Parenting a Highly Sensitive, Aggressive Child? This Might Change Everything

There is a specific kind of exhaustion that happens when you understand what’s going on… but you still can’t seem to shift it.

You’ve read about nervous systems.
You know what dysregulation is.
You’ve learned that kids aren’t trying to manipulate you — they’re responding from their bodies.

And yet, your child still goes from calm to explosive in seconds.

Not dramatic.

Explosive.

Hitting.
Throwing.
Pushing a sibling.
Screaming words that feel way bigger than the moment.

And you’re left standing there thinking:

I know better than this. Why isn’t this working?

This is the part that’s hard to admit. Especially if you’re the “aware” mom. Especially if you’ve invested time into learning different tools.

Because when you’re trying to parent differently and it’s still chaotic, it doesn’t just feel overwhelming. It feels confusing. It feels personal.

Amanda’s story speaks directly into that tension.

She wasn’t guessing her way through motherhood. She had been a teacher. She had observed children in multiple environments — from low-income schools to higher-achieving districts. She had seen firsthand that what shows up in classrooms often starts long before the classroom.

So when she became a mom, she intentionally chose a respectful approach. She learned about infant development. She practiced narrating transitions. She treated her son like a full human with feelings and agency. She worked hard to respond calmly.

And still, aggression kept showing up.

From a young age, when her son became overwhelmed, he didn’t simply cry or collapse into a tantrum. He hit. He bit. He kicked. As he grew, the behaviors intensified. The frequency increased. The escalation became faster.

This wasn’t occasional dysregulation. It was almost daily.

Then postpartum entered the picture after her daughter was born.

And here’s something important to write out clearly for the readers who need precision:

Postpartum anxiety does not always present as visible panic. It often shows up as irritability, short fuses, anger, and feeling overstimulated beyond your normal threshold.

Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Youtube

Amanda experienced that shift. Her reactions became sharper. Her nervous system felt closer to the edge. She eventually sought medical support and began medication. It helped stabilize her mood.

But her son’s aggressive responses continued.

And that created a new layer of confusion.

If I’m more regulated now… why is he still escalating?

That question matters.

Because sometimes when our own nervous system settles and the behavior continues, it reveals that the issue may not simply be modeling or co-regulation. It may be something more specific happening inside the child’s system.

The turning point came during a family vacation. What should have been manageable moments were triggering intense reactions. The behaviors felt disproportionate to the requests being made.

That’s when Amanda shifted from asking, “How do I make this stop?” to asking, “What is his nervous system experiencing?”

That shift is subtle, but it changes everything.

Eventually, an occupational therapist mentioned something called Persistent Demand for Autonomy (often referred to as PDA).

Here is the simplified explanation for readers who want clarity without jargon:

Children with a PDA profile experience everyday demands as a threat to autonomy. Their nervous systems interpret even normal expectations — like washing hands or turning off a device — as a loss of control or equality.

For most children, a demand might register as mildly frustrating. For a PDA child, it can register as danger.

When the nervous system perceives danger, it activates survival responses: fight, flight, freeze.

The aggression, avoidance, or intense resistance is not calculated misbehavior. It is a stress response.

Amanda began observing patterns. The meltdowns often followed demands. Even loving, reasonable limits. Even calmly stated boundaries.

Her son would sometimes throw food he had requested. Push his sister after being given an instruction. Say harsh words seemingly out of nowhere.

This is often described as “equalizing behavior.” When a child feels small, powerless, or threatened, their system seeks to restore balance. Not through logic. Through action.

If I feel less-than, I will attempt to regain power.

Understanding this does not remove boundaries. It does not excuse harm. It does not mean permissiveness.

What it does is change the interpretation.

It shifts from “He is trying to control me” to “His body feels out of control.”

That reframe alone protects attachment.

Amanda has reflected that if she had approached these behaviors with heavy punishment or control — rather than the relational foundation she had already built — her son’s burnout could have escalated significantly. The respectful groundwork did not solve everything, but it preserved safety in the relationship.

That matters.

Because many adults walking around today were once labeled “aggressive,” “defiant,” or “too much.” Their nervous systems were in survival mode, but the language wasn’t there yet.

PDA is not widely recognized in every system, and many families navigate this without validation. That lack of language can intensify parental shame.

If you are reading this slowly and thinking, this sounds familiar, here is what you might notice:

Frequent intense reactions to normal expectations.
Masking in public but exploding at home.
Disproportionate anger tied to perceived control.
A child who is deeply loving but highly reactive.

This does not automatically mean PDA. But it may mean your child’s nervous system is highly sensitive to autonomy.

And if that’s true, the approach shifts.

More collaboration.
More flexibility.
More curiosity about what their body is signaling.
Boundaries that protect safety without escalating threat.

It also means something for you.

You are not failing because you need outside support. Amanda sought medication. Evaluations. Occupational therapy. Additional frameworks. That does not make her less capable. It makes her responsive to reality.

Sometimes awareness is not enough. Sometimes you need the right lens.

If you prefer to read rather than listen, I want you to be able to sit with this without the urgency of audio. Re-read the parts that felt uncomfortable. Highlight the lines that made you exhale.

Your child may not be trying to overpower you.

They may be overwhelmed by their own internal alarm system.

And both things can be true:

You can be exhausted by it.
And still be the safest place they land.

That is not weakness.
That is capacity work.

And if this gave you language for something you’ve been carrying quietly, then this wasn’t just information.

It was recognition.

Connect with Amanda: