SEND HUGS

23/04/2026

Imagine being the parent of an 8-year-old who is so dysregulated that they regularly punch, kick and bite you, smash furniture and bash chunks out of the plaster in the walls.

They scream so loudly that you're convinced the neighbours are going to call social services, or possibly the police - and you even feel slightly concerned when they don't.

Your child threatens to jump into the road in front of passing cars if you try to get them to walk anywhere, and when you're driving, they try to open the door of the moving car and jump out.

There comes a point where they're clawing at you, sobbing as they tell you that if you really loved them, you'd end their life for them, because it's not worth living.

And that's not the lowest point.

The lowest point as a parent comes when you confide in the child's school and ask for advice, and they say that the child has no problems at school and so this must be a parenting issue.

And when you contact CAMHS, and the people who are supposed to know what to do to help you say, "Well, your child has a diagnosis of autism, and that's a lifelong condition, so we can't do anything to help." And then they sign you off, without ever actually seeing your child.

And that's when you feel that you're truly alone.

If anything like this is your life now, I want you to know this.

You're not alone - other parents are going through this too, and many have been through it and come out the other side.

Your child is not the problem, and neither is your parenting.

You are the best advocate your child will ever have, and however exhausted you are and however hard you find it, nobody has a better opportunity than you do to help your child find their way out of that despair, because there's nobody they trust as much as you, and nobody who loves them as much as you do.

That’s a terrifying proposition when you're going through it. You should still ask for all the help you can get, both for your child and yourself. Don't even think about trying to handle all that alone.

But as parents, we find strength we never knew we had, and there are many other parents who have walked this path and are here to help you find your way.

22/04/2026

We have a birthday coming up in the house this weekend.

The plans have been made, remade, pored over, agonised about, discussed in great detail at 2:00 in the morning…

The wish list has been created in several volumes, the cake has been requested, and every minute has been mapped out.

My brain keeps sliding off it, forgetting how close it is, because the planning has been at fever pitch for months.

The main celebration will be the weekend after the birthday, and the weekend after that is another big two day event for her - one which now clashes with a funeral and a wedding for me.

If anyone wants me over the next few days, I’ll be trying to work out how to make a cake that looks like a big wedge of pink cheese…

(Photo is of a more straightforward effort from a previous year.)

19/04/2026

Over the three or four weeks beginning yesterday, I’m due to attend four weddings and a funeral.

I’ll be attending all of them alone, because my children aren’t able to participate (even though they’re invited), and my husband will be staying at home with them while I make excuses for the fact that my family aren’t there.

There’s something about going to a wedding alone as a married person that doesn’t feel quite right. You mess up the table plan, there’s nobody to do the slow dances with, nobody to reminisce with about your own wedding, and there’s always going to be a gap in the wedding album where the rest of your family should have been.

And paying my respects to a very dear friend without my husband at my side, I’ll also feel his absence.

I’ve had my own period of purdah, where I was unable to leave the house without my children (and the children themselves never wanted to leave). It was tough, and I felt incredibly isolated at times.

These days, the children are able to let me go out while they stay with my husband. It means he and I can take turns to go out, but one or other of us always seems to miss out. At the moment, he’s missing out on more than I am.

What we’re both missing out on is time together - and in particular, time spent together and not in the neverending task list that is our home.

I had my Sunday afternoon “me time” at Tesco today, and when I got back, my husband left to take the dog for a walk.

One day, we’ll be able to walk the dog together, perhaps stopping at a pub en route for Sunday lunch.

In the meantime, there are happy noises coming from upstairs, and my husband and the dog get to enjoy this beautiful weather while I unwind with a cup of tea after yesterday’s wedding and think about what I’m going to wear to next week’s.

It’s not the life we planned, but the older I get, the more I realise that nobody fully gets the life they planned.

Would I switch to the sort of life I imagined when I was younger if it meant sharing that life with different people?

Actually, no.

