may feel foreign or threatening.

    • Tension in your jaw or shoulders
    • A racing heart when your child touches you again
    • A desire to flee the room or go numb

    These are not signs of disconnection from your child. They are signs that your body needs to reconnect with itself.

    Stillness, grounding, and boundary rituals can help you stay with your body’s signals before they turn into explosions.

    The Jungian Frame: The Shadow Mother

    Carl Jung spoke of the shadow—the parts of us that are disowned, buried, or denied. When we idealize motherhood as only nurturing, soft, and selfless, we cast every other part of the mother—rage, boredom, resentment—into the shadow.

    But the more we deny those parts, the more powerfully they erupt.

    Your anger, your need for space, your overwhelm—these are not signs of moral failure. They are signs of your wholeness.

    In reclaiming your “shadow mother,” you become more integrated. More real. More available to your child—not as a perfect image, but as a full human being.

    AEDP: Transforming Shame Through Compassion

    In AEDP, we understand that shame thrives in isolation but softens in connection.

    When your shame is met with empathy—whether from a therapist, a friend, or your own inner voice—it begins to transform. Instead of shutting down, you open. Instead of hiding, you integrate.

    Imagine offering yourself the words you longed to hear:

    “Of course you’re overwhelmed. This is hard. And you are still good.”
    “You need space, and you still love her deeply.”
    “You’re growing, even when it’s messy.”

    This is how the cycle begins to shift—not through perfection, but through presence with what is.

    Becoming the Mother You Longed For — To Her, and to Yourself

    One of the most profound truths in conscious mothering is this:

    You’re not just raising your daughter.
    You’re also re-raising the child inside you.

    And these two processes—parenting outward and parenting inward—are deeply interwoven.

    You might notice this in the quiet moments:
    When you soothe your child with words you never heard.
    When you kneel to meet her eyes instead of towering over her.
    When you pause and breathe instead of shouting.

    These are not just parenting strategies.
    They are acts of healing—echoing into your own nervous system, your own past, your own unmet needs.

    But to sustain this healing, especially when you’re overwhelmed or triggered, you need a framework of both practical tools and emotional reparenting. Let’s break this down.

    1. Reparenting Yourself in Real Time

    When your daughter whines, demands, or pushes your buttons, you’re not just responding to her.
    You’re also responding to something older—a memory, a wound, a moment when you felt helpless or invisible or afraid.

    Here are micro-moments of reparenting you can practice in the thick of everyday life:

    • Touch your own chest when you feel your tone rising. Whisper silently:“It’s okay, love. I’m here now. You’re not alone with this feeling.”
    • Give yourself permission to want space without guilt. Affirm:“My need for solitude doesn’t mean I’m abandoning her. It means I’m honoring myself.”
    • Repair without shame. If you snap or shut down, go back and gently say:“I’m sorry I spoke harshly. I got overwhelmed, but it wasn’t your fault. You’re safe with me.”

    Every one of these actions is a message to both your daughter and your inner child:
    You matter. You’re safe. We’re learning together.

    2. Creating Rituals of Self-Attunement

    Being the mother you longed for doesn’t mean never struggling.
    It means learning how to recognize your own signals—before they overflow.

    Here are simple daily rituals that support this process:

    • Morning intention (2 minutes): Before the day begins, place a hand on your heart and ask:“What do I need most today to feel steady?” Write it down. Let it guide small decisions.
    • Transition rituals (between tasks or rooms):
      Before moving from work to parenting, or dishes to bedtime, pause for one breath. You can touch a small grounding object (stone, oil, scarf), and remind yourself:“I don’t have to rush. I can move from presence, not pressure.”
    • Evening self-holding (5 minutes):
      Sit or lie down, arms wrapped around yourself. Whisper inwardly:“You showed up today. I saw how hard you tried. You’re not failing—you’re healing.”

    These small acts are like drops in a well.
    Over time, they replenish the deep reserve of presence you offer to your child.

    3. Teaching Your Daughter by Living the Truth

    Your daughter learns more from your embodied self-compassion than from any script.
    When she sees you pause before reacting… ask for what you need… apologize sincerely… or say, “I need a moment to breathe”—she learns that being human is not shameful.

    She learns that love includes limits.
    That presence is not perfection.
    That repair is possible.

    And maybe, just maybe, she’ll grow up without the need to unlearn so much of what you’ve had to.

    The Power of Repair: What To Do When You React Like Your Mother

    There will be moments when you hear her voice in your own.
    When the words slip out before you can stop them.
    When your daughter flinches or shuts down, and you feel the sting of recognition—because you know that look. You wore it once.

    And in that moment, the pain is twofold:
    The grief of having repeated what hurt you…
    And the shame of having hurt someone you love more than anything.

    But let this truth soften your chest:

    It’s not the rupture that defines the relationship.
    It’s what happens next.

    1. What Healing Looks Like: From Reaction to Repair

    Parenting from a wound doesn’t mean you’re a bad mother.
    It means you’re still in the process of healing—and that healing can continue inside your parenting, if you let it.

    Here’s a gentle, step-by-step path:

    1. Pause the inner critic.
      The voice that says “You’re just like her” or “You’ve ruined everything” isn’t the truth.
      It’s a part of you that’s afraid.
      You can respond:“I hear you. You’re scared I’m becoming the mother I had. But I’m not the same. I can choose differently now.”
    2. Ground in your body.
      Feel your feet. Place a hand on your belly or heart. Breathe slowly.“I’m safe. She’s safe. I can reconnect.”
    3. Approach your child softly.
      Eye level. Gentle tone. Open palms. You can say:“I’m really sorry. I got angry and I raised my voice. That must have felt scary. You didn’t deserve that. I love you, and I want to be gentle with you.”
    4. Welcome her feelings, even if they’re about you.
      If she cries, hides, or says “I don’t like you,” hold space without defensiveness.“It’s okay to feel mad or sad. I’m listening. I’m here.”
    5. Repair with your inner child, too.
      Later, speak to the little girl inside you:“I know that used to happen to you, and no one came to say sorry. But I’m here now. I see how hard you’re trying. You’re becoming someone new.”

    This is what makes you different.
    Not that you never lose your temper—but that you know how to come back. At the end of this article you can download my free journaling guide “After the Storm: A Journal for Mothers Who Want to Repair”.

    2. Using IFS to Understand the “Reactive Part”

    Through the lens of Internal Family Systems (IFS), we understand that the part of you who lashes out isn’t the whole of you.
    She’s just one part—usually a protector, trying to keep you from feeling overwhelmed, helpless, or unseen (like you did as a child).

    Instead of shaming her, you can get curious:

    • “What are you afraid will happen if I don’t yell?”
    • “When did you first learn to protect me this way?”
    • “Would you be willing to let me respond from a calmer place next time?”

    When your protector parts feel heard, they soften.
    And your true Self—the wise, calm, loving inner parent—can step forward more often.

    3. Healing Is the New Legacy

    Every repair moment is a stitch in the fabric of trust.
    And over time, your child internalizes this truth:
    “Even when we mess up, love brings us back.”

    More importantly, you internalize this, too.

    You become not just a cycle-breaker, but a gentle witness to your own growth.
    You begin to trust yourself. To forgive the moments of rupture.
    To find grace in the mess.

    Because healing doesn’t mean never breaking.
    It means learning how to come back together.

    Redefining Power — Shifting from Control to Connection

    There comes a moment on the healing path—especially for daughters of controlling mothers—when we see ourselves doing what we swore we never would. The flash of anger, the loud voice, the sharp command. And suddenly, we’re not just trying to raise a child—we’re trying to escape a legacy.

    But here’s the truth: what you’re feeling in that moment is not power. It’s panic dressed up as control.

    The Illusion of Control

    Control offers a false sense of safety. It tells us that if we can just make everything go right, if our child can just behave, then we won’t have to feel the ache of powerlessness. But that’s not parenting. That’s fear management.

    When we were children, the authority in our home often felt like domination. Obedience was mistaken for respect. And power was used to silence, not to support.

    So, as adults, we associate parental power with something dangerous or shameful. We either:

    • Overcorrect by becoming passive, permissive, and over-accommodating
    • Or unconsciously repeat the old model by using fear or control when we feel threatened or overwhelmed

    Neither of these are true power.

    What Is True Power in Parenthood?

    True power is presence.
    It’s the ability to hold space for intensity—your child’s and your own—without losing connection.
    It’s setting a boundary with love instead of fear.
    It’s choosing to pause when your nervous system screams “control!”

    This is relational power. And it’s built on five core capacities:

    1. Self-awareness:
      Recognizing when you\’re in survival mode. Naming your triggers. Noticing when the old scripts are playing out.
    2. Emotional tolerance:
      Increasing your window of tolerance so that your child’s chaos doesn’t become your chaos. So that their big feelings don’t awaken your inner child’s panic.
    3. Repair after rupture:
      Power is not in never yelling—it’s in knowing how to come back with humility and love.
    4. Internal boundaries:
      Choosing not to act from the voice of the wounded inner child. Learning to say, “Not this time.”
    5. Trust in the relationship:
      Believing that your child is not your adversary. That misbehavior is communication. That connection is more powerful than control.

    How Do We Build This Kind of Power?

    1. Rewire the pause:
    Start noticing what happens before you react. What does your body feel like when you’re on the verge of snapping? What do you believe in that moment (about your child, or about yourself)?
    Practice creating micro-pauses—a deep breath, a grounding touch to your chest, a whispered affirmation: “This isn’t an emergency.”

    2. Work with the part of you that fears powerlessness:
    Using Internal Family Systems (IFS), you might meet a part of you that hates feeling helpless. Maybe she grew up in chaos. Maybe she was never allowed to have needs. She learned that control was her only protection.
    When you meet her with compassion, she doesn’t have to take over anymore.

    3. Learn rupture and repair as a sacred rhythm:
    Don’t aim to avoid all conflict. Learn to ride the waves. When rupture happens (because it will), guide yourself through a conscious repair. Speak the truth. Validate both of your experiences. Let love be spoken out loud. This builds resilience—in your child and in you.

    4. Study your nervous system, not just your behavior:
    Your triggers are stored in your body. Learn what brings you back to regulation. This might include somatic tracking (from Somatic Experiencing), grounding touch, orienting your senses, or movement. Create a “reconnection toolkit” for when you\’re dysregulated.

    5. Shift the meaning of power:
    If your definition of a “good mother” includes being perfectly calm and selfless, you will always feel like you’re failing. Instead, root into this new definition:

    “A powerful mother is not one who never breaks.
    She is one who learns how to gather the pieces and grow stronger in love.”

    Integration and Final Thoughts — Becoming the Mother You Longed For

    There is no greater spiritual initiation than parenting. It cracks us open in places we didn’t know were wounded. It reveals both the depth of our love and the depth of our pain.

    If you are here, reading these words, it means you\’re doing the brave work of not passing the pain forward. You\’re not pretending the past didn’t shape you. You are daring to hold your child and your inner child in the same breath.

    And that is nothing short of sacred.

    You do not need to be perfect. You need to be present, willing, and humble enough to keep showing up. When you fall into old patterns—because you will—what matters most is how you return.

    Let this be your quiet revolution:

    • To pause instead of punish.
    • To repair instead of retreat.
    • To reconnect when you feel like running away.
    • To speak truth and tenderness in the same sentence.

    You\’re not just raising a child.
    You\’re raising yourself.
    You\’re becoming the mother you needed.
    And in doing so, you\’re reshaping the lineage.

    Download My Free Journal For A Gentle Step Toward Repair

    After a hard moment with your child—whether you shouted, shut down, or acted out a pattern you swore you’d never repeat—it’s not too late.

    You\’re invited to download my free guided journal:
    “After the Storm: A Journal for Mothers Who Want to Repair”
    Inside, you\’ll find:

    • Gentle prompts to process what happened
    • Simple tools to calm your nervous system
    • Language for reconnecting after a rupture
    • A space to reconnect with compassion—for your child and yourself

    Let this be your quiet return.

    Download for free

    Explore further:

    🥰The Rewards of Motherhood: Finding Meaning, Growth, and Everyday Magic

    🌒The Unexpected Challenges of Motherhood: A Dark Night of the Soul

    🧘‍♀️Restorative Yoga for Deep Healing: How to Use Stillness to Rewire Your Nervous System

  • Why I Use a Tupperware Instead of a Wet Bag for Cloth Diapers—and Why It Works

    Cloth diapering often comes with a checklist: specific brands, the right folds, the best liners—and, of course, the trusty wet bag for outings. It’s part of the “gear” that everyone seems to recommend. But early on, I looked at those pretty patterned bags and thought, Do I really need this?

    Years later, I’m still cloth diapering—without ever having owned a wet bag. Instead, I use a simple Tupperware container. It’s not trendy or cute, but it’s practical, reliable, and completely aligned with my zero-waste values. And to be honest? It works better than many of the so-called essentials.

    This post isn’t meant to be prescriptive—just a peek into a system that’s worked for our family for years. If you’re looking for a sustainable, no-fuss way to manage cloth diapers while out and about, this might be the unexpected solution you didn’t know you needed.

    What We Do: A Simple Routine That Just Works

    When we go out, I don’t pack anything fancy. I grab a few clean cloth diapers and the Tupperware box that always lives in our stroller. That’s it.

    Here’s how the routine unfolds:

    • When a diaper is used, I place it into the container.
    • If it’s messy, it still goes straight in—no rinsing, no stress.
    • Once we’re home, I take the container and the used diapers to the bathroom.
    • I rinse everything (diapers and container), then:
      • The rinsed diapers go into a dry bucket at home, where they wait for a proper wash within a day or two.
      • The clean container is put right back in the stroller, ready for the next outing.

    There’s nothing revolutionary about it—but it’s simple, effective, and requires no extra thinking or gear.

    Why It Works for Us

    What began as a spontaneous substitution has turned into one of the most dependable parts of our cloth diapering system. Here’s why the humble Tupperware container beats a wet bag—for us.

    1. Odor Control That Actually Works

    Tupperware containers are airtight. That means no smell escapes, even on warm days or long outings. I’ve never had to deal with the sour, musty smell that sometimes builds up in wet bags. The diapers stay contained—and so do the odors.

    2. Leak-Proof and Stress-Free

    Unlike fabric bags that can get damp on the outside or leak if you forget to zip them properly, a sealed plastic box is completely leak-proof. I never have to worry about moisture seeping into the diaper bag or stroller.

    3. Rinse-Friendly and Easy to Clean

    One of the unexpected perks: the Tupperware is super easy to rinse. When I rinse the diapers at home, I can do the container at the same time. It doesn’t absorb odors, and it dries quickly. No lingering wet-bag smell, no buildup.

    4. Always Ready, Always in Place

    The container lives in our stroller. I never have to remember to pack it, and I don’t need to rotate or wash bags separately. It’s one less item on the mental load list.

    5. Zero-Waste and Resourceful

    We already had the container—it wasn’t bought for this purpose, which makes it a perfect example of using what you already have. No trendy accessories. No buying new just for the sake of it. Just practicality in action.

    Why It’s Not the Norm—and Why That’s Okay

    If Tupperware works so well, why isn’t everyone using it? I’ve often wondered that myself. The answer, I think, lies somewhere between marketing, aesthetics, and habit.

    Wet Bags Are the Default

    Most cloth diaper brands sell wet bags alongside their products, often with matching prints and colors. They’re marketed as essential—and when you’re new to cloth diapering, it’s easy to assume you need everything that’s listed in the starter kit.

    There’s also the visual appeal: wet bags look cute, feel “eco,” and match the cloth diaper culture of soft fabrics and cozy routines. A plastic container doesn’t fit that image, even if it performs better.

    We’re Not Always Encouraged to Question the System

    Sometimes, sustainable living becomes more about buying the right items than about reducing waste or simplifying life. But true sustainability often looks like rethinking, repurposing, and resisting the urge to buy something new when something old will do.

