The Belief That Most Dysregulates Parents — Especially With PDA and Demand-Avoidant Children

**You can also listen to this in audio format only on The Regulated Mother Podcast on Apple or Spotify. Look for Episode #32

**Below is the blog article for easy reading.

They Can Do It… So Why Won’t They?

Have you ever felt like your child is able to do something…but they just won’t?

Like — when they want to go to the zoo, they suddenly run to put on their shoes.
But on school mornings, you end up putting their shoes on for them every single day.

Or they won’t get their own snack when you’re around…but the moment they really want candy or a treat, they somehow manage to get it themselves.

And your mind starts trying to make sense of it.

So they CAN do it.
They’re capable.
Then why won’t they do it with me?

And slowly, almost without realizing it, another meaning creeps in.

They’re being defiant.
They’re choosing this.
They can do it — they just won’t.
They’re doing this to me on purpose.

And once that meaning takes hold, something shifts inside you.

You feel frustrated.
Maybe angry.
Maybe trapped or taken advantage of.
Your body tightens. Your patience drops. Your reactions get bigger.

If you’re parenting a PDA or highly demand-avoidant child, this moment is incredibly common — and incredibly dysregulating.

And here’s what I want you to know:

That reaction that comes when your child seemingly “won’t” do something is so common…Why? Because it’s a very old, very conditioned belief that just got activated in your nervous system. And that belief is some flavor of ““My child could do better… but won’t.”

I think this is the #1 belief that gets activated in so many of us parenting PDA kids.

So, in this episode, we’re going to slow this moment way down.

We’ll explore where this belief comes from, why it’s so deeply ingrained, and why it triggers such intense reactions in parents — even when we understand PDA.

And most importantly, we’ll look at how to begin shifting this belief in a way that actually works — not through willpower or positive thinking, but through your nervous system.

If you’ve ever felt confused by your child’s abilities and unsettled by your own reactions, this episode is for you.

Let’s begin.

 

When Ability Looks Like Choice

I used to feel deeply confused about my son’s abilities.

There were many everyday things he didn’t want to do for himself — getting his own snacks, putting things away, cleaning up after himself.  It genuinely seemed like he wasn’t able, so I would step in and do it for him.

But then things would happen that completely unsettled me.

On nights when he stayed up late and I went to bed, I would wake up the next morning to find that he had gone into the fridge or cupboards and gotten his own food. Other times, when he was alone, I would notice him organizing things or putting items away — things he had refused to do earlier when I was around.

And my brain immediately tried to make sense of it.

So he can do these things.

And that’s when another thought crept in — one that didn’t feel good at all.

Then why won’t he do them when I’m there?

Slowly, almost without realizing it, my nervous system began to interpret this as willful. Defiant. On purpose.

And with that interpretation came something else.

I started getting frustrated.
I started getting angry.
I felt manipulated and taken advantage of.

I would think things like:
Why am I always the one doing everything?
Why does he suddenly become capable when I’m not around?
Is he just refusing because he knows I’ll step in?

I often heard echoes in my head of judgment from outside professionals, extended family, or friends saying things like, “You just need to stop doing things for him and he’ll do it himself,” which left me feeling ashamed — as if accommodating him meant I was somehow being a bad parent.

So then, reactions would escalate. My tone would harden. My body would tense.

And without meaning to, I began seeing my child through a lens of intentional refusal rather than nervous system stress.

I share this because I hear versions of this story from parents all the time.

“My child refuses to put on their shoes or do anything for themselves — but the moment it’s something they really want, suddenly they can do it.”

And the question that follows is almost always the same:

Is this a motivation issue?
A will issue?
A choice?
Are they doing this on purpose?

And this is where a very specific belief often takes root.

 

The belief that quietly takes hold

For many parents of PDA children, a belief begins to form or emerge — often unconsciously.

“My child could do better… but won’t.”

It can sound like:
“They’re capable, they’re just refusing.”
“They’re choosing this.”
“If they really wanted to, they could stop.”

“If they really wanted to, they would do it.”
“They don’t care how this affects me.”

Most parents don’t want to believe this.

But when we see inconsistency — when a child can do something sometimes and not others — the brain fills in the gap using the meanings it already knows.

And those meanings run deep.

To understand why this belief is so powerful, we have to zoom out.

 

How we were conditioned to believe behavior is about will

For much of history, human behavior has been understood through the lens of will, effort, and character.

If someone wasn’t doing what was expected, the explanation was simple:
they didn’t want to badly enough.

Later, behaviorism reinforced this idea in a different form. Behavior was framed as something driven by motivation, reinforcement, and consequences. If behavior didn’t change, the assumption was that the incentive wasn’t strong enough — or that the person simply wasn’t trying hard enough.

Many of us were raised inside families, schools, and systems shaped by this worldview.

