When capacity runs out

It’s the end of term, and I’ve been thinking a lot about capacity.

Why is it that, just when so many of our children are already running on empty, the summer term becomes the busiest time of the year?

The routine changes almost daily. Sports days. School plays. Visitors. Special activities. Transition sessions.

Even when schools know our children struggle with change, there is still so much.

My child is in a lovely mainstream school. They genuinely do what they can, and I’m grateful for that. We get the timetable in advance so they know what’s coming, which certainly helps.

But knowing what’s coming isn’t the same as having the capacity to cope with it. Those are two very different things.

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve watched my child become more and more tired as the routine has shifted almost every day. Add in the heat, the excitement of the end of term, and the uncertainty of moving into a new classroom, their capacity has gradually been drained.

This week they desperately wanted to do something that everyone else was doing. They wanted to be part of it. They wanted to show me they could do it. They tried, they really did.

And then, in the moment, it was simply too much.

Watching them become completely overwhelmed was heartbreaking. They were devastated because they felt they were letting me down. But they couldn’t have been more wrong.

You see, I’ve had a child who masked. A child who would have pushed through at any cost. A child who learnt that other people’s expectations mattered more than their own needs. I’ve seen where that road leads.

So this time, once we’d helped them calm their body enough to think again, I told my child something I hope they’ll remember for years to come.

I told them how proud I was that they’d tried. But I told them I was even prouder that they’d recognised they couldn’t carry on. That they’d listened to their body. That they’d trusted me enough to say, “I can’t do this.” That they hadn’t forced themselves to keep going simply because everyone else could.

That isn’t failure. That’s self-awareness. That’s learning where your limits are. That’s learning that your needs matter too.

Our children have nothing to prove. Not to us. Not to school. Not to anyone. Sometimes success isn’t standing on the stage.

Sometimes success is recognising you’ve reached your limit before pushing yourself into complete overwhelm.

As we head towards the end of term, if your child seems more emotional than usual, more exhausted, more anxious or more reactive, it doesn’t necessarily mean anything has gone wrong.

It may simply mean their capacity has run out.

And whilst the summer holidays often bring a sense of relief, they can also bring a whole new set of challenges. Losing the routine can feel unsettling before everyone finds their feet again.

I’m hoping that, after a week or so, my own family will begin to slow down. That the constant demands will ease, everyone will catch up on some much-needed rest, and we’ll settle into a rhythm that works for us.

If that’s where you are right now, I see you.

I know how hard it is to watch your child desperately want to do the things everyone else seems to manage so easily.

But please remember this. Your child’s worth isn’t measured by how well they keep up with everyone else. And neither is yours.

Be gentle with them over these next couple of weeks. And be gentle with yourself too.