    Practical Tips for Anyone Wanting to Try This

    If you’re curious about trying a container instead of a wet bag, here are a few simple things to keep in mind. It’s low-effort, but a few tweaks can make it work even better.

    1. Choose the Right Container

    Look for:

    • A sturdy seal (snap lid or locking sides)
    • Enough space for the right amount of cloth diapers (for us that’s up to 7, as we love longer trips, but consider how much time you like to spend outside)
    • A shape that fits your stroller basket or bag—shallow and wide usually works best, but again, consider your basket or bag

    You might already have something suitable in your kitchen.

    2. Keep It Simple When Out

    No need to rinse on the go. Just drop the diaper into the box. The airtight lid keeps everything contained until you’re home.

    3. Rinse Everything Together

    Once you’re back:

    • Rinse the diapers and the container in the bathroom or laundry sink
    • Diapers go into your regular dry pail
    • Container goes back in the stroller

    No need for soap each time unless it was especially messy.

    4. Dealing with Poop?

    You can use liners, which catch most solids and make cleanup easier. Otherwise, you can:

    • Plop solids into the toilet when home
    • Use a spatula or sprayer if needed
    • Rinse as you normally would

    The container still handles the in-between time without leaks or smell.

    Final Thoughts: Sustainable Parenting Is Also About Simplicity

    Using a Tupperware box for cloth diapers isn’t revolutionary. It’s not flashy or new. But it has saved us time, reduced waste, avoided unnecessary purchases, and made our routine simpler. And that, to me, is what sustainable parenting is all about: meeting your child’s needs while protecting your own energy and the planet’s resources.

    If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by all the “must-haves” of cloth diapering—or parenting in general—I hope this little example reminds you that there’s always room for creativity. You don’t need to follow every rule or buy every accessory. You just need systems that work for you.

    Sometimes, a plastic box is all it takes.

    FAQ: Cloth Diapering Without a Wet Bag

    Can I use a plastic container instead of a wet bag for cloth diapers?

    Absolutely. A sturdy, airtight container (like Tupperware) is a great alternative to a wet bag. It prevents leaks, contains odors, and is easy to rinse and reuse.

    How do you store dirty cloth diapers while out of the house?

    We place them in a sealed container in the stroller. Once home, we rinse both diapers and container. The diapers go into a dry pail until wash day, and the container goes right back into the stroller.

    Doesn’t it smell?

    Nope! Airtight containers seal in odors much better than fabric wet bags. If anything, it smells less than other options.

    What do you do with poopy diapers while out?

    If there is a bathroom nearby, we plop the poop into the toilet. This is optional at this stage. Anyways messy diapers go in the box just like wet ones and get rinsed at home. You can scrape off solids or use a sprayer if needed.

    Isn’t Tupperware bulky?

    It depends on the size you choose. A shallow, wide container usually fits easily in a stroller basket. Some families prefer it precisely because it’s firm and stackable.

    How many diapers fit in the container?

    Ours comfortably holds 6-7 diapers since we often go out for a full day. You can also choose a smaller container (2-4 diapers) for everyday use and bring an extra one (for another 2-4 diapers) just to those longer trips.

    Is it really more sustainable?

    Yes—especially if you\’re using something you already own. It reduces the need to buy new products, avoids microplastic-shedding synthetic fabrics, and is easier to clean and maintain long term.

    What if I already own a wet bag?

    Use what you have! This post isn’t anti-wet bag—it’s just an invitation to rethink the idea that it’s the only way, especially if you haven’t set your system yet. Many parents find containers simpler, cheaper, and more effective.

    What kind of container works best?

    Look for:

    • A tight-sealing lid
    • Leak-proof design
    • Durable, easy-to-clean material
    • A size that fits your typical outings

    You don’t need a matching wet bag or curated accessories to cloth diaper on the go. Sometimes, the best solutions are the simplest ones—like a Tupperware container you already own. It’s not just low waste; it’s zero fuss.

  • When Motherhood Gets Harder: Why Your Toddler Challenges You More Than Your Newborn (+Reflexion Guide)

    Motherhood doesn’t plateau—it transforms.
    And often, it gets harder before it gets easier.

    If you’re parenting a toddler and find yourself wondering why things feel more intense now than they did with a newborn,you’re not imagining it. And no, it’s not because you’re failing or not adapting fast enough. It’s because the demands of motherhood grow as your child grows. That’s how it’s meant to be—so you can grow too.

    This isn’t a sign that you’re behind. It’s a sign that the mountain just got steeper.

    Let’s explore why things feel harder now, what it means for your growth as a mother, and how to offer yourself compassion and practical care on this path.

    Sleep: From Predictable Waking to Constant Interruptions

    Newborn:
    Newborns sleep in predictable cycles and nap frequently during the day. Their night wakings are biologically expected—and often accompanied by milk and a return to sleep.

    Toddler:
    Toddlers may only nap once a day (or skip naps altogether), but their night waking can peak again due to teething, hunger, developmental leaps, or separation anxiety. They may wake three to fifteen times in a single night—yet now, they are mobile, verbal, and opinionated about what they need at 2 a.m.

    What this means for you:

    • Your sleep deprivation becomes cumulative.
    • There is less daytime rest to recover.
    • You may feel caught off guard: “Shouldn’t it be easier by now?”
      But your child is now more active, more sensitive, and more expressive—which means their sleep disruptions are more complex.

    Comforting Truth:
    You didn’t regress. You’re just climbing a steeper slope.

    Food: From Simple Nourishment to Power Struggles and Sensory Play

    Newborn:
    Milk—whether breast or bottle—is the sole form of nourishment. The feeding rhythm may be intense, but it’s straightforward: feed, burp, repeat.

    Toddler:
    Your toddler now needs solids and milk, with preferences, aversions, and a fiery desire for independence. They want to hold the spoon. Then throw it. Then smear hummus on the floor. They go through phases of eating a lot, then hardly eating anything.

    What this means for you:

    • Meals may turn into emotional battlegrounds.
    • You spend more time cleaning, prepping, and negotiating than actually feeding.
    • You’re constantly adapting to evolving dietary and sensory needs.

    Comforting Truth:
    This is not about control. It’s about exploration—and you’re guiding a tiny human through it with so much care.

    Play and Stimulation: From Quiet Observation to Full-Body Chaos

    Newborn:
    Visual and auditory stimulation are enough—mobiles, faces, and soft voices fascinate them. Playtime is gentle and often short.

    Toddler:
    Your toddler is wired to explore the world. They climb, dump, pull, scatter, run, and need hours outdoors or they become restless and dysregulated. They need novelty and challenge—but also your presence for emotional co-regulation.

    What this means for you:

    • You’re constantly redirecting or repairing chaos.
    • Your home feels like a battlefield, no matter how minimalist.
    • You can’t “just sit down” while your child plays—they want you involved, watching, reacting.

    Comforting Truth:
    This wild energy isn’t a sign of something wrong—it’s a developmental miracle. But it is exhausting. You’re not weak—you’re immersed in something very real.

    Attention and Presence: From Physical Holding to Mental-Emotional Attunement

    Newborn:
    They need closeness and touch, but not much mental energy. You can rest or read while holding them, and their emotional needs are simple: comfort, food, sleep.

    Toddler:
    Your toddler craves constant emotional availability. They want eye contact, verbal feedback, imaginative participation, and empathy for big feelings that shift minute to minute. You must constantly toggle between roles: nurturer, translator, boundary-setter, teacher.

    What this means for you:

    • You have little to no mental privacy.
    • You may feel “talked out,” “touched out,” or overstimulated.
    • Even your inner world starts to feel hijacked.

    Comforting Truth:
    This isn’t a failure of boundaries or resilience—it’s the reality of toddlerhood. It demands more emotional labor than people talk about.

    But Toddlers Give More, Too

    With all these increasing demands, toddlers also begin to give back.

    • They say “I love you.”
    • They make you laugh until your sides hurt.
    • They want to be your helper, your friend, your sidekick.
    • They offer companionship that newborns can’t.
    • Their imagination invites you into magical play.
    • They show personality, curiosity, even spiritual depth.

    Your child is becoming more than a baby—they’re becoming a companion. A mirror. A teacher.

    Why You’re Not Behind—You’re Just Facing a New Chapter

    Here’s the truth every overwhelmed mother of a toddler needs to hear:

    This isn’t harder because you’re doing it wrong.
    It’s harder because the job has changed.

    Motherhood isn\’t a skill you master once. It’s a relationship that evolves.
    And each phase invites you to deepen your presence, stretch your patience, and learn new forms of self-care.

    Final Thoughts: Let the Challenge Grow You

    Yes, it’s harder.
    But not because you’re weak.
    Because this part of the path is steep—and you\’re still climbing.

    Every emotional outburst, every long night, every meal flung across the kitchen is not proof of failure.
    It’s proof that you’re in the thick of something sacred.

    And you are allowed to feel overwhelmed and devoted at the same time.

    Free Download—\”From Baby to Toddler: A Mother’s Quiet Evolution\”

    Get my printable reflection guide to help you process this transition and reconnect with your growth as a mother.
    It includes journaling prompts, nervous system resets, and gentle affirmations.

    Download for free

    Explore further:

    🌀The Heroine’s Journey Through Motherhood: A Path of Healing (Even More So For Emotionally Neglected Daughters)

    🧸The Toy Trigger: Why Clutter Overwhelms You and How to Heal It (+Free Journal for Moms)

    👧Touched Out, Talked Out: The Repetition, Clinginess, and Loudness of Toddlers—and the Silent Burnout of Mothers (+free journal)

  • The Toy Trigger: Why Clutter Overwhelms You and How to Heal It (+Free Journal for Moms)

    Even in minimalist homes, a few stray items—blocks on the floor, clothes on the sofa—can evoke a wave of tension or even rage. For many mothers, it feels disproportionate. Why does something so small feel so big?

    Let’s explore four deeper psychological roots behind this trigger. Each one represents a unique layer of emotional and sensory overload, sometimes rooted in past experiences, current demands, or nervous system wiring.

    1. Nervous System Overload: When Visual Clutter Feels Like Noise

    The lens of sensory processing and chronic overstimulation

    You wake up and immediately you’re needed—there are tiny voices calling for you, bodies climbing on you, questions already forming in little mouths. You make breakfast while fielding three different topics, cleaning spills, refereeing arguments. You don’t sit down until maybe… bedtime.

    Now imagine that in this already maxed-out nervous system state, your eyes land on a scattered toy train, an upturned sweater, or a puzzle spilling across the floor.

    Why this is so overwhelming:

    • Sensory load is cumulative. Your brain doesn’t register just what’s happening right now—it’s absorbing the total sum of inputs over hours (or days).
    • Visual stimuli—especially when associated with tasks (tidying, sorting, decision-making)—require mental bandwidth. That’s why you feel your heart rate rise, your breath shorten.
    • In mothers, particularly those who are the default parent, this overload is continuous and rarely relieved. This creates a state of near-constant low-level activation in the sympathetic nervous system (fight-or-flight mode).

    You might feel:

    • “If I look at this mess for one more minute, I’ll scream.”
    • “Why is no one else noticing this?”
    • “I need space, I need silence, I need to not see one more thing.”

    Behind that is a plea:

    “I need the world to stop asking something of me, even visually.”

    You are not “overreacting.” You are a deeply attuned human being living in an overstimulating environment. That irritation is a warning light, not a flaw.

    2. The Need for Control as a Form of Emotional Safety

    Why order can feel like survival when your inner world is overwhelmed

    Let’s say you had a childhood home where you didn’t know what version of a parent would walk in the door—or perhaps your emotional needs were subtly dismissed. As a child, you may have latched onto external order to create a sense of internal safety.

    Now, as a mother:

    • A clean space represents calm, predictability, and respect.
    • Clutter feels like chaos intruding on your nervous system.
    • When others are indifferent to the mess, it feels like they’re indifferent to your need for peace.

    This can create an outsized emotional reaction:

    “How can no one else care about this? Do they not see how much I’m holding together?”

    You’re not reacting to the toy. You’re reacting to the collapse of a protective strategy—one that has helped you survive stress, trauma, or disconnection in the past.

    And when this layer of control slips? You may feel:

    • Anxious
    • Snapped into rage
    • Hypervigilant (checking everything, snapping at small things)
    • Emotionally alone

    This control is not about being uptight. It’s about:

    “If I can just keep this one thing contained, maybe I won’t fall apart.”

    3. The Invisible Labor of Mothers: When Clutter Feels Like Disrespect

    The emotional cost of always being the one who notices

    You’ve chosen to parent intentionally. You care about your child’s sensory environment, their emotional safety, their developmental rhythm.

    You’ve probably:

    • Read books, listened to podcasts, learned what “calm corners” and “prepared environments” are.
    • Reorganized toys into thoughtful baskets, curated clothing, pared back to essentials.
    • Tried to teach the value of “a place for everything.”

    So when someone—your child, your partner, a visitor—disrupts this without care, the mess isn’t just physical. It’s personal.

    It whispers:

    • “Your effort doesn’t matter here.”
    • “No one sees what you’re holding.”
    • “You’re alone in caring.”

    This is emotional labor. You carry the mental map of your home, your family, your day. And visual mess becomes a symbol of that emotional burden being unseen.

    When your partner walks past the toys and doesn’t blink, while you feel your skin crawl at the sight of them, it may feel like:

    “Am I crazy, or just the only one paying attention?”

    This is not about being fussy. This is about holding a family’s rhythm, without recognition.

    4. Inner Child Wounds: When Present-Day Triggers Echo the Past

    Why the mess brings up deeper, older pain

    Let’s revisit those toys on the floor—but through the lens of your inner child.

    You might suddenly feel a burst of anger or despair not quite proportionate to the moment. That’s a clue: your younger self is speaking.

    Possible echoes:

    • You were the eldest child and made to clean up everyone’s messes.
    • You lived in a chaotic home where order was rare, and the mess felt scary or humiliating.
    • You were shamed for your messiness—but also never taught how to feel calm in a space.

    Or maybe:

    • You never had space that was truly yours.
    • You longed for beauty and order, and now you finally have it—only to see it constantly undone.

    So when your home becomes cluttered now, your adult self sees a to-do list—but your inner child may be saying:

    “I don’t want to be the one who fixes this again.”
    “I worked so hard for peace. Why don’t I get to have it?”

    The anger, the resentment, the urge to scream—it’s not just about now. It’s about then. And that makes it sacred to explore, not shameful to suppress.

    Part Two: The Healing Journey — Reclaiming Calm, One Layer at a Time

    Soothing Nervous System Overload: When Visual Clutter Feels Like a Personal Attack

    For the mother who feels like she’s going to scream when she sees one more thing out of place.

    What’s really needed:
    Not a perfectly clean house.
    Not more storage bins.
    But nervous system safety, sensory quiet, and moments of re-regulation.

    Tool 1: Create “Sensory Off-Switch” Moments

    Even 30 seconds of deliberate stillness can down-regulate your system. Try one of these:

    • Micro-Haven Protocol: Choose a small place in your home (a corner, a chair, a bathroom shelf) that remains sacred—no clutter. Let this be your visual exhale.
    • Hand-on-Heart Pause: Place one hand on your heart, the other on your belly. Inhale slowly. Exhale longer. Whisper: “I am allowed to rest.”
    • Softening the Eyes: When clutter spikes your irritation, try a soft-focus gaze. Look around the mess. Signal to your brain: This is not a threat.

    Tool 2: Pre-Emptive Deactivation Ritual

    Before the overwhelm hits, plan a daily 5–10 minute sensory reset:

    • Aromatherapy with grounding scents (vetiver, lavender, frankincense)
    • Sit with your eyes closed while holding a warm drink
    • Lie on the floor and put your feet up a wall
    • Guided somatic meditation—something that helps you return to your body

    Even once a day is powerful. This is not luxury. This is maintenance.

    Reclaiming Control Without Rigidity: Finding Safety in Flexibility

    For the mother who needs control to feel calm, but feels imprisoned by it too.