Layered on top of that were cultural messages like:
“If you just try hard enough, you can do anything.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
“Don’t make excuses.”

Underneath all of these messages sits the same core assumption:

Capacity is a choice.
Effort creates ability.

But for many of us, this didn’t stay a belief — it became a survival strategy.

 

When this belief becomes survival wiring

For many of us, this conditioning wasn’t just abstract.

It was relational.

As children, when we struggled, froze, resisted, or couldn’t meet expectations, we were often seen as:

• Lazy
• Defiant
• Rebellious
• Unmotivated

And that didn’t just feel bad — it threatened belonging.

So the nervous system adapted.

Many of us learned to:

• push ourselves past our limits
• override our bodies
• force compliance
• prove our worth through effort

And here’s the part that really locks this belief in.

When we did succeed under pressure, the nervous system concluded:
“See — it really was about will. You just weren’t trying hard enough before.”

Pressure → override → success → belief reinforced.

This pattern often followed us into adulthood — and then into parenting.

And for a long time, we may have believed this pattern was a good one. It got us to where we are. It helped us perform, achieve, and function in the world.

But it came at a cost.

Over time, it added a significant stress load to our nervous systems. And it quietly taught us that if we don’t push, override, or force ourselves to keep going, then we are somehow not worthy of love, belonging, or success.

And this is exactly where things begin to fall apart when we parent our PDA children from this mental model and belief system.

 

Why this model breaks down completely with PDA children

Now enter a PDA nervous system.

PDA children do not respond to pressure with increased effort.
They respond with loss of access.

When expectation, demand, or perceived loss of autonomy shows up, the nervous system detects threat. And when threat is detected, capacity does not increase — it disappears.

They do not develop the protective survival strategy to override themselves to please us, like many neurotypical kids too, and like we ourselves did. 

What we see instead are more intense, reactionary survival responses:

• Fight
• Flight
• Freeze
• Shutdown

These states are not defiance.
They are not choices or decisions that are willful or come from the higher thinking brain.
They are not failures of motivation or character.

They are the nervous system taking over in an attempt to protect, because they don’t feel safe anymore. 

From a neuroscience-based lens, behavior is driven by state, not will.

And state is shaped by one core question:
Does this nervous system feel safe right now?

This isn’t just true for PDA children.
It’s true for all of us.

We all have abilities that exist — and a nervous system that determines whether we can access those abilities in any given moment.

On days when we feel rested, supported, and safe, our capacity is higher. We can take on more responsibility without it feeling heavy. We can think clearly, problem-solve, and show up with flexibility.

But on days when we’re exhausted, overwhelmed, under pressure, or carrying too much, our capacity drops. Even simple tasks can feel unbearable. The nervous system can push back through resistance, avoidance, procrastination, or shutdown — not because we lack ability or are using our will to defy, but because capacity is low.

The ability is still there.
The nervous system just doesn’t have access to it that day.

When we understand this in ourselves, it becomes easier to see what’s happening in our children — especially PDA children, whose nervous systems are far more sensitive to threat, demand, and pressure, and whose capacity can fluctuate much more dramatically.

And yet, even with this conscious understanding, the subconscious, deeply wired in mental models of behavior keeps pulling us back into reactionary mode. 

 

Why your brain keeps seeing “willfulness” anyway

Let’s take a moment and look at what neuroscience tells us about how the brain actually works.

Our brains don’t take in reality neutrally.
They filter reality based on the beliefs and meanings we already hold from past experiences and conditioning.

What this means is that if, deep down — often unconsciously — we hold the belief that a person’s ability depends on their willingness, then our brain will automatically filter behavior through that meaning.

It will selectively notice the parts of behavior that confirm the belief.

In other words, the brain doesn’t look for new explanations — it looks for more evidence of what it already believes. It simply creates more of the same.

Early meanings become mental models, and those models shape what the brain notices and what it ignores. And under chronic stress — which is extremely common in PDA parenting — this filtering system becomes even more rigid and threat-biased.

This is where the Reticular Activating System, or RAS, comes in.

The RAS is a system in the brainstem that decides:

• what gets noticed
  
  
• what gets prioritized
  
  
• what gets filtered out
  
  

When the RAS is threat-biased, it flags behavior through the lens of our old mental models.

So it might interpret:

• this behavior as refusal
  
  
• inconsistency as evidence that this is about motivation and will
  
  
• moments when your child seems capable as proof that they are capable — and therefore choosing not to do it now
  
  

At the same time, it often filters out:

• signs of overwhelm
  
  
• nervous system collapse
  
  
• the role of safety and threat in determining access to capacity
  
  

So even when you understand PDA intellectually, your brain may still interpret behavior through old meanings — especially when you’re tired, triggered, or scared.

And those meanings don’t just shape what you see.

They shape how your nervous system reacts.

 

Why this belief creates such strong reactions in parents

The moment the brain believes “they could but won’t,” your nervous system responds accordingly.

