When your child can’t go to school

Emotionally Based School Avoidance (EBSA) is something many families in this community are living with, although it often feels like a very lonely place to be.

There are lots of reasons children may find it difficult to access school. Sensory overwhelm is a big one. Classrooms can be loud, busy, unpredictable places, and for some nervous systems that level of input is simply too much.

There can also be struggles with communication or navigating social situations with peers. Some children feel like they just don’t fit in anywhere.

Sometimes the difficulty is around the way learning is delivered. Their brain may need information presented in a different way in order to engage with it. Performance anxiety can play a role too. If something feels like it might be too hard, they may avoid trying altogether.

And sometimes there has been a distressing experience at school and now their nervous system registers the environment as unsafe. Once that threat response is there, it’s incredibly difficult to override.

Often it isn’t just one thing. It’s a build up of many different pressures over time.

One of my children is still in mainstream and would probably be classed as something of a ‘SEN-betweener’. For them, sensory overwhelm plays a huge role. School is very loud, there are far too many children, it’s unpredictable, and transitions are extremely difficult.

But what I really wanted to talk about today is something else.

What living with EBSA does to you as a parent.

You can find yourself standing at the school gate, if your child has managed to go in at all, listening to other parents chatting about homework or small school frustrations and you feel completely different. Almost like an alien in that space.

Because your reality looks nothing like that.

People don’t see the battles that happened before you even left the house. The amount of scaffolding you’ve had to put around the morning just to get that far.

Helping them get dressed. Helping them get their shoes on. Managing each transition carefully so that things don’t tip over. Walking on eggshells because you don’t know which moment might be the one that becomes too much.

Your nervous system is constantly on alert, anticipating, adjusting, trying to keep things steady. It’s exhausting, and most of it is invisible to anyone who isn’t living it.

Over time many parents begin to feel very isolated. Life can become smaller because your child struggles to leave the house or cope with environments that other families move through without thinking.

Friendships drift away, not because you don’t care, but because your capacity is being used elsewhere.

There is the constant advocating. The researching. Trying to help professionals understand what is happening. Sometimes feeling blamed, judged or not believed. There is the fear too. Fear of attendance fines. Fear of being seen as a parent who simply isn’t trying hard enough.

And there are losses that sit quietly in the background. Careers that have had to pause or end. Financial pressure. The loss of independence and autonomy that many parents experience when their child needs them at home more than anyone expected.

Of course we would always choose our children. They come first, every time. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t parts of ourselves that get lost along the way.

Sometimes there are complicated feelings as well. You might notice a pang of jealousy when you see other families doing things you once assumed your family would do too. School runs that look easy. Clubs. Sleepovers. Days out. Simple routines that feel completely out of reach. Then the guilt arrives for even thinking that.

It’s a lot to carry.

And when you’ve been living with this level of pressure for a long time, it takes a real toll on your nervous system. That’s something I want to talk about more openly, which is why from 16 March 2026 I’m running a free 4-day mini course designed to help you step out of survival and begin finding some calm. It’s just 15 minutes a day, and if you can’t make it live no problem.

Across the four days we’ll explore what happens to your nervous system when you’ve been living in constant hyper-vigilance, why so many parents of neurodivergent children end up in survival mode, and how small shifts can begin to bring moments of steadiness back into your day.

It isn’t about fixing your child or forcing anything to change overnight. It’s about understanding what’s happening inside your own body and mind, and learning ways to support yourself while you continue caring for your child.

I’d love for you to join me.

Sign up here