    What’s really needed:
    To feel safe without perfection.
    To recognize when control is love—and when it’s fear in disguise.

    Tool 1: Name the Safety Strategy

    Ask yourself when the irritation rises:

    • “What part of me is needing order right now?”
    • “What does this part fear will happen if I let go?”
      Write down your answers. You may hear your inner child saying:
    • “No one will help me.”
    • “Everything will spiral.”
    • “I’ll never have peace again.”

    The moment you name it, you’re not in it—you’re witnessing it. That’s power.

    Tool 2: Replace Control with Micro-Agency

    Try this mindset swap:

    • Instead of: “Everything needs to be clean.”
    • Try: “I choose three things I’ll care about today. The rest can wait.”

    Pick your “visual anchors”:

    • A cleared dining table
    • The coffee corner reset each morning
    • A single toy basket that gets picked up before dinner

    Give yourself structured permission to let go elsewhere. That’s not failing—that’s healing.

    Naming the Invisible Labor: Turning Resentment into Communication and Relief

    For the mother who feels rage when she’s the only one noticing or fixing the mess.

    What’s really needed:
    To feel seen.
    To shift from invisible holding to shared responsibility.

    Tool 1: The “What I Carry” List

    Take 10 minutes and write:

    • Everything you mentally track (socks that need replacing, birthday gifts to buy)
    • Everything you visually notice and clean up daily
    • Everything you emotionally hold (meltdowns, transitions, routines)

    Then ask yourself: “Which of these do I resent?”

    This list isn’t about blame. It’s about truth-telling. From here, real conversations begin.

    Tool 2: Partner Conversation Script

    Use this when your partner doesn’t notice visual clutter like you do:

    “I know you care about our home differently than I do—and that’s okay. But for me, seeing toys on the floor feels like the 30th thing I’m holding that day. When I walk into a room and see mess, my brain doesn’t see stuff—it sees a lack of support. Can we find a shared rhythm that respects both our thresholds?”

    Follow with:

    • One concrete ask (e.g., “Could you do a quick evening tidy in the living room while I do bedtime?”)
    • A reminder of the shared goal (“We both want peace here.”)

    Reparenting the Inner Child Who Fears No One Will Help

    For the mother who doesn’t just dislike clutter—she feels abandoned by it.

    This one runs deep.
    Because when you walk into a messy room and feel your chest tighten, it’s not just the toys.
    It’s the echo of long-ago moments when you were overwhelmed and no one came.

    This isn’t about being dramatic. It’s about witnessing the truth.
    For many mothers, clutter activates unhealed experiences of being left to cope alone.

    What’s Really Needed:

    To bring compassion to the part of you that believes:

    • “If I don’t stay on top of this, everything will fall apart.”
    • “If I rest, I’m lazy.”
    • “I can’t trust anyone else to notice or care.”

    These beliefs were formed in environments of emotional neglect, chaos, or premature responsibility.
    You may have been the child who cleaned up while your parents checked out.
    The teenager who became the organizer because no one else was.
    The adult who equated order with love and self-worth.

    Tool 1: Daily Inner Parenting Ritual

    Set aside 3 minutes each day—while brushing your teeth, sipping tea, or lying in bed.
    Say to yourself, out loud or silently:

    “You don’t have to hold it all anymore.”
    “I see how hard it was. You deserved help then, and you deserve it now.”
    “I am learning how to give you peace.”

    Let these words sink in. You may cry. You may resist. That’s okay. Keep showing up.

    Tool 2: Replace “Hypervigilance Cleaning” with “Relational Soothing”

    Often, we tidy when we feel overwhelmed—not because the mess is urgent, but because we’re trying to calm our nervous system.
    But what if we replaced that moment of frantic tidying with one of:

    • Asking for a 5-minute hug from your partner
    • Sitting on the floor and breathing while your child plays
    • Calling a friend and saying, “Can I just talk while I sit in this mess?”

    The mess will wait. Your inner child cannot.

    Tool 3: The “What If I’m Not Alone?” Journal Prompt

    Open a page and answer this:

    “If I truly believed I wasn’t alone in this… what would I let go of today?”
    “If someone was coming to support me later, how would I feel differently right now?”

    Let your mind write freely. Notice what yearns to be released.

    In this part of the healing, you don’t need a storage system.
    You need proof that you are no longer alone—especially from yourself.

    Making Peace with Difference: When Your Partner Sees Mess Differently Than You

    For the mother who feels unseen or even betrayed by a partner’s calm in the face of chaos.

    You walk into the room.
    There are Legos under the table, socks on the couch, and half-dressed dolls on the stairs.
    You feel your heart race.
    Your partner? Relaxing. Unbothered. Maybe even playful.

    It doesn’t make sense—how can he not see it?

    What’s Really Happening:

    This is not about dust or toys. This is about meaning.

    Clutter is not neutral—we each bring our past, nervous system wiring, values, and roles to how we interpret it. Your reaction may be shaped by:

    • A nervous system that scans for visual “threats” to peace
    • A belief that mess equals failure
    • A childhood where you were judged harshly for untidiness
    • Or simply: an internalized rule that “it’s my job to notice and fix”

    Meanwhile, your partner may have learned:

    • “If the kids are happy, the mess doesn’t matter.”
    • “We clean once a day, not all day.”
    • “Dishes are urgent; toys are not.”

    You’re not broken. He’s not careless. You’re different—and that difference needs tending, not silence.

    Tool 1: Discover Each Other’s “Mess Language”

    Try this prompt in a calm moment:

    “When you walk into a messy room, what’s the first thing you feel?”
    “When does mess feel okay to you—and when does it not?”

    Then share your own:

    “When I see toys on the sofa, I feel like I’ve failed to create calm.”
    “I don’t need perfection—I need to feel like someone else sees what I see.”

    This isn’t about changing each other—it’s about creating a bridge.

    Tool 2: Re-negotiate Roles Without Blame

    If you’re the one who notices the toy clutter first, you may unconsciously carry the entire load.

    Instead of “Why don’t you care?”, try:

    “Can we set up a reset routine for toy zones, so it’s not always on me to notice and manage it?”

    Or:

    “What’s something I tend to do by default that we could share?”

    Clarity isn’t unromantic—it’s relational care.

    Tool 3: Make Peace with What He Does See

    It’s easy to feel abandoned when someone doesn’t match your triggers. But sometimes, the pain softens when you remember:

    He may not see the blocks on the floor… but he sees the baby’s joy.
    He doesn’t flinch at the mess, because he trusts we’ll get to it.
    He’s calm—not because he doesn’t care, but because he feels safe.

    This is not to excuse imbalance, but to anchor in the truth:
    You may be overfunctioning, while he is simply regulated.

    And sometimes, your nervous system needs his calm more than it needs his panic.

    Transforming the Relationship to Visual Chaos: From Threat to Messenger

    For the mother whose eyes scan the room and immediately feel alarm. Who feels hijacked by a pile of toys or scattered clothes. Who wants peace—and doesn’t know how to find it.

    Clutter as a Nervous System Alarm

    Our bodies don’t just see mess. They interpret it.
    For some, a few stray crayons mean creativity and play.
    For others, they signal danger, failure, or impending meltdown.

    This isn’t exaggerated—it’s real.

    Visual clutter can function as a trigger, especially if you:

    • Grew up in a home where order was a form of survival (emotionally or physically)
    • Associated tidiness with love, approval, or control
    • Developed perfectionistic tendencies to stay safe or earn affection
    • Became the “invisible manager” of everyone’s needs and emotions

    In such cases, your body codes clutter as unfinished business—and unfinished business as threat.

    The toys become not just toys, but symbols:

    “No one sees what I do.”
    “I’ll never get a break.”
    “I’m failing to contain the chaos.”
    “This is all on me.”

    These meanings lodge in your body before they reach your mind.

    From Meaning to Messenger

    The first step in transformation is not changing your environment—but shifting your inner response.

    Try this:

    1. Pause when you feel the rush of irritation at visual mess.
    2. Name what you’re telling yourself it means.“There are clothes on the sofa. What am I making this mean about me?”
    3. Gently question it.“Is it true that this mess means I’m failing?”
      “Could it mean something else—like we had a joyful morning?”

    This doesn’t mean loving the mess.
    It means untangling your worth from your environment.
    It means seeing clutter not as an emergency, but as a signal that you’re carrying too much.

    Reclaiming the Body’s Safety Signal

    When your system interprets toys on the floor as a threat, you can begin to rewire this pattern by actively calming your nervous system in the moment.

    Use micro-regulation:

    • Stand still. Press your feet to the ground. Breathe in for 4, out for 6.
    • Whisper: “This is not an emergency. My worth is not defined by these socks.”

    Then, decide with intention—not compulsion—what to do next:

    “I’ll tidy this small area for five minutes.”
    “I’ll leave it. It’s not urgent.”
    “I’ll ask for help instead of exploding.”

    Each time you shift from reactivity to response, you retrain your body to feel safe even in mild disorder.

    That is freedom.

    Final Thoughts

    When clutter feels unbearable, it’s rarely just about the objects. It’s about the inner noise we’re carrying, the roles we’ve been assigned, and the longing for a space that mirrors our inner calm. As mothers, we deserve environments that replenish us—not just demand from us.

    By listening to the message underneath the mess, we begin to reclaim more than our space—we reclaim our right to feel whole in our own home.

    Download my Free Journal

    If this resonated, download the free journaling guide, “When Toys on the Floor Feel Overwhelming,” to begin gently shifting your home—and your nervous system.

    Download journal

    Explore further:

    🍽️When Food Waste Feels Like a Personal Attack: Healing Parental Triggers Around Mealtime Struggles

    🎧Mom Guilt & Mental Stimulation: Why You Crave Podcasts but Feel Guilty Ignoring Your Kids

    🤰Preparing Your Toddler for a New Baby: Honest Expectations and Gentle Transitions for a Strong Sibling Bond

  • Touched Out, Talked Out: The Repetition, Clinginess, and Loudness of Toddlers—and the Silent Burnout of Mothers (+free journal)

    There’s a moment many mothers won’t admit to out loud.

    It’s not when the toddler throws food. Or even when they scream in public.

    It’s when that small, familiar voice calls your name—again. Or when the child gently touches your arm, again. Or repeats the same phrase for the fifth time in one minute, again. And you feel it:

    A jolt of irritation. A full-body “no.” A craving to be alone so raw it feels almost physical.

    This doesn’t make you a bad mother. It makes you a deeply human one. Especially if you’re the primary caregiver—mentally carrying everything from the grocery list to emotional attunement, with little space for your own voice in the noise.

    Let’s break this down together—from your toddler’s inner world to your own—and offer practical, compassionate ways to create more space, sanity, and connection.

    Why Your Toddler Repeats, Follows, and Demands So Much Attention—Even After You Respond

    Your toddler isn’t trying to wear you down. They’re doing what their brain is wired to do.

    Developmental Psychology: Repetition Is Learning + Reassurance

    Children around age 3 are in what Piaget called the preoperational stage. They’re forming symbolic thought and beginning to understand time and sequence—but it’s still fragile.

    Repetition—whether asking the same question or repeating a phrase—helps them:

    • Solidify understanding
    • Regulate uncertainty
    • Re-confirm emotional safety
    • Maintain connection with you (especially if they sense your attention is split)

    Nervous System Co-Regulation

    According to neurodevelopmental and attachment research, young children regulate their emotions through co-regulation with a calm adult. If they sense you’re pulling away—mentally, emotionally, or physically—they often increase their bids for connection.

    This means more talking, more touching, more noise. Not because they’re defiant, but because their nervous system is dysregulated—and reaching for you as an anchor.

    Even if you’re right there physically, your inner emotional withdrawal can be felt. And it makes them louder.

    Why This Triggers a Deep and Specific Kind of Irritation in You

    The irritation you feel isn’t a character flaw—it’s an important nervous system signal. And it often holds layers of meaning:

    Overstimulation and Emotional Saturation

    When you spend all day responding to needs, giving emotional presence, and being “on” around the clock, your brain eventually hits what occupational therapists call sensory and emotional saturation.

    At this point, even gentle, non-threatening stimuli—like a child’s voice or touch—can feel invasive. Your system starts interpreting everything as too much.

    “Stop touching me.”
    “Stop asking me things.”
    “Just let me be alone.”

    This is common among primary caregivers, especially those without built-in rest or emotional support. And it often shows up as irritation, resentment, and shutdown—especially in the late afternoon and evening.

    You’re Not Just Tired. You’re Under-Touched by Support and Over-Touched by Demand

    It’s not just the quantity of interaction—it’s the imbalance.

    You’re giving presence all day. But when was the last time someone was present with you? When did you last finish a thought, a tea, or a sentence without interruption?

    This is chronic invisible labor—and your body keeps the score.

    When you feel irritation just from being approached, your body may be screaming:

    “I need to reclaim my boundaries.”
    “I need silence to hear my own mind.”
    “I need someone to care for me.”

    The Escalation Cycle: Why Your Child Gets Louder When You Withdraw

    Let’s zoom in.

    You feel overstimulated and begin to mentally retreat—maybe you get quieter, shorter in tone, or subtly physically distance yourself. Your toddler notices the shift, even if you didn’t say a word.

    Because their brain isn’t yet equipped to interpret adult emotional states, they often interpret your withdrawal as:

    • “Something’s wrong.”
    • “I’m losing connection.”
    • “I need to get her attention back.”

    So they increase stimulation—more repetition, louder volume, even physical climbing. This can create a mutually dysregulating loop:

    • You try to withdraw → They get louder
    • They get louder → You feel invaded
    • You finally snap or shut down → They cry or meltdown

    This isn’t a sign you’re failing. It’s a sign that both of your systems need repair and regulation.

    When This Irritation Feels Shameful: Naming the Unspoken Wound

    For many mothers, the hardest part isn’t the noise itself—it’s what the irritation means to them.

    “What kind of mother gets irritated by her own child’s voice?”
    “Why do I cringe when she touches me sweetly?”
    “What is wrong with me?”

    Nothing is wrong with you. But we must gently explore the internalized stories that get activated.

    Many women were taught to be:

    • The “good girl” who didn’t need space
    • The “strong mother” who never loses patience
    • The “selfless woman” who doesn’t get to complain

    So when your body screams for solitude, those cultural ghosts whisper that you’re failing. But you’re not. You’re human. You’re flooded. And your nervous system is waving a white flag.

    Tools to Break the Loop: For You and Your Toddler

    This isn’t about being perfect. It’s about learning how to de-escalate before the shutdown hits.

    For Your Nervous System

    • Sensory Protection: Use earplugs at home. It can reduce the intensity of input while still allowing you to hear your child.
    • Silent Signal: Have a phrase or gesture that means “I need space” that your child can learn over time. E.g., “Mama bubble” or “quiet hands.”
    • Micro-Doses of Solitude: Step outside for 2 minutes. Lock the bathroom. Lie on the floor with your eyes shut. Let the nervous system start to unfreeze.
    • Evening Nervous System Ritual: Gentle shaking, tapping, or stretching can release the residue of overstimulation.

    For Your Toddler’s Repetition and Clinginess

    • Use Timers and Visuals: “When the sand runs out, we’ll go to the park.” Or: “See this clock? When the big hand is here, we’ll have snack.” External anchors reduce the need to repeat.
    • Acknowledge, Then Redirect: “You really want to know what’s next. That’s important to you. Let’s draw it together.”
    • Name the Pattern: “I noticed you’re asking again and again. That happens when you feel unsure, huh?”
    • Build Independent Play Slowly: Use “presence-to-absence” transitions. Sit with her for a minute while she plays. Then step away for one minute. Gradually stretch the time.

    Long-Term Nourishment: You Need More Than Breaks. You Need to Be Witnessed

    Practical tools help. But if we stop there, we miss something deeper.

    What most mothers need is not just alone time—it’s time when they aren’t needed. Time to be more than a giver. Time to be human, to be reflected, to be received.

    If you never feel psychologically alone—if you are always someone’s emotional container—burnout is inevitable.