The children I have are the ones I was always meant to have, and they’re taking me on a rollercoaster ride to places I never imagined.

18/04/2026

One of the things I most hate is when people say children who are struggling need to develop more resilience.

The thing about resilience is that there are things we can cope with on some days and not others. Our ability to cope with whatever extra thing the world has thrown at us depends on how much we're already carrying.

I've been quiet on Facebook this week, because life has been throwing a lot of things at me. I could have dealt with any one or two of those more easily had they not all come at the same time.

As it was, life ground almost to a halt.

A child who is already dealing with more than they can comfortably cope with is not going to be able to handle new demands as easily as a child who starts the day feeling happy and comfortable.

A child may arrive at school with their cup already full because they have a sick parent or sibling at home, because of abuse, because their home is cold and they haven't had enough to eat - and all of these things tend to be acknowledged as the barriers that they are.

But if a child finds it physically painful to wear their school uniform, or to cope with the noise level in the playground or the classroom, or if they feel sick when they smell the overpowering aromas of school, or if they find writing difficult and painful, then we tell them they should learn to put up with all of that and become more resilient.

I attended an Autism Reality Experience Day yesterday which was organised by the NAS South Bucks Branch. Families and professionals were invited to board a bus for a simulation which allowed them to experience what life can be like for autistic individuals.

Many of them came out shaken, talking about what a disturbing and uncomfortable experience it had been.

If a child feels that uncomfortable every day at school and can't escape it by just taking off the headphones and glasses, is it any wonder they find school more difficult than a child who generally feels comfortable in that environment?

Instead of trying to change the child and make them put up with that level of discomfort, shouldn't we do everything we can to change the environment and make it more comfortable for the child?

13/04/2026

I don't like to blow my own trumpet too much, but I was really pleased to receive this lovely review from a client today:

"Liz at SEND Hugs has been such an amazing support to me and my son. She really lifted me during some very dark and difficult times when I was feeling low and overwhelmed.

She helped me feel stronger, reassured me, and reminded me that I am a good mum, even when things felt really hard. My son has had a very difficult time, and having Liz there made such a difference to both of us.

She has supported me at short notice, listened without judgement, and always made me feel supported — whether through emails, letters, or simply knowing she was there when I needed her.

Liz is an amazing SEN advocate, and I feel so lucky to have found her. I honestly don’t know how I would have managed without her support."

I still have a small amount of availability in April and May for EHCP support, advice on SEND support in schools, neurodivergent parent coaching and help with SEND correspondence and preparation for meetings in schools.

13/04/2026

Apparently there are children who actually go to school on the first day of term. We’re 0 for 2 in this house.

I went alone to a family get-together yesterday because the children both wanted to preserve their strength for today. It didn’t go down well in some quarters, and I was told (though not by anyone who was actually there) it was rude and unacceptable not to force my children to attend.

If only I’d realised they were only preserving their strength so they could stand firmer against me.

Oh, and this is going on with my eye. I’m guessing it’s stress-related.

12/04/2026

One of the great ironies of life is when you realise that the person you would normally go to for comfort and wise words after a loss is the person you’ve just lost.

This has been a week of big events, big shocks and big emotions, where each successive event has sent a shockwave through me.

Sleep has been hard to come by, and when I inevitably get woken several times in the night by my children, there have been long hours spent with my mind churning, trying to get back to sleep.

There’s a game I play on my phone where you start with a tangle of arrows and you have to release them in a particular order so that they don’t crash into each other and get stuck.

The first few are usually quite easy to pick off, and then it gets harder, with some longer arrows snaking round half the game board and blocking numerous others. Until you’ve managed to extract some of those, it’s difficult to see how anything can move forward.

It feels like a bit of a metaphor for life. Some weeks we have a lot of strands tangling around each other. Some are quick and easy to release, while some seem to snake around and block the way for a lot of others. It can be hard to know which ones to unravel first, and we butt our heads against the blockages before we can untangle them and let things flow.

