**You can also listen to this in audio format only on The Regulated Mother Podcast on Apple or Spotify. Look for Episode #23
**Below is the blog article for easy reading.
I didn’t learn about PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance) during a single “aha moment.” It was more of a slow unraveling—someone mentioned it in passing, I tucked it away, and weeks later I finally sat down at my computer one night after another overwhelming day. My child had refused almost everything, melted down multiple times, shut down completely, and nothing I had tried made sense. Desperate for some kind of insight, I typed “Pathological Demand Avoidance” into Google. I didn’t expect answers, but as I read, something inside me went very still. Then softened. Then cracked open with recognition.
It wasn’t just that the information made sense—it was that my body recognized the truth. The fear underneath his refusals, the panic fueling the explosive “no,” the way the smallest request could feel like danger, the shutdowns that looked like defiance but were really collapse—it all suddenly had a name. And for the first time, I understood that what we were dealing with wasn’t behavior. It was a survival response trying to communicate to me that my son was not feeling safe enough to comply with life’s demands.
That realization led me toward reducing demands in small, hesitant steps. I loosened our routines, stopped pushing transitions, removed my son from school, and even removed any structured learning from the equation altogether. And while these changes helped my child feel more accepted, relieved and more safe to some degree, my own nervous system was struggling even more. If anything, the more I reduced demands on him, the more demands I increased on myself to meet his needs, and the more fear and pressure I felt inside myself.
My anxiety rose. My body tightened. I second-guessed everything. Each accommodation created more internal fear. What if I’m doing this wrong? What if he never learns? What if I’m enabling him? What if I ruin his future? What if people are judging me? What if I’m not doing enough? And alongside the fear, I found myself holding in my reactions more than ever—biting my tongue, controlling my tone, suppressing frustration, and trying to appear calm when I was anything but. On top of this, I felt I had to meet all of his needs at the expense of my own.
It was only later that I understood what was happening: lowering demands helped my child’s nervous system, but it activated every survival pattern inside my own. And the more I held in, the more I gave in and denied my needs, the more I carried, the more depleted and burnt out I became—not because I was doing too little or even doing too much – but because I was holding too much.
Reducing demands is essential for PDA children. It decreases perceived threat, increases autonomy, reduces meltdowns, and helps their nervous system shift toward safety. For them, fewer demands feel like relief and regulation.
But for you, the opposite often happens. When you let go of the tools you were raised with—structure, discipline, follow-through, consistency, doing more and “just do it”—your nervous system may interpret this shift as danger. You lose the familiar signals of safety you grew up depending on to make you feel worthy and enough, and without realizing it, you enter your own survival response. You might feel anxious, untethered, out of control, or like the ground beneath you has disappeared.
This is a polyvagal mismatch.
Your child’s nervous system says: “Less pressure means safety.”
Your nervous system says: “Less structure and less doing means danger.”
This mismatch creates an internal whiplash. Your child becomes calmer, while you become more activated (but hold it in). Their nervous system feels supported, while yours feels destabilized.
Understanding this mismatch is essential, because it explains why you might feel more overwhelmed—not less—when you begin lowering demands.
Lowering demands doesn’t just change how you parent. It triggers a cascade of deeply ingrained beliefs stored in your body—beliefs tied to how you learned to be safe, loved, belonging and successful growing up. These beliefs often sound like:
These beliefs don’t live in your mind—they live in your nervous system. They were shaped through decades of conditioning, through family systems, schooling, cultural messages, and generational expectations about obedience, productivity, responsibility, and performance. When you lower demands for your child, these beliefs become activated in the body, sometimes intensely.
This is why lowering demands can feel like you are breaking the rules of what it means to be a “good parent,” or a “successful human” even when you know intellectually that you are supporting your child in the most attuned, trauma-informed way possible.
Most of us grew up in systems where compliance equaled goodness, productivity equaled worth, being “easy” equaled love, and pushing through was considered strength. In those environments, meeting your own needs was often secondary—or not allowed at all. You may have learned to fawn, to perform, to please, to push, or to make yourself small to keep the peace or earn approval.
So when you begin reducing demands for your PDA child, you are not just changing a parenting strategy. You are challenging your entire conditioning.
Your body interprets low-demand parenting as:
This tension doesn’t live in your thoughts—it lives in your fascia, your breath, your jaw, your shoulders, your posture. It is cellular. It is somatic. And it explains why your child’s relief can simultaneously feel like your panic.
The part that most parents aren’t prepared for is how much emotional and physiological suppression low-demand parenting requires. When you reduce demands, you also reduce the amount of frustration, urgency, and overwhelm you can outwardly express. You find yourself carefully managing your tone, your facial expressions, your language, and even your body movements.