    Build in nourishment like:

    • A friend who listens without advice
    • A journal that doesn’t interrupt
    • A therapist or group who holds space for you
    • Creative rituals that remind you of who you are outside of motherhood

    Scripts + Nervous System First Aid for the “I’m Going to Lose It” Moments

    When you’re at the end of your rope, you don’t need abstract advice. You need concrete tools that calm your body, help your child feel safe, and reconnect you both with some kind of ground. These tools are for those moments when your nervous system is buzzing, your skin is crawling, and you can’t take one more “Mama?”

    Nervous System First Aid: Immediate Regulation for You

    These aren’t luxuries. They’re life rafts—and the more often you reach for them early, the less likely you are to explode, freeze, or collapse.

    1. The Stop-Drop-Soothe Sequence

    This is a nervous system circuit breaker. It can take as little as 30 seconds.

    • STOP: Freeze your physical movement and internal spiral. Plant your feet.
    • DROP: Exhale loudly. Drop your shoulders. Loosen your jaw.
    • SOOTHE: Rub your own arms slowly like you would calm a child. Or place one hand on your heart, one on your belly, and say:
      “I am here. This is hard. But I am here.”

    It might feel silly. But you are activating your vagus nerve and signaling to your system that you are safe enough to come down.

    2. The “Safe Word”

    Choose a simple code phrase with your partner or child to signal: “I’m nearing shutdown.”

    Examples:

    • “I need a brain break.”
    • “Mama’s in turtle mode.”
    • “I love you, and I need quiet now.”

    Repeat it like a broken record, gently. It creates predictability and reminds both of you: this is a moment, not a disaster.

    3. Touch the Ground. Literally.

    This is somatic grounding. Sit down if you can. Press your hands or feet into the floor. Feel the texture. Push back.

    Say to yourself (or out loud):

    “This is the ground. I am here. I am safe. I can pause.”

    Scripts for Your Toddler: Connection Without Giving Everything

    Let’s say your child is following you, repeating a question, tugging at you, and you feel the tension rising. Instead of silence (which they read as abandonment) or snapping (which often leads to guilt), try:

    1. Name and Anchor the Need

    “You want to know if we’re going to the park. You’ve asked many times. It’s hard to wait. The answer is yes, after lunch. I won’t change it.”

    This gives both emotional validation and a firm external anchor (the sequence of events).

    2. Connect + Contain

    “You want to be near me. I’m not going far. I’ll be over here, and you’ll be right there. We’re both in the same room. Let’s be quiet together for a bit.”

    This preserves attachment while gently teaching separation.

    3. Affirm Limits Without Rejection

    “My body is saying ‘no’ to touching right now. I love you, and I’ll be ready for hugs again soon.”

    You are modeling bodily autonomy and emotional honesty, both vital skills for your child.

    4. Narrate Your Needs

    Children can begin to understand when you model your own self-care.

    “Mama’s brain is tired. I need quiet time to help my brain feel better. I’ll set a timer. When it dings, I’ll be ready to talk again.”

    This builds empathy, language for internal states, and time awareness.

    You Were Never Meant to Do This Alone

    The mental load, the constant noise, the relentless presence your toddler craves—it wasn’t meant to fall solely on one adult. Especially not without built-in rest, support, and community.

    If you find yourself regularly feeling rage, numbness, or aversion when your child reaches for you, that doesn’t mean something is broken in you.

    It means your system is giving a signal: too much out, not enough in.

    You need replenishment that is structural, not just individual.

    • Can you build pockets of protected silence into your week?
    • Is there someone who can take your child out of the house—even for 45 minutes?
    • Can you reduce sensory input at home (fewer toys, lower lighting, quiet music)?
    • Do you need to see a therapist not because you’re unwell, but because you’ve been carrying everything alone?

    The repair starts not with fixing your reactions—but validating the weight you’ve been holding.

    Why Haven’t You Built in Replenishment? (Even Though You Know You Need It)

    If you\’re like many mothers, the moment you even consider taking time for yourself, a wave of guilt or resistance kicks in:

    • “It’s not fair to my child.”
    • “I’m the only one who can do it right.”
    • “My needs can wait.”
    • “It’s just not realistic right now.”

    Let’s go beneath those thoughts.

    A. You May Have Been Taught That Self-Neglect Is Love

    If you grew up in a home where the adults modeled self-sacrifice as virtue, you may have internalized the belief that:

    \”Good mothers don\’t need space.\”
    \”Real love means being constantly available.\”
    \”It\’s selfish to want time away from your child.\”

    These aren’t conscious thoughts—but they’re embedded in our nervous systems, inherited through modeling, culture, and often gendered socialization. Especially for women, caretaking without limits is rewarded, while boundaries are often punished with labels like “cold,” “lazy,” or “selfish.”

    Until those beliefs are named, they will silently shape your behavior—even if your rational mind knows better.

    B. You May Have Attachment Wounds That Make Separation Feel Unsafe

    If your own early relationships were marked by inconsistency, abandonment, or enmeshment, you might unconsciously fear that stepping away will cause rupture or rejection—either from your child or partner.

    You might:

    • Avoid asking for help because you don’t trust it’ll actually be given or received well.
    • Fear your child will melt down or feel unloved if you\’re not constantly available.
    • Overfunction to maintain emotional control in the home.

    These are protective adaptations from your own past—and they make real rest feel risky.

    C. You May Feel You Haven’t “Earned” Rest Yet

    Many mothers carry an internal productivity scorecard. If you haven’t:

    • Finished the dishes,
    • Folded the laundry,
    • Responded to every need with grace,
    • Or used your time “well”…

    …then you don’t feel entitled to stop.

    This is a trauma-informed perfectionism. Underneath it is often the fear that you are only lovable or safe when you’re performing well.

    Rest, in this system, feels dangerous—because it confronts your worthiness.

    Making Space for You (Without the Inner Collapse)

    This is not about bubble baths and candles. This is about reclaiming your right to exist as a person—not just a role.

    But if your nervous system associates rest or distance with guilt, abandonment, or failure, you need to go slowly. You’re not lazy. You’re unlearning survival patterns.

    Here’s how to start:

    A. Micro-Replenishments That Don’t Trigger Guilt

    Try building tiny moments of repair into your day—before your system hits crisis:

    • 60 seconds of deep breathing with your hand on your chest while your toddler plays beside you.
    • Drinking water and chewing slowly without multitasking.
    • Asking your partner to do the bedtime routine two nights a week—even if it’s “messy.”
    • Letting your child watch you lie down with eyes closed, saying, “Mama is resting. You are safe.”

    These small shifts build nervous system tolerance for separation and rest.

    B. Rewriting the Script With Affirmations That Actually Speak to Your Fear

    Try using affirmations that don’t bypass the pain, but gently speak to the fear.

    • “It’s safe to rest, even if others are uncomfortable.”
    • “My child can feel frustrated and still know they are loved.”
    • “I can take up space without needing to earn it.”
    • “My limits are not rejections—they are instructions for love.”

    Write them down. Put them on your wall. Say them aloud. Not because they’re magic—but because your inner childmay never have heard them before.

    C. Ask: What Would It Take to Believe I Deserve This?

    Instead of forcing yourself to take rest, get curious:

    “What would I need to believe to feel safe taking this space?”
    “Where did I learn that my presence must be constant to be good?”

    Journal. Talk to a therapist. Hold your own heart with tenderness.

    Your child does not need a perfect mother. But they do need a mother with enough of herself left to truly see them.

    And you deserve a life that includes your own voice, not just echoes of others’ needs.

    Structural Change in Real Motherhood: Not Ideal, But Possible

    When you’re depleted, the last thing you want is a “perfect schedule” that doesn’t fit your reality. But without intentional scaffolding, burnout becomes the baseline.

    Let’s explore what structure can look like when you have:

    • A toddler attached to your hip,
    • Minimal outside help,
    • Limited energy to plan anything elaborate.

    A. Use Anchor Points, Not Rigid Routines

    You don’t need a rigid schedule. You need predictable moments that your nervous system can count on.

    Try identifying 3 anchors per day that are for you, even if brief:

    • A morning grounding moment (e.g., slow tea while toddler plays beside you).
    • A post-lunch sensory reset (e.g., warm compress over eyes, 2-minute silence).
    • A boundary ritual at bedtime (e.g., no one touches you for 15 minutes after toddler falls asleep).

    These anchors signal safety to your body and give it something to orient toward.

    B. Reclaim “Boredom” Without Shame

    The guilt around letting your toddler play independently while you sit alone is cultural noise, not truth.

    If it lets you hear your own thoughts and reconnect with yourself—that’s parenting, not failing.

    Practice this mantra:

    “Just because it’s not ideal doesn’t mean it’s wrong. It means I’m human.”

    C. Externalize the Plan: Create a Visual Rest Map

    Draw a simple “Replenishment Map” on your fridge:

    • Circle your three anchors.
    • Add 1 emergency option (“If I’m spiraling, I can… call X, take toddler to playground and sit down, etc.”)
    • Involve your toddler: “This is mama’s rest plan. When she does these things, she can be more fun again.”

    This invites collaboration rather than conflict, even with a young child.

    Involving Your Partner or Community (Even If They Don’t Naturally Offer Help)

    A. People Aren’t Mind Readers—They Need Specific Invitations

    Your partner may not act not because they don’t care, but because:

    • They don’t know what would help,
    • They fear doing it “wrong,” or
    • You’ve unknowingly reinforced the idea that you’ll “just do it yourself.”

    Try language like:

    “I’m getting depleted in the late afternoon. Could you be on with [toddler] from 5:30 to 6:00 every day so I can fully disconnect?”

    Be specific. Tie it to impact:

    “Even 20 minutes alone helps me return more regulated and loving.”

    B. Stop Waiting for Someone to Offer—Build a Circle Intentionally

    If your extended family isn’t close or helpful, create your own community care net.

    Options:

    • Trade childcare hours with another mother once a week.
    • Create a local WhatsApp group: “Mamas Who Need a Minute.”
    • Hire a high school student to play with your toddler while you lie down in the same room (low cost, high impact).

    Every village is built, not found.

    Reflection + Journal Prompts: Listening to the You Beneath the Resentment

    These prompts are designed to uncover not just what you\’re feeling, but why, and what you might need next.

    A. For Understanding the Repetition Trigger

    “When my toddler repeats the same thing over and over, I feel ___ because ___.”

    “What part of me wants to be heard but keeps being dismissed—even by myself?”

    B. For Exploring the Irritation With Touch

    “When I feel touched out and still pursued, what am I really craving?”

    “Where did I learn that I don’t get to say no without guilt?”

    C. For Reclaiming Space

    “What does my version of rest look like—not the idealized version?”

    “What’s one way I can tend to myself today that doesn’t require anyone’s permission?”

    Ready to Reclaim Space Without Guilt? Download my Free Mini Journal

    If this resonated, I’ve created a free mini journal, “Touched Out, Talked Out: A Gentle Guide for Overwhelmed Mothers,” with simple reflection exercises, replenishment templates, and nervous system tools to use in 5 minutes or less.

    Download for free

    Your child does not need a perfect mother. But they do need a mother with enough of herself left to truly see them.

    And you deserve a life that includes your own voice, not just echoes of others’ needs.

    Explore further:

    🤰Preparing Your Toddler for a New Baby: Honest Expectations and Gentle Transitions for a Strong Sibling Bond

    🌒The Unexpected Challenges of Motherhood: A Dark Night of the Soul

    🌀Breaking the Cycle: How Your Attachment Style Shapes Parenting (and How to Foster Secure Attachment in Your Child)

  • Preparing Your Toddler for a New Baby: Honest Expectations and Gentle Transitions for a Strong Sibling Bond

    Why Lowering Expectations Is Key to a Strong Sibling Bond

    When you’re pregnant with your second baby, it’s tempting to paint a rosy picture of what’s coming. You want your toddler to feel excited, included, and loved—but promising that “the baby will be your new best friend” or “you’ll have someone to play with all day” may backfire.

    Toddlers Think in the Present

    Toddlers live in the now. Telling them they’re getting a playmate sets up expectations for shared fun and immediate companionship. But newborns don’t offer that. Instead, they sleep, nurse, cry, and often take up a huge portion of the caregiver\’s attention. This mismatch between expectation and reality can make the toddler feel:

    • Betrayed: “You said I’d have someone to play with. Why is this baby always crying?”
    • Jealous: “Everyone is fussing over the baby, and I don’t even like him.”
    • Abandoned: “I used to be the center of your world, and now I don’t know where I belong.”

    Research from Dr. T. Berry Brazelton and Dr. Joshua Sparrow emphasizes that when toddlers are told the truth in an emotionally safe way, they are more likely to adapt and develop healthy sibling relationships over time.

    What to Say Instead: Gentle Truth-Telling with Hope

    Being honest doesn’t mean being negative. It means framing reality with emotional safety. Here are phrases you can use to balance realism and connection:

    Examples of What to Say:

    • “When the baby is born, he’ll cry a lot, and he’ll need milk and sleep. That’s how babies grow.”
    • “You might feel a little bored or mad sometimes. That’s okay. We’ll still have special time together.”
    • “One day, your sibling will grow and learn to walk and play. It just takes time.”
    • “You don’t have to love the baby right away. We’re all getting to know each other.”
    • “Even when I’m holding the baby, I always have love for you.”

    Practice Phrases in Advance

    Children learn through repetition. Practice these phrases during playtime, storytime, or when pointing to pictures of babies. You’re helping your toddler develop a narrative of adjustment—a sense that they are safe and seen, no matter how the baby behaves.

    Practical tip: Create a small “script” of go-to sentences you can use when emotions run high. Laminate and hang it in your kitchen or nursery.

    Gentle Timing—Avoiding Major Life Changes Around Birth

    One of the most overlooked ways to support a healthy sibling relationship is by minimizing other major changes in your toddler’s life during the months surrounding the birth. Even small disruptions—like switching beds, weaning abruptly, or starting daycare—can be emotionally destabilizing when layered on top of a new sibling’s arrival.

    Why Timing Matters for Toddlers

    Toddlers thrive on predictability. Their nervous systems are still developing the capacity to self-regulate, and they draw their emotional stability from consistency in caregiving, sleep, routines, and environment.

    According to attachment researcher Dr. Allan Schore, abrupt changes during developmental transitions (like becoming a sibling) can lead to increased emotional reactivity and feelings of insecurity. These are often expressed through tantrums, sleep regressions, and aggression toward the baby—not out of malice, but as a cry for re-connection.

    Avoid These Changes Around the Time of Birth (if possible):

    • Weaning (breast or bottle)
    • Sleep transitions (crib to bed, own room, night weaning)
    • Potty training
    • Starting or stopping daycare
    • Moving house or redecorating their space
    • Cutting back time with a primary caregiver (especially the birthing parent)

    What to Do Instead:

    1. Keep What’s Working—for Now

    If your toddler is still nursing, co-sleeping, or being carried, continue those practices after birth if you can. You don’t have to “prepare them to be more independent” before the baby arrives. In fact, trying to do so may backfire.

    Example:
    If your toddler still nurses, consider tandem nursing (if comfortable). This can reinforce their sense of connection rather than competition.

    2. Babywear and Stay Mobile

    Wearing your newborn gives them the closeness they need while keeping your hands free and your toddler in focus.

    Real-life rhythm: Wear the newborn and head to the park, forest, or a favorite café. Let your toddler lead the adventure while the baby sleeps close to your heart.

    3. Delay What You Can

    If changes must happen (e.g. moving out of the family bed), plan them at least 3 months before or several months afterthe birth so they don’t get emotionally associated with “the baby ruined everything.”

    Gentle Alternatives for Inevitable Transitions:

    • Potty learning? Use play-based, slow exposure, and no pressure.
    • Changing sleep? Co-sleep with both kids for a while if needed. Let the older one leave the family bed when they’re ready.
    • Need to wean? Gradual weaning with connection-rich substitutions (back rubs, song, cuddle) preserves emotional safety.