Anger makes sense.
Frustration makes sense.
Urgency makes sense - feeling like it’s your responsibility to change your child. 

Because now the situation is framed as:
There is a problem that should be fixable — and it isn’t being fixed.

That meaning alone can push parents into:

• A fight response - either pushing, correcting, insisting, or disconnecting by not “giving in” and accommodating, or…
• A collapse or shame response (“Why can’t I handle this better? I’m failing as a parent.”)

This isn’t a parenting flaw.
It’s a nervous system responding to the meaning it is seeing this all through.

So the real question becomes: what actually has to change?

 

What actually has to change 

Shifting this belief is not about forcing yourself to think differently or trying to get your child to change.

It’s about updating the nervous system and the meanings it’s running.

That begins with three key recognitions.

1. Recognize how deep this conditioning goes

Instead of arguing with the belief, start with curiosity.

Ask yourself:
Where did I learn this? (that someone’s ability is about their willingness?)
Who taught me that effort equals worth?
What happened to me when I couldn’t comply or perform? What beliefs did I take on about myself then?

Seeing the origin of the belief softens shame and opens space for compassion.

Once we understand where the belief came from, we can begin to work with it — not against it.

 

2. Gently update the brain’s models — not through logic, but safety

Beliefs formed in survival don’t change through reasoning alone.
They change when the nervous system feels safe enough to take in new meaning.

This is where the practice of Havening can be a powerful support.

Havening is a psychosensory modality that uses gentle, repetitive touch — typically on the hands, arms, or face — to calm the amygdala, the brain’s threat center. When the amygdala settles, the brain becomes more open to perspective, context, and learning.

So while we calm the amygdala and nervous system with Havening touch, we can invite in new meanings using curiosity rather than force.

You might apply Havening touch while softly repeating, with genuine curiosity:

“What if my child’s capacity disappears when their nervous system feels threatened?”
“What if this behavior is a loss of access — not a lack of willingness?”
“What if my child isn’t choosing this, but their nervous system is taking over?”
“What if safety, not pressure, is what brings capacity back online?”

You are not trying to convince yourself of these beliefs.
You’re simply inviting the possibility of seeing things differently.

Curiosity itself stimulates neuroplasticity.
It tells the brain: we’re safe enough to explore.

And when you invite in these new beliefs, you are allowing your nervous system to experience a different explanation — one that removes moral judgment and restores accurate context.

And when the nervous system has context, it no longer has to stay in defense believing the old meaning.

Urgency softens.
Anger has somewhere to go.
The brain’s threat filter (including the RAS) begins to relax and filter in data to go towards the new meaning.

From this place, regulation and choice become possible again — not because your child has changed, but because the meaning your nervous system is operating from has.

And finally, there is one more layer to this work.

 

3. Recognize how you see your child is connected to how you see yourself

This part may take time to land.

But often, the way we interpret our child’s behavior mirrors how we were taught to interpret our own struggles.

Ask yourself gently:

• How many times did I believe, “If I try harder, I’ll succeed”?
  
  
• What am I afraid would happen if I stopped believing that?
  
  
• What feelings would surface if I fully let go of this belief?
  
  

For many parents, the answers touch into grief, shame, and old wounds around worth and effort — beliefs like:

• “I am not worthy or lovable if I’m being willful or defiant.”
  
  
• “If I’m not doing something, it must be because I’m lazy, resistant, or choosing not to.”
  
  

When these beliefs were formed early, we often developed protective strategies to be the opposite — to try harder, perform more, or override ourselves — in order to stay safe, accepted, or valued in the world.

So the belief doesn’t stay because it’s true.

It stays because it was shown to us as truth, and we unconsciously accepted it as such. Over time, the performance-based strategies we formed became a way of protecting ourselves from feeling the pain that was created by that belief in the first place.

 

A Larger Shift We’re Being Invited Into

Shifting this belief matters — not just for our own families, but for the world we are shaping.

For a long time, our culture has interpreted behavior through judgment, will, and moral failure. And that lens has caused immense harm — especially to children, to neurodivergent people, and to anyone whose nervous system doesn’t function well under pressure.

Shifting this belief is part of a much larger movement:
learning to see human behavior through a nervous system and trauma-informed lens.

When we stop asking, “Why won’t they?”
and start asking, “What’s happening in their nervous system?”
we change not only how we parent — but how we relate, educate, support, and care for one another.

And many of our children — especially PDA and highly sensitive children — are leading us there.

They are showing us, often through struggle, that pressure doesn’t create health.

That safety matters more than compliance.

And that capacity — what a nervous system can access in any given moment — is shaped by safety, not a reflection of character, effort, or intent.

When we do this work, we are not just helping our children.

We are participating in a quieter, deeper shift toward a more compassionate and humane world.

And that work begins — as so much healing does — within us parents first.