I want to tell you about what happened at my kitchen table yesterday. Not because it was dramatic, or even unusual – but because it was one of those small, quiet moments that so many of us experience… and don’t talk about.
It started with my daughter, sitting in her high chair, flinging food on the floor like it was a sport. I had spent a good 45 minutes preparing her a nourishing meal – one I was proud of, one I hoped would fill her little body after a day of teething and disrupted routines. But instead of eating, she played. Screamed. Threw things. And I could feel it building.
My chest was tight. My legs felt like jelly. My thoughts were loud and fast and relentless. The irritation in my body wasn’t just irritation – it was a full-blown nervous system response. A survival response. I wasn’t just frustrated that she wasn’t eating. I was overwhelmed by all the invisible things on my mental list – clients, emails, finances, dishes, that pile of laundry I’d stepped over three times. I was at capacity.
And this – this – is what nervous system work looks like.
It’s Not the Child. It’s the Capacity.
We often think of nervous system regulation as something we do in a yoga class or a meditation session. But the real work happens in the middle of life – in the moments that feel too hard, too loud, too much.
When I talk to clients and parents about rewiring the nervous system, the question that comes up again and again is: “But what does that actually look like in real life?”
It looks like this: noticing the signs in your body before the explosion. Recognising the survival response for what it is – a call to pause, not punish.
It looks like being in the moment with your child, and still being able to ask, “What’s going on for me right now?”
Not, “Why is she doing this?”
But:
- “Why do I feel like I’m about to snap?”
- “What’s bubbling under the surface?”
- “Where am I at capacity, and why?”
This is the real rewire. In the body. In the pause. In the questions that shift the narrative from blame to compassion.
You’re Not Broken. You’re Full.
The thing is, most of us don’t realise how much stimulation and stress we’re carrying until something tips us over. And often, that “something” looks like a child refusing dinner, or a partner asking a seemingly innocent question, or a dish breaking in the sink.
But it’s not about that thing. It’s about the thousand things that came before it. The full load we’ve been carrying silently, unconsciously. The pressure of a world that doesn’t pause, even when we need to.
Our nervous systems aren’t misbehaving. They’re just doing their job. They’re responding to everything we’ve ever been through – and everything we’re currently holding. And that’s why this work matters. Because we can’t change the world overnight. We can’t control our children. But we can build a different relationship with our bodies. One that says, “I see you. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Sensation Before Reaction
Here’s what I’ve learnt: there is always a sensation before the reaction.
Before the yelling, before the panic, before the shutdown – there’s always a subtle cue from the body. A tightness. A flutter. A wave of heat or nausea. And most of us were never taught to listen for it.
We were taught to suppress. To push through. To “keep it together.”
But real healing doesn’t happen through suppression. It happens through intimacy – learning to be with the sensations instead of being afraid of them. Befriending the discomfort. Holding space for what rises, without needing to fix or fight it.
So yesterday, before I erupted, I closed my eyes. I breathed. I asked a better question.
And in that pause, my body softened.
This Isn’t About Perfection
I don’t get it right every time. No one does. This isn’t about becoming the “calm mum” who never snaps. It’s about becoming the woman who knows why she’s snapping – and who can return to herself faster and more compassionately each time.
It’s about building a nervous system that can hold more. One that doesn’t crumble every time the unexpected happens – because life, especially life with children, is nothing but the unexpected.
We don’t do this work so that our kids behave. We do this work so that we can remain whole, even when they don’t.