    Reassuring Phrases for Toddlers Facing Change:

    • “You’re still little too, and I will help you when you need me.”
    • “You don’t have to grow up all at once just because the baby is small.”
    • “We’ll figure this out together, one day at a time.”

    Playing Favorites (on Purpose): Babywear One, Play with the Other

    It may feel counterintuitive—but one of the kindest things you can do for your newborn is to focus on your toddler. The baby doesn’t yet feel rivalry. Your toddler does. In those early weeks and months, the toddler needs to feel they still belong, matter deeply, and have a secure place in your heart and arms.

    Why Babywearing Makes This Possible

    When your newborn is snuggled close in a sling or carrier, they receive:

    • Warmth and regulation through your heartbeat and breath
    • Touch and movement, both calming and developmentally beneficial
    • Bonding and safety from your scent and voice

    At the same time, this leaves your arms, attention, and eye contact free for the child who most needs reassurance right now—your toddler.

    What to Prioritize: Quality Toddler Time

    Example routines:

    • Go outside daily with the toddler—playground, nature walks, tricycle rides—while baby sleeps in the carrier.
    • Involve your toddler in rituals of importance: helping pick out the baby’s clothes, making a snack, or “teaching” the baby a song.
    • Create “spotlight time” every day—even 10 minutes of undivided attention (no phone, no interruptions) can regulate your toddler’s nervous system.

    Research insight: According to Dr. Aletha Solter, uninterrupted one-on-one time with the parent after a sibling’s birth dramatically reduces tantrums and improves sibling bonding over time.

    Make the Baby “Background” for Now

    Rather than trying to get your toddler to engage with the baby immediately, let the baby simply exist around them, while you direct most of your warm attention toward the older child. Let curiosity arise organically, rather than pushing affection or involvement.

    What this might sound like:

    • “I’m here with you. Baby’s just riding along.”
    • “I’m watching your big jump! Baby can’t jump yet, but you can.”
    • “You don’t have to talk to the baby. I’ll talk to you.”

    Let the toddler witness that they are not being replaced—they are still central to the family’s emotional life.

    Bonus Tip: Create a “Toddler First” Morning Ritual

    In those early weeks, your toddler may wake with a full emotional tank of need. If possible, greet them first, even if briefly, before tending to the baby.

    Example:
    Snuggle in bed and say, “I’m so glad to see you this morning. You are my first sunshine today.” Then transition to feeding or diapering the baby.

    Emotion Coaching Big Feelings About the Baby (Jealousy, Regression, Anger)

    It’s normal—even healthy—for toddlers to express mixed or negative feelings about a new sibling. But many parents feel alarmed when their toddler lashes out, regresses, or says things like “Send the baby back.” These reactions are not signs of failure, but rather signs that your toddler is safe enough to express their truth.

    Your Toddler\’s Behavior Is a Message

    According to Dr. Daniel Siegel and Tina Payne Bryson, young children often “flip their lids” when overwhelmed—what looks like bad behavior is often a cry for connection and co-regulation. Your toddler isn’t rejecting the baby—they’re asking:
    “Do I still belong? Am I still safe? Do you still love me?”

    Common Emotional Reactions and How to Support Them

    1. Jealousy or Rivalry

    “Why does the baby always get to go first?”
    “You love the baby more than me!”

    What to say:

    • “It’s hard to share me, isn’t it? You are just as important to me as ever.”
    • “You don’t have to love the baby. I will keep loving both of you.”

    What to do:
    Let them express resentment without guilt-tripping or rushing to fix it. Emotions don’t need correction—they need presence.

    2. Regression

    You may see:

    • Accidents after being potty trained
    • Requesting bottles or baby talk
    • Needing help with things they used to do independently

    What it means: Regression is not manipulation—it’s a coping strategy. Your toddler is saying: “I need to be your baby too.”

    What to do:
    Lean in with empathy, not frustration. Let them be “the baby” sometimes—rock them, swaddle them in a blanket, play peekaboo. This restores their sense of inclusion.

    3. Aggression

    “I want to hit the baby!”
    “I pushed him because he touched my toy.”

    What to say:

    • “You can feel angry. I won’t let you hurt the baby.”
    • “Let’s find a safe way for that anger to move—want to stomp your feet with me?”

    What to do:
    Redirect rather than punish. Offer physical outlets like jumping, drumming, or hitting a pillow. And don’t forget to narrate the feeling: “That’s frustration. It’s okay to feel it.”

    Helpful Phrases to Use Often:

    • “There’s room for both of you in my heart.”
    • “You can always come to me with your feelings.”
    • “You were my baby too, and you still are in many ways.”
    • “It’s okay to wish things were different.”

    Research Backing:

    • Emotion coaching, as studied by John Gottman, helps children develop emotional intelligence and increases resilience.
    • Secure attachment isn’t about removing all distress, but helping the child feel held through it.

    What to Say (and What Not to Say) When Preparing Your Toddler

    The way we talk to toddlers about the new baby shapes their expectations, emotions, and experience. Many well-meaning parents accidentally set their older child up for disappointment by painting an overly rosy picture—one that doesn’t match the baby’s actual behavior.

    Let’s make space for honesty, empathy, and realistic hope.

    What Not to Say:

    1. “You’re going to have a best friend!”

    While sweet, this sets up the idea of an immediate playmate, when in reality, the baby won’t be capable of interaction for many months.

    2. “You’re going to be the best big brother/sister!”

    Though meant as encouragement, this can feel like pressure. Your toddler might interpret this as: “I have to behave perfectly now.”

    3. “You’ll have to help a lot when the baby comes.”

    That sounds like a burden. Toddlers thrive when they feel helpful by choice—not when they\’re made to feel responsible.

    What to Say Instead (with Examples)

    Be honest about what babies are like:

    • “Newborns cry, sleep, and drink milk. That’s their job right now.”
    • “At first, the baby won’t know how to play. But later on, they’ll learn to laugh and crawl—and maybe even chase you!”
    • “Sometimes babies cry a lot. It doesn’t mean something is wrong with you or them—it’s just how they talk.”

    Affirm your toddler’s role without pressure:

    • “You’ll always be my first baby.”
    • “You don’t have to love the baby right away. Feelings take time.”
    • “If you ever feel mad or sad, you can always tell me.”

    Include them meaningfully:

    • “Do you want to help pick out a song for the baby?”
    • “Let’s draw what our family will look like when the baby comes.”

    Special Note: Avoiding Comparison

    Even phrases like “You were such a good baby” can be triggering for a toddler—especially if they’re struggling emotionally.

    Instead, try:

    • “You cried too when you were tiny—that’s what babies do.”
    • “Every baby has their own rhythm. This one’s still learning how to be in the world.”

    Helpful Visuals and Stories

    Many toddlers benefit from simple, developmentally-appropriate books and drawings about babies. Look for books that show the actual behaviors of newborns—not just siblings smiling and playing.

    Examples:

    • “Hello in There!” by Jo Witek
    • “Waiting for Baby” by Rachel Fuller
    • “We Have a Baby” by Cathryn Falwell

    You can also draw a comic-style story featuring your toddler as the main character getting used to life with a baby.

    Preventing Resentment – Practical Routines and Boundaries That Help

    Even when toddlers are well-prepared, resentment can still arise. After all, their world is changing—and the baby takes up a lot of your time and energy. To soften the blow and protect the sibling bond, it\’s crucial to establish routines and boundaries that support both children’s needs.

    1. Minimize Major Changes Before and After the Birth

    If you need to:

    • Wean
    • Change sleeping arrangements
    • Transition out of babywearing
    • Start daycare

    Do it several months before the birth, if possible. Abrupt changes right before or after the baby arrives can be perceived as rejection.

    If change can’t be avoided:

    • Let the toddler grieve.
    • Give choices where possible (“Do you want to sleep in the top or bottom bunk?”).
    • Frame it as a growing-up milestone: “You’re ready for this new bed!”—but without implying they’ve been “replaced.”

    2. Keep the Toddler Close—Even With the Baby

    This is especially powerful:

    • Babywear the newborn so your hands are free to play with your toddler.
    • Breastfeed while reading to or cuddling the older sibling.
    • Invite your toddler into caregiving routines: “Can you pass me the wipes?” or “Want to pick the baby’s socks today?”

    Bonus Tip: Use “team language”:

    • “Let’s help our baby feel safe.”
    • “We’re all learning how to be a family of four.”

    3. Protect Toddler Time

    Even 10–15 minutes of focused one-on-one time each day where the toddler leads (and the phone is away) can make a big difference.

    Name this time something special:

    • “Mommy-and-me time”
    • “Our cuddle corner”
    • “Just us story time”

    They’ll look forward to it and feel reassured that you still see them.

    4. Normalize Mixed Feelings

    Toddlers may say:

    • “I want to throw the baby away.”
    • “I don’t like the baby.”
    • Or act out physically (hitting, regressing).

    Instead of shaming, try:

    • “You’re mad. You wish the baby would go away. That’s okay to feel.”
    • “I won’t let you hit, but I’ll always listen to your feelings.”
    • “Sometimes you wish things were how they used to be. Me too, a little.”

    5. Teach Through Play

    Dolls, stuffed animals, and pretend play can help toddlers:

    • Rehearse baby care
    • Act out frustration safely
    • Practice empathy and gain mastery

    Let them be the caregiver sometimes. They may surprise you.

    6. Accept That You Can’t Prevent All Jealousy

    This isn’t about perfect parenting—it’s about repair, honesty, and connection. The sibling bond is built over years, not days.

    Supporting the Toddler’s Emotional World Through Regression, Aggression, and Grief

    Toddlers grieve the arrival of a sibling—even if they like the baby. They’re mourning the loss of exclusive access to you, the change in routines, and the unpredictability of their world.

    This grief often shows up through behaviors, not words.

    Common Signs of Grief in Toddlers:

    • Regression: Wanting to nurse again, using baby talk, asking to be carried
    • Aggression: Hitting the baby, throwing toys, yelling “Go away!”
    • Withdrawal or Clinginess: Either tuning out or needing you constantly
    • Sleep Changes: Night waking, needing more reassurance
    • Toilet Training Reversals: Accidents after having been dry

    These are not signs of failure. They’re emotional expressions.

    What Helps

    1. Name the Emotion Behind the Behavior

    Instead of correcting, start by connecting:

    • “Are you feeling left out?”
    • “I wonder if you miss when it was just us.”
    • “I hear you. You wish I didn’t have to feed the baby right now.”

    Even when you can’t meet the wish, acknowledging it brings relief.

    2. Offer Safe Ways to Express Big Feelings

    • Give a pillow to punch or a stomp spot for anger.
    • Let them yell into a blanket or pretend a stuffed animal feels the same way they do.
    • Create a “calm corner” with sensory tools: soft fabric, lavender sachets, fidget toys, or music.

    3. Use Stories and Metaphors

    Toddlers learn best through narrative.

    Tell stories like:

    • “Once there was a little bear who had to share his cave…”
    • “This is our nest. Now we have a new chick. It takes time for nests to feel cozy again.”

    You can even make up a bedtime story about your toddler’s day—highlighting their feelings and the ways you stayed connected.

    4. Nurture Through Regression

    Sometimes, the best approach is to welcome the regression.

    If your toddler wants to:

    • Be rocked
    • Be spoon-fed
    • Wear the baby carrier

    …let them, when possible. It doesn’t mean they’re backsliding—it means they’re trying to re-anchor their place in your love.

    5. Build In Rituals of Reconnection

    Even something as small as:

    • Singing a special “just us” song
    • Whispering secrets before bed
    • Making snack time a silly game

    …can remind your toddler that your bond is unbreakable—even as your family grows.

    Quote to Hold:

    “Sometimes, the older child doesn’t need reassurance that they are still loved. They need proof—daily, consistent proof through connection.”
    — Dr. Laura Markham, Aha Parenting

    Sample Scripts for Real-Life Moments

    When you\’re sleep-deprived and juggling two little ones, finding the right words can be hard. This section offers compassionate, toddler-friendly language to help you navigate tricky moments with grace and clarity.

    1. When Your Toddler Says “I Don’t Like the Baby”

    Instead of:
    “Don’t say that, you love him!”

    Try:

    • “It’s okay to feel that way. Sometimes I feel frustrated too.”
    • “You don’t have to like the baby all the time. I’m still here for you.”

    2. When Your Toddler Demands Attention While You’re Feeding the Baby

    Instead of:
    “Not now! I’m busy with the baby.”

    Try:

    • “I see you want me. That’s important to me. Let’s make a plan for what we’ll do when baby is done eating.”
    • “You can sit next to me and we’ll tell a story together while I feed your sibling.”

    3. When You See Signs of Jealousy

    Instead of:
    “Stop being mean to the baby!”

    Try:

    • “You’re having big feelings. You miss when I could hold just you.”
    • “I love both of you, and I always have space for you.”

    4. When Your Toddler Acts Out Physically

    Instead of:
    “Time out!”

    Try:

    • “I won’t let you hit. Let’s find another way to show your feelings.”
    • “Are you needing more time with me? Let’s make that happen after snack time.”

    5. When Your Toddler Wants to Be ‘Baby’ Again

    Instead of:
    “You’re not a baby anymore.”

    Try:

    • “You want to be close to me like when you were little. Let’s cuddle and read like we used to.”
    • “You’re my big kid and my baby forever. Come here, sweetie.”

    6. When You Have to Leave the Room or Care for the Baby First

    Instead of:
    “You’re fine, I’ll be back soon.”

    Try:

    • “I’ll be right back, and then it’s your turn.”
    • “I know it’s hard to wait. I’ll come get you when I’m done with the baby.”

    These scripts are meant to be adapted to your voice, your child, and your real-life circumstances. You don’t have to be perfect—just present, curious, and kind.

    Free printable resource: Easing the Shift from One to Two

    Welcoming a new baby is a tender, beautiful transition—but for a toddler, it can feel confusing, overwhelming, or even threatening. The relationship between siblings begins long before the baby can smile or play, and how we talk about the change can make a lasting difference.

    This printable resource offers simple, compassionate tools to help your toddler understand what’s coming, feel emotionally safe, and begin building connection with their baby sibling from the very start. It includes:

    • A gentle script to introduce the newborn
    • A checklist of toddler-prep activities for the final trimester
    • Ritual ideas for connection and sibling bonding
    • Real-life scripts for common daily challenges
    • Calming affirmations for you, the parent, as you navigate both children’s needs

    Whether you’re in your final weeks of pregnancy or adjusting to life with two, this guide supports you in nurturing both connection and resilience in your growing family.

    Download for free

    Further Support: Books & Resources

    Parenting through big transitions calls for support, insight, and a reminder that you\’re not alone. Here are some thoughtful, research-based resources to deepen your journey:

    Books

    • Siblings Without Rivalry by Adele Faber & Elaine Mazlish – Practical tools and examples for supporting healthy sibling relationships from day one.
    • Peaceful Parent, Happy Siblings by Dr. Laura Markham – A neuroscience-informed approach to reducing conflict and building sibling connection.
    • The Second Baby Book by Sarah Ockwell-Smith – Gentle and realistic advice for preparing your toddler emotionally and practically for a new baby.
    • How to Talk So Little Kids Will Listen by Joanna Faber & Julie King – Filled with scripts and problem-solving ideas for everyday parenting struggles.

    YouTube Channels

    • Janet Lansbury – Elevating Childcare: Focuses on respectful parenting and preparing toddlers for big changes.
    • The Parenting Junkie: Covers mindful parenting, sibling dynamics, and setting up a peaceful home environment.
    • Dr. Laura Markham (Aha! Parenting): Occasional interviews and talks on emotional regulation and sibling bonding.

    These resources align beautifully with a connected and emotionally attuned parenting style—one that honors the needs of both your toddler and your newborn, and supports you in the middle.

    Closing Thoughts: A Gentle Foundation That Lasts

    Preparing your toddler for a new sibling doesn’t require perfection—it asks for presence, honesty, and patience. Lowering expectations, staying emotionally available, and protecting their sense of safety are not only practical steps, but foundational acts of love.

