What Helped (And What Definitely Didn’t)

Here we go… right back at it.

Once I learned that I can’t untangle Eli’s needs by pulling on one thread at a time — and that I have to understand how all the threads are woven together instead (ADHD, autism, learning differences, PDA, regulation) — the next set of questions rolls in fast:

Okay. Got it. Now what?

So I take stock:
What I know actually helps → predictability, boundaries, options, simple communication, low demands.
And what I need to stop doing immediately before I make this worse → consequences, punishments, rewards/token economies, extra pushing.

What I learn pretty quickly is that there’s no magic formula. No laminated charts. No “if you do X, then Y will happen.” What we find instead comes from trial, error, tears — LOTS of tears — and a whole lot of me eating crow.

So let’s start with what doesn’t help — even though everyone swears it will.

More pressure doesn’t help. Not higher expectations. Not “he’s capable of more.” Not pushing through. Pressure shuts everything down.
Consequences don’t help. Taking things away. Missing recess. Behavior charts. All they do is pile shame on top of anxiety.
Rewards don’t help. Sticker charts, points, earning privileges — they backfire. Hard. If anything, they make him more anxious.
Holding the line just to hold the line doesn’t help. Consistency without flexibility doesn’t teach responsibility — it teaches him that the world isn’t safe enough to try.
Talking more doesn’t help. Reasoning longer. Saying it “a different way.” His brain isn’t confused. It’s flooded.

None of these fail because we’re doing them wrong. They fail because they ignore regulation. What does help doesn’t look impressive. It doesn’t look productive. And honestly? It felt wrong at first.

It looks like slowing way down, backing off, and choosing connection over compliance — again and again. Because nothing — and I mean nothing — works unless Eli feels safe in his body.

Not learning.
Not communication.
Not cooperation.

Once I stop asking, “How do I make him do this?” and start asking, “Is his nervous system calm enough to access this?” everything shifts. Some days, regulation is the work. And that has to be enough. Lowering demand doesn’t mean giving up or lowering expectations forever. It means taking the pressure out of the ask.

Choices help.
Collaborative language helps.
Breaking things into teeny tiny pieces helps.
And sometimes? Not doing the thing at all helps.
When the demand goes down, access goes up.

Predictability Without Locking Him In
Eli needs to know what’s coming — but not feel trapped by it.

Visual schedules.
Clear starts and stops.
A heads-up before changes.

Fewer Words. More Presence.
When Eli is dysregulated, talking often makes it worse. What helps is sitting quietly nearby, matching his energy instead of overpowering it, and letting silence do some of the heavy lifting. Feeling safe speaks louder than explanations ever can.

Letting Skills Come Back on Their Own Time
This humbles me. Skills don’t disappear because he loses them. They disappear because anxiety blocks access. When pressure eases, skills come back. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes all at once. That teaches me to trust his brain more than my fear.

And Then There’s Me
This part? Brutal. I have to slow my body down.  Lower my voice.  Notice my anxiety when things aren’t going according to plan. Because kids borrow regulation from the adults around them — and I’ve been running on empty for a long time. This is the hardest work. And the most important.

What I know now is this: helping Eli is never about fixing him. It’s about creating enough safety for his nervous system to stop defending itself long enough to learn.

When that happens, progress doesn’t feel like a fight anymore. And that’s where we’re headed next.

Because now that we know what helped — and what hurt — it’s time to talk honestly about what support actually looks like… especially when the systems around your child weren’t built with kids like ours in mind.

🪙 Nickel from the Jar
Sometimes progress doesn’t come from pushing harder — it comes from finally making things feel safe enough to try.

Susan