If each week is a new level, and the arrows represent the things we have to deal with in the week, this week has been a “super hard” level for me, and I’ve crashed against the barriers too many times.

I’ve had clients contact me this week who are going through super hard levels of their own. We’re all searching for the ends that will release the big blockers, and some of them seem impossible to find.

If only life were as simple as a computer game, where if you crash three times, you can just watch an ad to get three new lives.

08/04/2026

Four years ago, I felt like a prisoner in my own home.

My PDA child was slowly recovering from burnout and needed me there for coregulation at all times, day and night.

Leaving home alone was impossible. Even getting to the supermarket was a rare treat. My social life was restricted to Zoom calls and social media, and I turned down most invitations.

On the rare occasions when I really needed to leave home, either for work or for my sanity, there was always a meltdown before I left the house.

My child would scream in panic, cling onto me and beg me not to go. My way to the door would be blocked, the keys would be hidden, I’d be chased barefoot down the road…

When I got home, the dysregulation would be even worse, and however late it was, my child was always waiting up for me.

It just wasn’t worth putting us all through it unless it was necessary.

My physical bruises soon faded, but the mental ones took longer, and some of our walls and furniture still bear the scars of that period.

It went on for months, stretching into years, and felt as though it would never end.

If you’re in that period now, I feel your pain. I know what you’re going through, how trapped you feel some days, and how you feel judged by other people.

But I can also tell you this: it can get better.

Over time, I learnt radical acceptance. I stopped fighting for the sort of life I imagined everyone else was having, and started to live the life my family needed. I learnt to look for what was really happening behind the “behaviour”, and I started to understand the anxiety that drove it.

And gradually, in tiny incremental steps, my child began to learn to manage without me.

I began to be able to do my shopping, go out for the occasional evening, and eventually even have a night away from home.

I was called home early less often and the dysregulated behaviour on my return began to be less intense, as coregulation gradually began to give way to self-regulation.

I can now have “me time” at the supermarket every Sunday, and I’m just back from two relaxing nights away while the children stayed home with my husband.

We’re not all the way there, but that’s what progress looks like.

07/04/2026

Have you ever broken the law?

Paid cash in hand for a job and got a discount because VAT was being evaded?

Lied about your age to buy alcohol?

Used illegal drugs?

Knowingly broken the speed limit?

Why?

Because you thought the law was stupid, because you thought your actions were victimless, or because you thought nobody would find out?

Or did you not do it because you thought it was wrong, or because you were scared of the consequences if you were found out?

Around where I live, there’s an almost permanent smell of w**d in the air. It’s still an illegal drug, but the police don’t enforce the law, so it’s widely ignored.

Boy racers use the road through town as a racetrack, and nobody ever pulls them over. The police station in town closed a few years ago.

Let’s trace this back to how we parent.

Some children are more naturally compliant than others, but even the Perfect Peters of the world have their moments.

You can deal with those moments by threatening consequences. A child may learn to fear the consequences, perhaps remembering a time when the threat was followed through.

Or they might have cottoned on that these are empty threats. If fear is their only reason to comply, they may ignore the threats and carry on regardless.

Others may be motivated to comply by the anticipation of a reward. If no reward is offered, there’s no reason to comply.

But as they grow older and understand more, they need to develop their own moral compass, so that when they encounter new situations, they’ll instinctively choose the “right” path.

One thing I have always told my children is that the most important thing is to be kind. I let them see the natural consequences of their actions and explain to them how their actions make other people feel.

People describe my children as kind, polite, generous, good friends. That doesn’t come from fear of consequences or desire for reward - it’s internally driven.

Distress responses are something else, and can’t be resolved with either punishment or reward. But I believe the ultimate aim of parenting is to encourage children to have the intrinsic motivation to do the right thing even when you could get away with doing wrong.

06/04/2026

Even after I shared that post yesterday, we ended up having a problem - and the problem was me.

We had a quiet day planned, nothing special. I asked the children if they wanted to have an egg hunt and they did, so the eggs were duly hidden, hunted and found.