    The early days may be messy and intense, but with time and care, a deep sibling bond can bloom. By seeing the transition through your toddler’s eyes and giving them tools to process their emotions, you’re laying the groundwork for lifelong connection—not just between siblings, but between you and each of your children.

    Remember: you don’t have to do this alone. Our printable guide is here to support you.

    Explore further:

    🥰Motherhood as a Journey of Growth: Embracing the Transition from Maiden to Mother

    🌀Breaking the Cycle: How Your Attachment Style Shapes Parenting (and How to Foster Secure Attachment in Your Child)

    📝From Maiden to Mother: A Journaling Guide for Embracing the Transition

  • The Heroine’s Journey Through Motherhood: A Path of Healing for Emotionally Neglected Daughters

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    The heroine’s journey through motherhood

    When Motherhood Becomes a Portal

    Becoming a mother is often painted as a blissful beginning, yet for many women—especially those who grew up with unmet emotional needs—it is far more than that. It’s a profound inner journey. A descent, a cracking open, and, if we dare to walk through it with awareness, a return to wholeness.

    This is not just a story of feeding and soothing. It’s the archetypal Heroine’s Journey: the call, the resistance, the descent into the unknown, and the hard-earned return—not as the same person, but as someone reborn.

    If you were raised without emotional safety, validation, or nurturing, motherhood can awaken what’s been buried.It can expose the emotional void and bring to light the grief you’ve long avoided. But it can also become the very path through which you heal.

    In this article, we’ll walk this journey stage by stage, grounded in archetypal psychology and interwoven with tools for healing. Each section includes:

    • A reflection on the stage and its emotional landscape
    • Journal prompts to help you explore it personally
    • Self-care practices to regulate and nurture yourself
    • A mythological or story-based image to anchor you
    • And toward the end—a collection of resources to continue your journey

    You don’t have to walk this path alone.

    The Ordinary World – Before the Call

    Before pregnancy, there’s often a quiet belief: “I’ve survived just fine. I’m strong. I don’t need anyone.”

    Many CEN daughters are emotionally self-sufficient, high-functioning, and even disconnected from their own bodies. They may carry an invisible grief—longing for something unnamed, feeling like something was always missing but unsure what it was. They often don’t associate this with childhood, let alone expect motherhood to change it.

    But something stirs. A longing. A curiosity. A fear.

    Journal Prompts:

    • When I think back to myself before becoming a mother, what beliefs did I hold about emotions and vulnerability?
    • In what ways did I learn to survive by staying emotionally self-contained?
    • Did I ever long to be mothered? If so, what did that look or feel like?

    Self-Care Practice:
    Mirror Touch — Stand or sit in front of a mirror. Gently place a hand over your heart and look into your own eyes. Say: “I see you. You’ve come so far.” Breathe. Repeat a few times.

    Mythological Parallel:
    Artemis, the maiden goddess of the wild, lives freely and untouched. Independent, capable—and emotionally walled off. Before the journey, she is whole in her aloneness. But life always calls us into deeper relational truth.

    The Call to Adventure – Conception or the Desire to Mother

    The call often comes quietly. A pregnancy test. A sudden longing. A vision of motherhood that surprises even you. Or perhaps a child arrives unplanned, and the body says “yes” before the mind can catch up.

    For many emotionally neglected women, this moment is complicated. It’s not just a call to motherhood—it’s a call into the unknown, into emotional territory never mapped before.

    There’s often a deep tenderness hidden beneath the fear:
    Can I really offer love I never received? Can I mother without a model? Can I trust myself?

    This stage is filled with ambivalence. Excitement mixed with dread. Hope tangled with old wounds.

    But that’s the nature of the Call. It doesn’t arrive when we’re ready. It arrives when we’re open.

    Journal Prompts:

    • What was my first emotional reaction to becoming a mother (or to the idea of it)?
    • What did I fear I wouldn’t be able to give my child?
    • Did this moment stir grief, or awaken unmet needs from my own childhood?

    Self-Care Practice:
    Womb Listening — Whether pregnant or not, place your hands over your womb. Close your eyes and ask: What do you need right now? Breathe and wait. Let the body speak.

    Mythological Parallel:
    Demeter, goddess of harvest, becomes a mother to Persephone. But when Persephone is taken, her grief halts all growth. Her story reminds us that motherhood awakens our fiercest love—and our deepest fear of loss.

    Refusing the Call – Fear, Anxiety, and Self-Doubt

    The moment we say yes to motherhood—whether through conception, birth, or even just the idea of becoming a mother—there’s often an immediate emotional backlash.

    “I’m not ready.” “What have I done?” “I can’t do this.”

    This is the Refusal of the Call. Not because we are weak—but because the path touches every hidden wound.
    For the CEN woman, this is where deep self-doubt awakens. Without a solid emotional blueprint, fear rushes in.

    • Fear of inadequacy
    • Fear of being like your mother
    • Fear of failing your child in unseen ways
    • Fear of needing others too much

    You may find yourself over-preparing or emotionally freezing. Or feeling numb, like it’s happening to someone else. This is a trauma response—and a very human one.

    The refusal is part of the story. Don’t resist it. Witness it.

    Journal Prompts:

    • What was I most afraid of in the early stages of motherhood?
    • Did I judge myself for these feelings? Who else’s voice was in my head?
    • When I think of “being a mother,” what negative associations arise?

    Self-Care Practice:
    Fear Letter — Write a letter from your fear, giving it a voice. Let it speak without censoring. Then write a response from your wiser, grounded self. Burn or safely release both when ready.

    Mythological Parallel:
    In many myths, the hero or heroine turns away from the journey at first. Even Inanna, queen of heaven, trembles before descending into the underworld. The refusal is not failure—it is preparation for transformation.

    Crossing the Threshold – Birth and Initiation

    This is the moment the world changes forever.

    Birth—whether smooth or traumatic, natural or surgical—is a threshold experience. Something dies, and something is born. The woman you were dissolves, and the mother begins to emerge.

    But it’s not just about the baby’s arrival. It’s the shattering of who you thought you were.
    The identity, the control, the emotional coping mechanisms—they often no longer work.
    For CEN women, this is particularly intense. Without a strong model for emotional attunement or comfort, the raw vulnerability of birth and early postpartum can feel like drowning.

    Tears, rage, numbness, confusion—they’re all part of the initiation. You may grieve not having been mothered this way. You may feel shame for not “bonding instantly.” You may feel deeply alone, even when surrounded by others.

    This is the descent. And it’s holy.

    Journal Prompts:

    • What emotions did I feel during birth and the early postpartum?
    • What shocked me the most about this stage?
    • What old wounds did this initiation awaken?

    Self-Care Practice:
    Postpartum Altar — Create a small space with objects that represent your transition: a baby photo, a shell, a stone, a flower, something broken and beautiful. Sit with it each day for a few minutes. Breathe. Honor the shift.

    Mythological Parallel:
    Inanna’s descent into the underworld strips her of everything: power, jewels, dignity. Only then can she meet her shadow sister. Birth does this too—it brings us to our knees so we can rise true.

    The Belly of the Whale – Isolation, Overwhelm, and the Breaking Point

    This is the moment no one warns you about.

    Not the birth. Not the sleepless nights. But the silent scream of “I’ve lost myself.”
    The ache of sitting in a dark room with a crying baby, not knowing if you’ll ever feel like “you” again.
    The quiet resentment toward your partner, your body, or even the child you love so fiercely.
    And the shame that follows all of it.

    This stage can last weeks or years. It may be peppered with smiles and baby giggles—but inside, it feels like you’ve been swallowed whole.

    For the CEN mother, the inner critic is relentless here.

    • “You’re too emotional.”
    • “You should be grateful.”
    • “Don’t need so much.”
      These are the inherited voices. They keep you from reaching out. They convince you that your pain is weakness.

    But this dark, painful chamber is where the magic happens. It’s not about escaping it—it’s about letting yourself be remade by it.

    Journal Prompts:

    • What parts of myself have I lost—or am afraid of losing?
    • When I feel overwhelmed, what do I most long for?
    • What would it mean to allow myself to be supported here?

    Self-Care Practice:
    Name the Need — When overwhelmed, pause and ask: “What do I need right now?” Choose one word: sleep, touch, water, silence, help, validation. Then ask: Can I offer that to myself, or ask someone for it?

    Mythological Parallel:
    Jonah in the belly of the whale. Inanna hanging lifeless on the hook. Psyche performing impossible tasks. These stories echo the truth: the deepest darkness is not punishment—it’s preparation.

    It’s here that the old ways die, and the new self begins to form.

    The Meeting with the Inner Guide – The Reclamation of the Self

    After the darkness of the whale’s belly, something unexpected happens. Not a rescue. Not a miracle.
    A whisper.

    A quiet moment—maybe while nursing in the moonlight, or crying on the kitchen floor—when you hear your own voice again.
    “I’m still here.”

    This is the moment the Inner Guide awakens.

    For the CEN mother, this voice may have been silent your whole life. You were taught to suppress needs, to stay small, to disappear emotionally. But now—because your child needs a whole mother—you begin reclaiming your wholeness.

    You realize that your pain holds wisdom. That your body has something to say. That your own mother’s story is not your destiny.

    This guide might speak in therapy. Or in journaling. Or in your dreams. It might arrive in the form of rage—or tenderness. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you listen.

    This is your rebirth.

    Journal Prompts:

    • What truths about myself am I beginning to remember?
    • What does my inner guide sound like? How is she different from the inner critic?
    • What kind of mother do I want to be—and what kind of woman?

    Self-Care Practice:
    Mirror Work — Each morning or night, stand before a mirror. Look into your eyes and say: “I see you. You matter. You are learning to love.” Start with one minute a day. You may cry. That’s healing.

    Mythological Parallel:
    In Psyche’s final task, she opens a box meant for Persephone and falls into a death-like sleep. But she is awakened by Love. In every myth, the inner guide is born when we face death and choose life.

    The Return – Integration, Reconnection, and Sharing the Wisdom

    This is not a neat ending. There is no finish line. But something has shifted.

    You begin to feel the ground beneath your feet again.
    Your baby is growing. You are growing.
    You laugh without guilt. You cry without shame. You begin to speak honestly with those closest to you.

    You’re not the same—and you’re not trying to be. You’ve walked through grief, fear, exhaustion, rage, and rebirth.
    You have met the parts of yourself that were silenced long ago—and you chose to stay.

    The Return is about integration:

    • Reclaiming emotional needs without apology
    • Offering empathy to your partner while also setting boundaries
    • Trusting your body and intuition
    • Living in rhythm, not reaction

    And most of all, it’s about offering your wisdom—not as advice, but as embodied presence.

    For many CEN mothers, this return is also the beginning of reparenting yourself.
    And that, too, is an act of mothering.

    Journal Prompts:

    • What have I learned that I would want to pass on to other mothers?
    • What parts of me are now more alive than before motherhood?
    • What would returning “home” to myself look like?

    Self-Care Practice:
    Offer It Forward — When you feel resourced, offer one small gesture of compassion to another mother: a knowing look, a kind text, a homemade meal. Each act anchors your return.

    Mythological Parallel:
    In The Odyssey, Odysseus returns home not as a conquering hero, but as a man changed by suffering and love. The return is not about glory. It’s about presence.
    So too, the mother returns—not to who she was, but to who she has become.

    Conclusion – The Journey That Transforms Us All

    Motherhood is not just a role—it’s a transformation.

    It invites the CEN woman into the wildest healing journey of her life. Not by force, but by invitation.
    It asks her to meet her own pain with compassion. To grieve. To re-mother. To become whole.

    This is not the path of perfection.
    It is the path of return.
    And return is sacred.

    You are the heroine.
    You are the guide your child needs.
    And slowly, tenderly—you are becoming the mother you never had.

    BONUS: The Mother’s Journey Companion

    A Journal & Practice Guide for the Emotionally Neglected Mother

    A printable free PDF companion with:

    • All stage-specific journal prompts
    • Simple daily self-care practices
    • Myth quotes

    How to Use This Companion

    • Choose one stage at a time—no need to follow the order.
    • Reflect with journal prompts during quiet moments (nap time, after bedtime, early mornings).
    • Try one self-care practice per week—repeat what soothes you.
    • Reread myth quotes as affirmations or meditations.
    Download for free

    Resource List

    A curated guide for further exploration into motherhood, mythology, healing from emotional neglect, and the heroine’s journey.

    Books & Articles

    • “The Heroine’s Journey” by Maureen Murdock – A foundational text that reframes Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey through the feminine psyche.
    • “Motherwhelmed” by Beth Berry – Explores the emotional and systemic load of modern motherhood, especially for sensitive, introspective mothers.
    • “The Drama of the Gifted Child” by Alice Miller – For unpacking childhood emotional neglect and its long-term effects.
    • “The Wild Mother” by Michaela Boehm – Bridging myth, sensuality, and motherhood.
    • “Untamed” by Glennon Doyle – A modern call to reclaim selfhood in the midst of social and maternal conditioning.
    • “The Fourth Trimester” by Kimberly Ann Johnson – A practical and emotional guide to postpartum healing.

    Mythology Sources

    • The Descent of Inanna – Ancient Sumerian text, translated by Diane Wolkstein & Samuel Noah Kramer
    • Psyche and Eros – Retold in The Golden Ass by Apuleius (2nd century AD)
    • Demeter and Persephone – As told in the Homeric Hymns

    Podcasts & Talks

    • Motherhood Sessions with Alexandra Sacks (psychodynamic perspective on motherhood)
    • The Mythic Masculine podcast (explores feminine and masculine archetypes)

    Q&A: The Heroine’s Journey and Motherhood

    Q1: What is the heroine’s journey in motherhood?
    The heroine’s journey is a psychological and spiritual map of transformation. In motherhood, it reflects the inner metamorphosis that happens as a woman moves through conception, pregnancy, birth, postpartum, and the redefinition of self. Unlike the hero’s journey, it emphasizes descent, surrender, and cyclical integration — not conquest or external success.

    Q2: How is this journey different for mothers who experienced emotional neglect?
    Mothers who grew up emotionally neglected may feel disoriented, hyper-responsible, or disconnected in early motherhood. The heroine’s journey offers a compassionate map — one that validates confusion, rage, numbness, and grief as natural parts of transformation, rather than failures.

    Q3: Can this journey apply to adoptive mothers, stepmothers, or non-birthing parents?
    Absolutely. The journey is not about biology but inner evolution. Any caregiver or woman undergoing deep identity shifts and reorienting toward care, presence, and self-healing can relate to this map.

    Q4: What if I don’t feel transformed — just exhausted?
    Then you are in the thick of the journey. Transformation often doesn’t feel like a lightning bolt — it feels like unraveling. This guide is here to hold space for exactly that: the slow, aching alchemy of change.

    Q5: How do I revisit these stages when I feel lost again?
    You can move through this journey more than once. Keep the journal prompts and practices nearby. Let yourself move non-linearly. Some seasons are for descent; others are for emerging.

    Explore further:

    The Rewards of Motherhood: Finding Meaning, Growth, and Everyday Magic

    From Maiden to Mother: A Journaling Guide for Embracing the Transition

    Motherhood as a Journey of Growth: Embracing the Transition from Maiden to Mother

  • Preventing Attachment Issues: Supporting Children of Fearful-Avoidant Parents (+free PDF)

    Introduction: The Pain of Seeing Harmful Parenting Patterns

    It’s one thing to read about attachment wounds in books. It’s another to witness them unfolding in real time, especially when a child’s emotional safety is at stake.

    Imagine this: You’re at a playground, and a toddler keeps looking back at his mother for reassurance. She responds by ignoring him, turning away, or even pushing him toward other children with an anxious “Go play! You’ll never make friends if you cling to me!” The child hesitates, his distress growing, and the mother sighs in frustration. Later, when he cries at bedtime, she insists he “self-soothe,” despite his escalating panic.

