When your child goes straight for the jugular

There’s something we don’t talk about much as parents of neurodivergent – and especially PDA – children. Our children seem to instinctively know how to push our buttons. It’s like they can sense our weak spot and go straight for it. In PDA circles you’ll sometimes hear it called “going for the jugular.”

For me, my weak spot has always been when one of my children directs their distress towards someone else. Watching one child attempt to hurt another triggers something primal – the urge to protect – and it’s incredibly hard to manage without reacting. Trying to balance everyone feeling loved, safe and accepted in those moments is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

In those moments it’s easy to forget everything you’ve learned. Even though you know your child is dysregulated, even though you know their nervous system is in fight or flight, it still feels personal. Early on in my journey, before I really understood PDA, it made no sense to me. The behaviour seemed extreme and illogical. My own nervous system was already on high alert, and then – wham – my child would go straight for my weak spot.

And here’s the bit we almost never say out loud: the rage that can rise up in us as parents. The snap. The shout. The harsh words we regret almost immediately. The crushing guilt afterwards – “I’ve undone all the trust I’ve been working so hard to build” – that voice telling you you’re failing, you’re not good enough.

If this is you, please know you’re not alone. Feeling rage in the moment doesn’t make you a bad parent. It makes you human.

What matters is what we do next. For me, that’s been learning to regulate my own nervous system, stepping back, breathing, remembering Dr Ross Greene’s words: “Your child isn’t giving you a hard time, they’re having a hard time.” When we can shift our lens and see the behaviour as distress rather than defiance, it gives us just enough space to respond differently.

And when we do snap – because sometimes we still will – the most powerful thing we can do is take ownership, apologise, and model the repair:

“I got that wrong. I’m sorry I raised my voice. It was all too much for me.”

This shows our kids that mistakes happen, that feelings can get big, and that repair is possible.

You’re not failing. You’re doing an incredibly hard job under relentless conditions. Even tiny steps towards your own regulation matter.