But… at the last minute, I couldn’t let go of the fact that Easter’s a special day. I wanted to mark it by having a special meal. Both children had voluntarily sat at the table eating Easter eggs and chatting after the egg hunt, so I thought we’d all sit together to eat in the evening.

I spent the entire afternoon preparing three completely different meals to cater to all tastes, and I managed to have everything hot and ready to eat at the same time.

When I called everyone to the table, there was no response - not even from my husband. And I was disappointed, and showed my disappointment in no uncertain terms.

After one child had picked up some food and eaten it in their fingers, standing near the table, and the other had persuaded me to serve their meal in their bedroom as usual, my daughter summed up the problem succinctly.

“Why did you try to force us to sit at the table today? You claim to understand that I can’t eat at the table, and then you do something like this. You’re the problem, not me!”

She can do it, when she has to - at my parents’ house, for instance, on our rare visits. But it takes a significant amount of effort and masking, and it exhausts her.

I’ve created a home in which my children generally feel safe to be themselves. They don’t feel the need to mask and people please. They know how to behave outside the house, and they either conform or stay at home, depending on how well they feel able to mask on a particular day.

But home is their sanctuary. And they are not happy to have conventional social norms forced on them in their sanctuary.

I get it. I’m capable of putting on a full face of makeup, a posh frock and a pair of ruinously uncomfortable high heels that give me blisters (though I do it as seldom as I can get away with). But I wouldn’t do all that for an evening at home with the family.

It seems I still have work to do on my expectations.

05/04/2026

“We are not our children, and our children are not us. We are living different lives, in different bodies with different wants and needs. Our children aren’t necessarily missing out because they’re not spending holidays the way we did.”

It took me a long time to understand this, and even longer to accept it. I felt terrible guilt about holidays spent chilling out at home instead of ‘making memories’ on days out, picnics and visits to friends and family.

It was when I realised that many of those memories would be of dysregulation and trauma rather than fun and excitement that I was finally able to let go.

There’s lots of love, happiness and laughter in our house. Our life doesn’t need to look like my childhood dreams to achieve that.

If you, or your family are really struggling right now over the Easter break, I want to share that this is very common for PDAers.

This is when as a PDAer myself, I know that my nervous system is doing exactly what it's designed to do.

My PDA children and I are highly attuned to people, places, and things. I don't miss a single thing. Everything goes in and is processed from a threat perspective.

Energy is my first language before spoken words. We feel into people, we sense shifts in atmosphere and intention that others may not even register. So when holidays come around, it's not just chocolate eggs and time off.

It's a shift in the energy of every person around us. It's routine dissolving and a threat to organic flow. It's the unspoken expectation to enjoy, to be grateful, to participate.

Sometimes it's more people in our space, which means our access to safety is compromised. It's dynamics changing, and our nervous system locks onto every single one of those changes.

I woke up up so tired I could barely function, and I knew why. The changes. My nervous system works in cohesion with my body to create what it believes is safety - be tired, withdraw from perceived threat. I have had to take things very slowly and very gently today.

And here's what's really important to understand: dysregulation isn't just about negative experiences. Dysregulation is anything that shifts us outside of our baseline.
Excitement is dysregulating. Joy is dysregulating. The threat response doesn't discern between excitement and fear. It just responds to escalation in the nervous system.

So if our PDA children are melting down, shutting down, or clinging harder than usual right now, that's not them being difficult. That is panic. That is a nervous system overwhelmed by the sheer volume of change, expectation, and sensory input that holidays bring. This is non volitional.

And if you're a PDA adult barely holding it together this weekend, I see you. We're not broken or weak or needing to build capacity or be more resilient 🤮.
We're highly attuned and that takes an incredible amount of energy to carry.

Here are a few gentle, practical things that help in our family and in my own life:

- In our home, I drop the expectations. If meals happen in the bedroom, that's okay. If meals are the same as every other day, there's a real wisdom in that. Predictability and familiarity are great friends to the nervous system.