You may find yourself trying to look calm while your insides are full of activation. You swallow your impulses to correct or push. You override your instinct to speed things up or insist. You absorb your child’s overwhelm without discharging your own. And this means your body is carrying far more survival energy than it ever gets to release.
Over time, this trapped activation builds up. It shows up as irritability, resentment, exhaustion, anxiety, muscle tension, headaches, shutdown, or emotional numbness. These aren’t signs of failure. They are signs of a nervous system holding too much without any way to complete the stress cycle and release the stress that gets trapped inside the body.
What I didn’t understand at first—and what so many moms I work with eventually realize—is that low-demand parenting doesn’t just activate anxiety. It awakens old childhood survival patterns like fawning, appeasing, people-pleasing, or staying small to keep the peace.
These patterns weren’t weaknesses. They were brilliant survival strategies your nervous system developed early on to stay safe in environments where your stability depended on other people’s emotions. Many of us learned as children:
“If they’re not okay, I’m not safe.”
So you became the one who soothed, softened, adjusted, and took responsibility for everyone’s emotional state. Not consciously—your body did this automatically.
When you begin lowering demands for your PDA child, these patterns often become more intense, not less. The more you work to reduce pressure for your child, the more you may silence your own needs, soften your boundaries, shape-shift to avoid triggering them, and take responsibility for their emotional world.
This happens because your child’s overwhelm activates old trauma physiology. Your nervous system reacts as if you’re back in those early environments where someone else’s distress meant danger.
And without realizing it, you start abandoning yourself—again.
This creates another layer of burnout:
you’re not only holding in survival energy,
you’re also losing connection to your own needs, identity, and inner world.
Your child and your body often need opposite things at the same time. Your child needs autonomy, space, freedom, choice, and minimal pressure. But your nervous system may need structure, predictability, reassurance, clarity, and boundaries to feel safe.
This creates a painful internal conflict: “How do I meet their needs without abandoning mine?”
You’re trying to hold safety for your child while your own body is struggling to find safety itself. This conflict is not a mindset issue—it is the collision of two nervous systems with different survival strategies.
This mismatch creates chronic tension inside you, which becomes a major driver of burnout.
Burnout in PDA parenting is not caused by doing too little. It comes from a double survival load:
This is nervous system burnout, not just emotional exhaustion. It happens because your body is stuck in survival physiology—activated or collapsed—without enough moments to release activation or receive nourishment.
Parents need rest, but rest is often not available in long stretches. So the path forward is learning how to:
When you don’t have these pressure valves, burnout becomes inevitable—not because you’re doing it wrong, but because your nervous system has been carrying more than any one person should ever have to hold.
The solution isn’t to push your child or tighten demands. It’s to rebuild your internal safety so that lowering demands doesn’t feel like chaos inside your body. This means learning how to gently complete stress cycles, allowing movement, shaking, crying, orienting, or any safe discharge of survival energy.
And it also means repairing the deeper survival pattern underneath all of this — the one that learned in childhood that you had to stay small, pleasing, accommodating, or emotionally responsible for others in order to stay safe. These patterns weren’t your fault; they were brilliant strategies your nervous system created to protect you. But they can get reactivated in PDA parenting, leading you to abandon your own needs without even realizing it. Part of rebuilding safety now is gently teaching your body a new truth: you can be okay even when someone else isn’t.
It also means giving yourself small moments of support—not big, dramatic self-care, but tiny drops of nourishment throughout the day: a moment to breathe more slowly, unclenching your jaw, relaxing your shoulders, stepping outside for air, letting yourself pause without guilt.
Rebuilding safety is both a somatic and emotional process. It involves challenging old beliefs at the body level—not through mindset alone—and learning how to co-regulate in a way that doesn’t require self-abandonment. And it requires slowly increasing your capacity in ways that honor both you and your child.
Parenting a PDA child is not about perfection. It is about presence, attunement, and compassion—both for your child and for yourself. Your child isn’t refusing you; they are protecting themselves. And you aren’t falling apart because you’re doing it wrong. You’re unlearning decades of conditioning, holding emotional labor for two nervous systems, grieving the parenting story you thought you’d have, and rebuilding safety from the inside out.
Lowering demands didn’t break you. It awakened everything inside of you that has been waiting to be acknowledged, soothed, and healed.
If you feel overwhelmed, chaotic, or like you’re losing yourself, it doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re doing profoundly hard, transformative work: breaking generational patterns and learning to create safety for both your child and yourself.
You are not failing.
You are healing.
You are evolving.
You are becoming the parent your child needs—and the parent you needed, too.
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