    If you’re healing from fearful-avoidant attachment yourself, seeing another parent unknowingly pass down the very patterns you’re working so hard to unlearn can be infuriating and heartbreaking. Your body may react with a surge of rage, grief, or helplessness—especially if you see clear signs that their child is developing the very attachment struggles they fear.

    But what can you actually do? How do you regulate your own emotions around this? And if you want to help, how do you communicate in a way that won’t make the other parent defensive?

    In this article, we’ll explore:

    • How to manage your own emotional response (so you don’t spiral into anger or despair)
    • Why fearful-avoidant parents unintentionally create what they fear most
    • Ways to gently open their perspective without triggering shame
    • The science of attachment and how to explain it simply
    • When to intervene—and when to accept that you can’t control everything

    Let’s start by understanding your own reaction first.

    Regulating Your Own Emotional Response

    Before addressing the other parent, it’s crucial to attune to your own nervous system. Witnessing attachment wounds in real time can activate deep emotional pain—especially if you were once that child, longing for attunement but met with distance or fear.

    Why This Hits So Hard: Your Body Remembers

    According to polyvagal theory (Porges, 2011), when we see a child in distress, our nervous system may automatically mirror that distress, especially if we’ve experienced similar pain. If we haven’t yet processed our own wounds, we might react from a fight response (anger, judgment, a strong urge to “rescue”) or a shutdown response (hopelessness, emotional numbness, or dissociation).

    This is not a sign that you’re overreacting—it’s a sign that your system is deeply empathetic and recognizing something familiar.

    How to Regulate in the Moment

    Instead of letting these emotions spiral, try:

    1. Pausing to Notice Your Reaction
      • Where do you feel this in your body?
      • Are you clenching your jaw? Feeling a pit in your stomach?
      • What does this reaction remind you of in your own past?
    2. Grounding Yourself Physically
      • Slow your breathing (inhale for 4 counts, exhale for 8).
      • If your hands are shaking, press them against a solid surface.
      • Feel your feet on the ground to reorient to the present.
    3. Using Self-Talk to Shift Perspective
      • Instead of: “This is unbearable! This poor child!” → Try: “This is painful to witness, but I can stay regulated and compassionate.”
      • Instead of: “This parent is ruining their child!” → Try: “They are repeating what they know, just as I once did.”
    4. Giving Yourself an Outlet
      • Later, journal about your feelings.
      • Voice-note a trusted friend who understands attachment healing.
      • If the feelings are intense, process them with an inner parts dialogue (IFS-style) or through somatic movement.

    Once you’re more grounded, you can assess whether and how to approach the other parent. But first, let’s unpack why fearful-avoidant parents often create what they fear most—and why shaming them will never work.

    Understanding the Fearful-Avoidant Parent: Why They Create What They Fear

    A parent with a fearful-avoidant attachment style often carries conflicting fears about connection. On one hand, they deeply fear being abandoned or unwanted. On the other, they feel overwhelmed by closeness and emotional dependency—which can make parenting especially triggering.

    What This Looks Like in Parenting

    Because they fear their child becoming too dependent or too anxious, they may:

    • Sleep train early and rigidly, fearing their child will become “too needy” if comforted at night.
    • Encourage independence too soon, pushing their toddler to interact socially before they’re ready.
    • Ignore clinginess or distress, hoping the child will “toughen up” instead of realizing this increases fear.
    • Struggle with emotional availability, becoming distant or inconsistent in moments of distress.

    Ironically, these very behaviors reinforce what they fear:

    • The child becomes more clingy because their emotional needs aren’t being met.
    • The child becomes more socially anxious because they aren’t given a secure base from which to explore.

    This parent is not acting out of malice—they are repeating what was done to them. They were likely given the message that needing comfort was weak or that being “too soft” would make them fail in the world. They may still believe that.

    How to Approach the Fearful-Avoidant Parent Without Making Them Defensive

    Fearful-avoidant individuals tend to shut down or lash out when they feel criticized. Directly telling them, “You’re making your child anxious” or “You’re damaging their attachment” is unlikely to go well. Instead, use strategies based on motivational interviewing, gentle curiosity, and offering safety rather than judgment.

    1. Start from Shared Concerns

    A great way to open dialogue is by mirroring their fears back to them—without blame.

    Instead of: “You’re making your child more fearful by pushing them.”
    Try: “I totally get why you want your child to be confident. It’s so hard to see them struggle socially.”

    Instead of: “Ignoring crying doesn’t teach independence.”
    Try: “I used to think that comforting too much would make kids more dependent, too. But I read something interesting about how secure attachment actually builds independence long-term.”

    By aligning with their desire for a strong, confident child, you reduce defensiveness.

    2. Share Small Insights, Not Big Corrections

    People are much more open to gentle shifts in perspective than being told they’re wrong. Instead of lecturing, share your own experiences or a small, digestible fact.

    Example 1: If they say, “I don’t want my child to be one of those kids who clings to their mom all the time.”
    You could respond: “It’s interesting—apparently, kids who get their emotional needs met early actually become more independent later. I thought it was the opposite for a long time.”

    Example 2: If they say, “I need my child to sleep alone. They’ll never learn if I keep coddling them.”
    You could say: “Yeah, sleep was such a struggle for us too. I came across something on how co-regulation at night actually strengthens nervous system resilience in the long run. I was surprised!”

    This plants a seed without confrontation.

    3. Acknowledge Their Own Pain

    Fearful-avoidant parents often parent from fear—but underneath that fear is pain. They weren’t emotionally supported as children. They had to self-soothe before they were developmentally ready. They might have been shamed for needing love.

    If you sense an opening, you can gently reflect this:

    • “It’s so hard when we didn’t get that kind of support ourselves.”
    • “I know for me, it felt scary at first to parent differently than how I was raised.”
    • “It’s tough when we’re just trying to do what we think is best, and there’s so much conflicting information out there.”

    This validates their inner wounds without blaming them.

    Once you’ve approached the conversation with warmth rather than judgment, they may be more open to gradual shifts in perspective. But ultimately, you can’t force someone to change—you can only offer gentle insights and let them process in their own time.

    Now, let’s explore how to support yourself emotionally when you feel powerless in these situations.

    Regulating Your Own Reactions: Managing Rage, Grief, and Helplessness

    Watching another parent unintentionally create the very fears they are trying to prevent can be deeply triggering—especially if you’re healing from a fearful-avoidant attachment style yourself. It can stir up rage, grief, and powerlessness:

    • Rage at the unfairness of it all—why must another child go through what you did?
    • Grief for your own childhood, seeing the same patterns play out in front of you.
    • Helplessness because no matter how much you want to intervene, you can’t force change.

    These emotions are valid. The key is learning how to hold them without letting them consume you.

    1. Recognizing Projection: Are You Seeing Your Own Past?

    One of the hardest truths in healing is that sometimes, we react not just to what’s happening—but to what it reminds us of.

    If another parent’s behavior sparks overwhelming emotion, ask yourself:

    • Am I reacting to their child’s suffering—or to my own unhealed pain?
    • Is this anger directed at them—or at the adults who failed me as a child?
    • Do I feel helpless now because I was helpless then?

    This doesn’t mean your feelings are wrong. But separating past pain from present reality can help you respond more intentionally, rather than being swallowed by emotion.

    2. Using Somatic Regulation to Move Through Big Emotions

    Since fearful-avoidant wounding is stored not just in thoughts but in the body, purely rationalizing won’t be enough. You need to physically discharge the overwhelming emotions.

    Try:

    • Shaking out the body (releases stored fight-or-flight energy)
    • Breathwork for nervous system regulation (slow exhale longer than inhale)
    • Holding your heart or self-soothing touch (signals safety)
    • Grounding techniques (barefoot walking, holding a weighted object)

    This keeps the anger and grief from becoming stuck in your body.

    3. Allowing Space for Grief Without Getting Stuck

    It’s okay to grieve the child you once were—the one who needed what this child needs now. Let yourself feel it. Write it out. Speak to your younger self.

    But don’t let grief turn into despair. Balance it with:

    • Hope—You are breaking the cycle in your own family.
    • Compassion—You are feeling this deeply because you care.
    • Perspective—Every child’s story is still being written. This moment isn’t the end.

    4. Choosing Your Battles: Not Every Situation Needs Your Intervention

    When you see a child suffering, your instinct may be to do something, say something, fix it.

    But ask yourself:

    • Would saying something actually help right now—or just make me feel better?
    • Is this a moment for education—or for acceptance?
    • Is my energy better spent on my own child, my own healing?

    You don’t have to carry every injustice. Pick what’s within your power, and release the rest.

    Helping Without Creating Conflict: How to Gently Support the Parent and Child

    Now that you’ve worked through your own emotional response, the next challenge is how to actually help—without triggering defensiveness in the other parent.

    This is delicate, because direct confrontation rarely works when a parent is unknowingly acting out of fear. Instead, we need an approach that fosters curiosity, safety, and gradual shifts in perspective.

    1. Understanding Why This Parent Is Acting This Way

    The mother you’re observing is not acting out of cruelty—but out of fear. She believes:

    • If she comforts her child too much, they’ll become overly dependent.
    • If she lets them sleep in her bed, they’ll never be independent.
    • If she lets them avoid social situations, they’ll always struggle socially.

    Ironically, her approach is creating the very fears she’s trying to prevent—but she doesn’t see it yet.

    This is classic fearful-avoidant parenting:

    • They fear their child’s dependency, so they push them away—making the child more anxious.
    • They fear their child’s social struggles, so they force interactions—making the child resist socializing.

    She is trying to raise a strong, independent child—but because she never learned secure attachment herself, she is going about it in a way that backfires.

    Understanding this helps you approach her with compassion, not judgment.

    2. The Art of Gentle Influence: “What If?” Instead of “You Should”

    People rarely change when they feel criticized. Instead of saying, “What you’re doing is harmful,” try planting seeds of curiosity.

    Some ways to do this:

    • Share a personal story.
      • Instead of saying, “You shouldn’t sleep train,” you might say,
        “I used to think responding at night would make my baby clingy, but I noticed that when I stopped resisting it, he actually became more independent.”
    • Ask a curiosity-provoking question.
      • “Have you ever noticed how [child’s name] gets extra clingy after being left alone? It’s interesting how some kids react that way.”
    • Make an observation instead of a judgment.
      • “It’s so tough when kids get scared of social situations. I read that sometimes pushing them actually increases their fear. It’s counterintuitive, isn’t it?”

    These small moments can spark internal reflection without triggering defensiveness.

    3. Strengthening the Child’s Resilience in Subtle Ways

    Even if you can’t change the parent, you can be a secure presence for the child.

    • Validate their emotions when they’re upset: “It’s okay to feel scared. You don’t have to rush.”
    • Give them space to initiate social interactions rather than forcing them.
    • Model warmth and responsiveness so they experience safety in another adult relationship.

    You may not be able to change their home environment—but every moment of attuned connection helps shape their nervous system.

    4. Accepting What’s Not in Your Control

    It’s painful to watch a child struggle in ways that could be prevented. But some things are beyond your power to fix.

    Instead of focusing on what you can’t change, ask:

    • What’s the best way I can support this child, even in small ways?
    • How can I model a secure presence, even if their parent doesn’t yet?
    • How can I release what I can’t control, without carrying resentment?

    Your calm, steady presence—both for yourself and for them—is more powerful than you think.

    Practical Exercises: Regulating Yourself, Engaging the Parent, and Supporting the Child

    Now that we’ve explored the psychology behind these dynamics, let’s turn theory into action. These practical exerciseswill help you:

    • Regulate your own emotional response.
    • Engage the parent in a way that fosters openness, not defensiveness.
    • Support the child in subtle but meaningful ways.

    1. Regulating Your Own Emotions: Self-Compassion & Releasing the Grip of Helplessness

    Watching a child struggle when you know things could be different is painful. Before you act, it’s crucial to process your own emotions first.

    Exercise: The “Compassionate Witness” Practice

    Goal: Acknowledge and release your frustration so it doesn’t fuel reactive behavior.

    1. Find a quiet space and take a few deep breaths.
    2. Imagine yourself observing this situation from a calm, compassionate perspective.
    3. Ask yourself:
      • What am I feeling right now? (Helplessness, frustration, grief, anger?)
      • Where do I feel this in my body?
      • If this emotion could speak, what would it say?
    4. Now, shift perspective:
      • Imagine an older, wiser version of yourself gently comforting the part of you that feels this pain.
      • Offer yourself words of understanding, e.g., “It’s hard to witness this. You care deeply, and that’s why this hurts.”
    5. Finally, take three slow breaths and release the emotional intensity, reminding yourself:
      • I don’t have to fix everything. Small acts of care make a difference.

    By acknowledging and releasing your own distress first, you can engage from a place of clarity rather than emotional reactivity.

    2. Engaging the Parent: Planting Seeds of Awareness

    Many parents in this situation are defensive—not because they don’t care, but because they’re afraid of “failing” as parents. Instead of confronting them directly, try curiosity-driven dialogue.

    Exercise: “The Gentle Mirror” Approach

    Goal: Help the parent notice the patterns without making them feel criticized.

    1. Observe the child’s behavior in a neutral moment.
      • Example: You see the child become extra clingy after being left alone.
    2. Mirror it back to the parent as an open-ended observation.
      • “I noticed [child’s name] gets extra attached after some alone time. It’s interesting how kids respond differently to that.”
    3. Leave space for the parent to respond.
      • If they engage, ask gentle follow-ups:
        • “Have you noticed that pattern too?”
        • “I read something fascinating about how independence develops differently than we expect—would you be interested?”
    4. If they shut down, back off—you’ve still planted a seed.

    By mirroring the child’s response in a neutral, non-judgmental way, you allow the parent to arrive at insights on their own—which is far more effective than direct correction.

    3. Supporting the Child: Creating Micro-Moments of Secure Attachment

    Even if you can’t change their home life, you can still provide a sense of safety and connection when you interact with them.

    Exercise: “Micro-Moments of Secure Attachment”

    Goal: Help the child experience small but meaningful moments of attunement.

    1. When the child is distressed, acknowledge their feelings rather than dismissing them.
      • Instead of “You’re fine, go play,” try “I see that you’re feeling unsure. You can take your time.”
    2. Allow them to warm up socially at their own pace.
      • Example: If they hesitate before joining a group, say “You can watch for a while, and when you’re ready, you can join.”
    3. Offer playful connection rather than pressure.
      • If they seem resistant to engaging with other kids, try joining them in play yourself first—this creates a bridge of safety.

    Every moment of attuned connection builds resilience in their nervous system, even if their home life isn’t ideal.

    Final Thoughts: Your Influence Is Greater Than You Think

    You may not be able to change this child’s home environment overnight, but your presence, compassion, and small interventions can make a real impact.

    Even if the parent never fully changes, even if the child’s attachment struggles persist—the safe, attuned interactions you offer them matter.

    Your role isn’t to control, fix, or force change. Your role is to be a steady, compassionate presence. That alone is powerful.

    Next Steps: A Free Guide for Navigating These Situations

    To help you feel more confident in these interactions, I’ve created a free downloadable guide:

    📌 “Supporting Secure Attachment Without Overstepping: A Practical Guide for Parents and Caregivers”

    Inside, you’ll find:
    ✅ Step-by-step scripts for engaging a parent without triggering defensiveness
    ✅ Practical exercises for regulating your own emotions when witnessing harmful dynamics
    ✅ A guide to recognizing the subtle signs of attachment distress
    ✅ Real-life case studies with solutions you can apply

    Download guide

    By equipping yourself with these tools, you can support children and parents alike with compassion, wisdom, and patience.

    Remember, every small, positive interaction counts towards creating a more secure and emotionally healthy future for the children in your life.