- If my children are on a screen all day, that's okay. The screen isn't the problem. It may be the only thing that feels safe, predictable, and non-demanding right now.

- I lean into parallel presence instead of conversation. Just being in the same space without requiring engagement.
A drive with music on. Sitting nearby on my own device. Connection without demand.

This morning we started the day in the same way we start every day - a pot of tea, a game of Uno and Connect Four with some PDA jousting around who will kick whose arse first. This is one of our many anchors across the day to check in and coregulate.

- This is less common now that my children are older, but where my children are escalated, I try to match their energy rather than force calm. That doesn't mean escalating with them. It means meeting them where they are. A strong, steady voice that says "this IS a lot, yes..your big feelings are so smart and protective" will land more than a whisper telling them to calm down.

And if and when they're in shutdown or meltdown, I've learned that making space for that process is more helpful than offering solutions. Additional input in that moment is more for the nervous system to process, which can heighten the threat response.

- As a PDA adult, I meet myself with radical acceptance and not resistance. The more I judge and criticise myself for struggling, the more my threat response escalates.

- I externalise what's weighing on me. I write it down, put it in a note on my phone, close it, and walk away, have a chat out loud with myself or message friends. Getting it out of my head and somewhere else creates just enough psychological distance from the pressure.

- I give myself permission to withdraw. Cancel plans. Keep communication minimal. It’s self preservation.

- I weigh up the cost vs benefit - are we really happy and enjoying the way we're spending our time over the holiday season? What is our true experience of this? Who are we pleasing? What is the cost and is it truly worth going to the local event, family BBQ, etc? We are not our children, and our children are not us. We are living different lives, in different bodies with different wants and needs. Our children aren't necessarily missing out because they're not spending holidays the way we did.

- In the grand scheme of things, all that is life, how important is this?

And if the only thing I can do today is rest, then I rest. Deep rest. That is enough.

While I understand plenty of onlookers might judge us and be all about building capacity and modelling, etc..those same people aren’t bringing their energy around my children - I am. What I carry shows up in my parenting and so I feel a responsibility to be as compassionate and gentle with myself as I am with my children and to say "No thank you" to unsolicited advice, no matter how well intentioned.

I hope you’re able to be gentle with yourselves, with your children and with each other.

KF

04/04/2026

When I was in Year 8, a teacher wrote on one of my essays, "You should never use the words 'always' or 'never', because there's always an exception."

I never worked out whether she appreciated the self-refuting nature of what she said, but it certainly made it stick in my mind.

I sometimes think of this rule when I see parenting advice on social media.

It usually goes like this:

"If you do X, your child will do Y."

Someone in the comments section says, "I did X, and my child didn't do Y."

A debate then ensues, in which the louder camp insists that if the child didn't do Y, the parent must have done X wrong, or not done it consistently enough, or not tried hard enough, or should have started doing it at an earlier age.

This camp simply doesn't accept that children can be different, and that different children may respond in different ways to the same stimuli.

In fact, the same child can react in different ways to the same stimuli, depending on when they last ate or slept, their state of health, the weather, what they're wearing, what mood the parent is in, and dozens of other internal and external factors.

Anyone who claims to have a solution that always works is either deluded or raising a robot.

What we need to look at is the direction of travel. Yes, we've had a bad day - it might even have been an exceptionally bad day.

But have we had fewer bad days than we were having last month, or last year?

Have we been able to identify the trigger, where last year the outbursts seemed to come out of the blue?

Did we manage to defuse the situation sooner than we would have done a year ago?

Did the child display more self-awareness about what had happened and why?

If things feel worse than they did this time last year, why might that be? Reflecting on what else has changed in the child's life and on their developmental stage may give answers that either point towards a new approach or reassure us that some of what we're seeing is a normal part of growing up and testing boundaries.

We can't always have good days - nobody does. But having a bad day doesn't make you a bad parent.