Regulating Myself So I Can Regulate My Kid

It’s like being the world’s most fragile glass teacup while also being the one expected to catch every flying plate.

This has been a week. I’m sure you noticed I didn’t post much. I needed time to reflect and sit in my feelings. This transition with my own medication, while also managing my son’s medications, IEP, counseling, school schedule, and everything else, has been a lot.

Sometimes you know something isn’t quite right in your gut. You feel it building for days. Then the storm hits all at once. The situation with my kiddo escalated in about 24 hours, and it was overwhelming. I’m still trying to figure out how to move forward, while also being a little angry. Angry at my kiddo. Angry at the school for letting him down. Angry at myself for not reacting sooner. There has been a lot of sitting in those feelings.

I was already in that place of “something isn’t right.” I could see his behavior becoming more aggressive. I could see signs of depression creeping in. Then the school calls, and suddenly my brain short-circuited. I basically shut down. It feels like everything freezes while my brain tries to reboot. I see so many crossroads in front of me, trying to prepare for every possible scenario. Some good, some bad. I fall down a deep rabbit hole of thoughts and worries.

So I breathe.
Not because I’m calm.
But because I know what it feels like to be the kid.

I know the shame spiral.
The “Why can’t I just?”
The feeling of trying so hard while everyone thinks you aren’t trying at all. And I know that while I’m feeling all of this, my son is too. Since going back to public school, his self-esteem has taken a hit.

Then came the hardest part: talking to him. How do I have an honest conversation without making it worse? I find myself becoming extra gentle, extra patient, extra steady. I swallow my own overwhelm so he doesn’t have to carry it too. I ask questions instead of reacting. I try to translate his chaos because I speak the language fluently.

This week I will sit in meetings with my husband, thankfully, and nod while my brain is doing cartwheels. My voice stays soft because I refuse to let him be labeled before he is understood. I want a real plan. I want support. I want him to know we are in this with him. I want to teach him how to problem solve the situation before making major changes. (He cant just quit a job with no plan in the future, so the next few steps are important to his growth).

And later, in the car, or the shower, or the pantry where the snacks live, the emotions finally land. I grieve for my child, for myself, and for the reality of what we’re navigating. I pray we are moving in the right direction for him.

The truth is, Im not just parenting my child(ren).
I’m healing myself at the same time. Relearning how to respond, partially thankful I have coping skills, and really hoping some of those skills will rub off on my kids(s).

It’s exhausting.

And every time I choose calm when my nervous system wants to sprint, I’m showing my children an example for how to handle situations that may not feel so simple.