    References f:

    • Bowlby, J. (1988). A Secure Base: Parent-Child Attachment and Healthy Human Development. Basic Books.
    • Ainsworth, M. (1978). Patterns of Attachment: A Psychological Study of the Strange Situation. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
    • Siegel, D. J., & Bryson, T. P. (2012). The Whole-Brain Child: 12 Revolutionary Strategies to Nurture Your Child’s Developing Mind. Delacorte Press.
    • Porges, S. W. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation. W.W. Norton & Company.
    • Schore, A. N. (2001). The effects of early relational trauma on right brain development, affect regulation, and infant mental health. Infant Mental Health Journal, 22(1-2), 201-269.
    • Tronick, E. Z. (2007). The Neurobehavioral and Social-Emotional Development of Infants and Children. Norton.
    • Main, M., & Solomon, J. (1990). Procedures for identifying infants as disorganized/disoriented during the Ainsworth Strange Situation. In M. T. Greenberg, D. Cichetti, & E. M. Cummings (Eds.), Attachment in the preschool years: Theory, research, and intervention (pp. 121-160). University of Chicago Press.

  • Why Your Toddler’s Rough Play Is Healthy (And Why It Feels Uncomfortable for You) +free PDF

    Introduction: The Guilt of Watching Your Toddler Play Roughly

    You’re at the playground, watching your child play with a friend. At first, they’re chasing each other, giggling, and rolling in the grass. Then, your toddler starts playfully hitting or shoving. Both children are still laughing—but something inside you tightens. Should you step in? Should you tell them to stop? What if other parents are judging you for not intervening?

    Many parents, especially those with a history of being shamed for their own assertiveness or aggression, feel immediate discomfort when they see their child engaging in rough-and-tumble play. If you’ve ever felt guilt, fear, or even irritation when your toddler plays this way, you’re not alone.

    The instinct to correct or stop rough play often comes from a deep-seated belief that any form of aggression is bad. But what if this kind of play isn’t just normal—it’s actually necessary for healthy development?

    Before we explore why, let’s first define what rough play actually is.

    What Is Rough-and-Tumble Play? (And Why It’s Not the Same as Aggression)

    Rough-and-tumble play is a universal behavior found in children (and even animals) across cultures. It includes activities like:

    • Wrestling
    • Play fighting
    • Chasing and tumbling
    • Playful pushing and shoving

    What makes it play rather than real aggression? The key indicators include:
    ✅ Both children are engaged and willing participants
    ✅ There is laughter and excitement, not distress
    ✅ The play has a give-and-take dynamic (not one child dominating)
    ✅ If one child signals they want to stop, the other respects it

    When these elements are present, rough play is a way for children to learn social boundaries, practice self-regulation, and develop confidence.

    Why Rough Play Is Essential for Development

    Studies show that rough-and-tumble play is linked to:
    ✔️ Better emotional regulation – Kids who engage in active play are better at managing frustration and adapting to challenges (Pellis & Pellis, 2013).
    ✔️ Increased social intelligence – Through play fighting, children learn how to read social cues and negotiate boundaries (Jarvis, 2007).
    ✔️ Higher self-confidence – Exploring power in a safe setting helps children develop assertiveness without resorting to real aggression (Fry, 2005).

    Psychological Frameworks for Understanding Rough-and-Tumble Play

    1. Evolutionary Psychology: Why Are Kids Naturally Drawn to Rough Play?

    From an evolutionary standpoint, rough-and-tumble play is a universal behavior seen across cultures and even in animals. It serves key survival and socialization functions, including:

    • Learning physical coordination and strength regulation
    • Practicing social hierarchies and negotiation skills
    • Building resilience by experiencing controlled stress

    Research suggests that depriving children of this kind of play may hinder their ability to adapt to challenges later in life(Pellis & Pellis, 2007).

    2. Neuroscience & Play Theory: How Rough Play Shapes the Brain

    Rough play activates and strengthens the prefrontal cortex, which is responsible for impulse control, emotional regulation, and social decision-making (Panksepp, 2001). This means that kids who engage in physical play actually learn how to control their emotions better than those who don’t.

    The Role of the \”Seeking\” System

    Jaak Panksepp, a neuroscientist known for his work on affective neuroscience, identified a \”seeking\” system in the brain—an innate drive toward exploration, novelty, and movement. Rough play activates this system, flooding the brain with dopamine, which enhances motivation, learning, and social bonding.

    When children are constantly prevented from engaging in this type of play, they may:

    • Seek out risky behaviors later in life to fulfill that suppressed drive
    • Struggle with focus and motivation because their natural exploratory impulses weren’t met

    3. Jungian Psychology & the Shadow: The Consequences of Suppressing Aggression

    When children are repeatedly told that rough-and-tumble play is \”bad,\” they may develop shadow aggression—a term in Jungian psychology that refers to aggression being pushed into the unconscious.

    This can manifest in two ways later in life:

    • Passive submission: Avoiding conflict, struggling to assert oneself, people-pleasing tendencies
    • Uncontrolled outbursts: Suppressed anger that erupts in extreme ways because it was never properly integrated

    In other words, teaching children to suppress their aggression entirely doesn’t make them peaceful—it just makes them unprepared for real-world conflicts.

    4. Polyvagal Theory: Rough Play as Nervous System Regulation

    Polyvagal theory (Porges, 2011) explains how our nervous system shifts between safety, fight-or-flight, and shutdownresponses. Rough play actually helps kids develop a flexible nervous system by moving between arousal (high-energy play) and co-regulation (calming down after play).

    Why This Matters

    Children who are encouraged to engage in rough play:
    ✔️ Develop better self-regulation – They learn how to escalate and de-escalate emotions.
    ✔️ Are less likely to react aggressively in real-life conflicts – They’ve already practiced controlling intensity in a safe setting.
    ✔️ Feel safer in their bodies – They become comfortable with physical engagement instead of fearing it.

    On the other hand, children who are never allowed to engage in rough play may struggle with:
    ❌ Feeling easily overwhelmed by intense emotions
    ❌ Avoiding physical confrontation at all costs (even when necessary)
    ❌ Difficulty calming themselves down after getting emotionally triggered

    Guidelines for Encouraging Healthy Rough Play

    Now that we understand the psychological and developmental benefits of rough play, how can we support it in a way that feels safe and constructive?

    1. Observe Before Intervening

    A key distinction between healthy rough play and true aggression is whether both children are enjoying themselves. Look for these signs:

    ✔️ Both kids are laughing or smiling
    ✔️ They take turns initiating the play
    ✔️ They pause or slow down when needed
    ✔️ If one gets hurt, the other expresses concern

    On the other hand, intervention is needed if:

    ❌ One child looks scared or uncomfortable
    ❌ The play becomes one-sided (only one child is attacking)
    ❌ There\’s an escalation into true anger or frustration

    Instead of stopping the play immediately, you can say:
    ➡️ “Are you both still having fun?”
    ➡️ “Let’s take a quick pause and check in—does everyone feel okay?”

    This allows children to learn self-awareness and emotional boundaries without automatically assuming their actions are \”bad.\”

    2. Teach Emotional and Physical Regulation

    Kids don’t naturally know how to manage aggression—they learn by practicing. Rough play is a perfect way to teach control.

    ✔️ Encourage pauses – Help kids learn to take a breath and reset.
    ✔️ Use playful redirection – If things escalate, suggest another activity that releases energy.
    ✔️ Model self-regulation – Instead of saying “Stop being so rough!” try:

    • “That was getting really fast—let’s slow it down.”
    • “Take a deep breath and check if your friend is okay.”

    When children experience small, safe doses of intensity, they learn to regulate it rather than suppress or fear it.

    3. Reframe the Narrative: Strength Is Not \”Bad\”

    Many parents—especially those who have their own aggression in the shadow—instinctively react to rough play with fear or guilt. But what if we changed the story?

    Instead of:
    ❌ \”My child is being aggressive; this means I’ve failed as a parent.\”

    Try:
    ✔️ \”My child is practicing strength and assertiveness in a safe way.\”

    One way to reframe is by using stories and archetypes. Many cultures celebrate warrior energy (not as violence, but as discipline and courage). You can say things like:

    ➡️ “Wow, you’re really strong! Warriors and adventurers have to practice their strength, too.”
    ➡️ “It’s great to see you using your power while making sure your friend is having fun.”

    This helps children associate strength with responsibility, not shame.

    4. Encourage Assertiveness, Not Submission

    If a child is never allowed to express strong emotions through play, they may become too submissive later in life. We want our kids to:

    ✔️ Stand up for themselves without fear
    ✔️ Set clear boundaries while remaining kind
    ✔️ Express emotions openly instead of suppressing them

    Instead of always stopping rough play, teach your child:

    ➡️ \”If someone plays too rough, you can say ‘Let’s slow down’ or ‘I don’t like that.’\”
    ➡️ \”You’re allowed to say no if you don’t want to play that way.\”

    This way, your child learns when to engage and when to walk away—key life skills for handling conflict.

    5. Manage Your Own Triggers as a Parent

    Many parents feel deeply uncomfortable watching their child play rough. If you grew up in a home where anger or aggression was punished, you may feel an automatic urge to shut it down.

    Ask yourself:
    ➡️ “What am I afraid will happen if I allow this?”
    ➡️ “Am I reacting to my child, or to my own past?”
    ➡️ “What would it feel like to trust that my child is learning through play?”

    By reflecting on your own relationship with aggression, you can start to release guilt and parent from a place of confidence rather than fear.

    Long-Term Effects: How Early Play Shapes Future Confidence

    The way we respond to rough-and-tumble play doesn’t just affect childhood—it shapes how kids navigate the world as adults.

    When parents allow healthy expressions of strength, children grow up to be:

    ✔️ Confident in their ability to handle challenges
    ✔️ Resilient in the face of setbacks
    ✔️ Assertive in standing up for themselves
    ✔️ Emotionally aware rather than repressing feelings

    But what happens if rough play is shamed or constantly shut down?

    1. The Risk of Suppressed Aggression

    If a child is taught that any form of aggression is wrong, they may learn to:

    ❌ Suppress anger instead of expressing it constructively
    ❌ Struggle with setting boundaries in relationships
    ❌ Avoid competition or leadership roles out of fear of seeming “too much”

    In adulthood, this can look like:
    ➡️ Difficulty standing up for themselves in the workplace
    ➡️ Avoiding confrontation, even when necessary
    ➡️ Feeling guilty for having strong opinions or emotions

    Example: A child who was repeatedly told, “Don’t be so rough! That’s not nice!” may grow up to be someone who struggles to say no or feels guilty when advocating for themselves.

    2. The Flip Side: Aggression Without Emotional Awareness

    On the other hand, if a child never learns to regulate aggression, they may develop:

    ❌ Impulsivity – Acting on emotions without thinking
    ❌ Domineering behavior – Struggling to recognize others’ boundaries
    ❌ Emotional repression – Exploding in anger after bottling things up

    The goal isn’t to encourage aggression or suppress it completely, but to help children integrate their strength with self-awareness.

    3. A Balanced Approach: Strength With Sensitivity

    The best way to ensure children grow into confident, emotionally intelligent adults is to:

    ✔️ Let them explore power in a safe way (rough play with clear boundaries)
    ✔️ Teach them to check in with others (“Is everyone still having fun?”)
    ✔️ Encourage both strength and kindness (“You’re strong, and strong people take care of others.”)

    By doing this, we’re raising kids who are neither overly aggressive nor overly submissive, but capable of standing their ground with compassion.

    Practical Exercises for Parents: Encouraging Healthy Rough Play

    Here are some hands-on ways to support healthy, developmentally appropriate aggression while fostering emotional intelligence:

    1. Reframe Your Own Beliefs About Aggression

    Since our own childhood experiences shape our reactions, take a moment to reflect:

    • What messages did you receive about aggression?
    • Were you allowed to express strong emotions safely, or were they shut down?
    • How do you feel when your child plays roughly? Is there guilt, fear, or discomfort?

    Exercise:

    • Write down your initial reaction when you see your child playing rough.
    • Ask yourself: Is this about my child’s experience, or am I bringing in my own past?
    • Practice a new script: Instead of saying, “Stop that! Be nice!”, try “You’re strong! Let’s make sure everyone is having fun.”

    2. Play-Based Connection: Joining the Rough Play

    Instead of just supervising rough play, join in! When parents engage in physical, playful interactions, kids feel:

    ✔️ Safe expressing strength
    ✔️ More emotionally connected to you
    ✔️ Empowered to set and respect boundaries

    Exercise:

    • Try gentle wrestling, chase games, or playful “tug-of-war” with pillows.
    • Model checking in: “Are we still having fun?”
    • Let your child practice setting boundaries: “Tell me if you want to stop.”

    This helps children internalize the idea that aggression isn’t bad—it just needs awareness and consent.

    3. The “Pause & Check-In” Method

    Teach kids to pause mid-play to check on their friends or siblings. This encourages self-awareness and social intelligence.

    Exercise:

    1. During rough play, say: “Hey, let’s pause! How’s everyone feeling?”
    2. If both children are happy, affirm: “Awesome, you’re playing strong AND kind.”
    3. If someone looks uncomfortable, model checking in: “Do you want to keep playing or take a break?”

    When kids learn to self-regulate aggression, they grow into adults who can assert themselves while respecting others.

    4. Confidence & Assertiveness Role-Play

    Many parents worry that rough play will lead to bullying. In reality, it’s often the kids who were never allowed to express strength who struggle most with boundaries.

    Exercise:

    • Role-play assertive responses with your child:
      • “Hey, that’s too rough for me. Let’s try this instead.”
      • “I like playing rough, but I don’t want to get hurt. Let’s be careful.”

    This teaches children to stand up for themselves while respecting others—critical skills for adulthood.

    Free Resource: The Rough & Tumble Play Guide for Parents

    To make this even easier, I’ve created a downloadable guide with:

    ✅ 10 Play Ideas to encourage healthy roughhousing
    ✅ Scripts to use when setting boundaries without shaming
    ✅ A Quick-Reflection Worksheet to explore your own childhood beliefs about aggression

    Download for free

    Final toughts

    Let’s raise children who are both strong and kind, assertive and respectful. Instead of suppressing aggression, let’s teach them to use it wisely.

    If this article resonated with you, share it with another parent who might need this reminder!

    Explore further:

    When Food Waste Feels Like a Personal Attack: Healing Parental Triggers Around Mealtime Struggles

    Why Your 1-Year-Old Refuses to Be Fed—And Why That’s a Good Thing

    When Your Mother Seems to Forget You After You Have a Baby—Understanding the Distance and Healing the Rift (+free PDF)

    References

    Below are the studies and books explicitly cited in the article:

    1. Panksepp, J. (1998).Affective Neuroscience: The Foundations of Human and Animal Emotions. Oxford University Press.
      • Research on play circuits in the brain and their role in emotional regulation.
    2. Gray, P. (2013).Free to Learn: Why Unleashing the Instinct to Play Will Make Our Children Happier, More Self-Reliant, and Better Students for Life. Basic Books.
      • Discusses the importance of play in childhood development, including rough-and-tumble play.
    3. Pellegrini, A. D. (2002). \”Rough-and-Tumble Play from Childhood through Adolescence: Development and Possible Functions.\” In Blackwell Handbook of Childhood Social Development.
      • Examines rough play as a tool for social learning and aggression regulation.
    4. Bjørnebekk, G. (2007). \”Rough-and-Tumble Play and Social Competence in Early Childhood.\” Journal of Early Childhood Research, 5(1), 15-33.
      • Studies the link between rough play and social competence in children.
    5. Bundy, A. C., & Lane, S. J. (2020).Sensory Integration: Theory and Practice. F.A. Davis.
      • Explores the sensory benefits of rough-and-tumble play for self-regulation.
    6. Schore, A. N. (2001). \”The Effects of a Secure Attachment Relationship on Right Brain Development, Affect Regulation, and Infant Mental Health.\” Infant Mental Health Journal, 22(1-2), 7-66.
      • Connection between attachment, emotion regulation, and physical play.
    7. Van der Kolk, B. (2014).The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Penguin Books.
      • Discusses how movement-based play supports emotional regulation and trauma processing.