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Social Fertility: Leadership, Motherhood and Life · Feb 10, 2025

Macro-Scale Dysregulation and Democracy

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Nikki Silvestri · Social Fertility: Leadership, Motherhood and Life

My children fight.

“But I want a turn RIGHT NOW!” My son’s tiny fists fly toward my daughter’s arm, and I grab them midair.

“I don’t like you!” My daughter’s tiny feet lash out toward my son’s leg, and I catch them just in time.

In moments like this, I am eternally grateful to Tosha Schore and Dr. Becky Kennedy for all they’ve taught me about connective parenting that works to mitigate difficult behaviors—especially loving containment and loving limits.

Containment, Limits and Protection: For Kids

Here’s what I’ve learned (I’m a work in progress! I’m practicing this in real-time in my home, and learning more every day.) Sometimes a child is so dysregulated, so overwhelmed by their emotions, that they can’t keep themselves or others safe. This looks like flailing, attempting to hit, etc. In those moments, I must physically pick them up, bring them to a smaller space, and remove them from the big, chaotic expanse that is letting their feelings run wild. I must be the sturdy leader who holds the boundary until they settle. (I love the way Dr. Becky talks about parents as “sturdy leaders”.)

They will not thank me for it. They will rage against me for doing it. And my job, as their sturdy leader, is simply to say, "I won’t let you hit. I won’t let you throw that. I won’t let you break that. My job as your parent is to keep you safe, and right now, that looks like me carrying you into your room and staying with you through these big feelings." I know they don’t yet have the skills to handle the level of sensation they’re experiencing. My job is to keep myself regulated in the face of their upset, and co-regulate their nervous systems with my calm. Literally teach their body how to integrate overwhelming sensation by modeling calm. In this smaller space I can catch little fists and feet, wrap my body around theirs in a firm full-body hug, and breathe deeply as their bodies stabilize. The idea is that over time, as this happens repeatedly, they get better and better at self-regulation.

This is what love and protection looks like.

Containment, Limits and Protection: For Our Country

I’m reflecting on the relationship between the loving containment I’m practicing with my children and the kind of containment our country and leaders need right now.

We're in a time where individuals with strong interests and the willingness to push the limits of legality—even beyond legality—are willing to break things just to see what kind of pushback they get. It feels very similar to when my 4-year-old tests boundaries, pushing to see how far she can go. She’s essentially asking: When will there be a healthy limit that shows me my boundaries and helps keep us both safe?

It feels like that’s what’s happening in our country right now.

I’ve been following Jessica Yellin’s News Not Noise on Substack and Instagram. I used to avoid the news, but she’s been helping me stay informed and sane at the same time. (So grateful.) Through her, I’ve learned about Elon Musk attempting to gain access to the private information of federal civil servants—bank codes, addresses, insurance details, retirement accounts, employment records; the freeze of USAID; the CIA workforce being offered buyouts; and other chaos.

Boundaries are being pushed to see where the limits will be.

Macro-Scale Dysregulation and Democracy

When my kids start throwing fists, their emotional sensation is outpacing their self-regulation skills. I’m curious about that dynamic on a macro scale—how it plays out in the centuries of shame, rage, and fear we’ve carried as a country. There’s the current existential fear of change and loss in our shifting climates—ecological, economic, and social. There’s our day-to-day anxiety. We can’t afford to buy homes. Food is expensive. Parents of young children are quietly losing our minds.

So many Americans are scared and angry at a fundamental, existential level. And in many ways, it’s always been this way. Fear of difference. Fear of not having enough for our families and communities if we share. Anger at others for pointing out dehumanizing behaviors.

As Gabor Maté has been schooling me on a trauma-informed way of looking at society and the way we live (the "Myth of Normal"), I’ve been reflecting on whether many—most?—of us might be struggling with self-regulation. It wasn’t mainstream to co-regulate children’s nervous systems when folks my age and older were growing up. So now, the adults running corporations, occupying elected offices, and controlling news media are feeling all these big feelings, tapping into others who have these same big feelings, and functionally have the self-regulation skills of small children—complete with lies becoming synonymous with truth, an inability to tolerate authentic communication, and a willingness to harm others to accomplish their aims.

I’m wondering if we’re witnessing macro-scale dysregulation breaking democracy.

“Should”, Grief and Action

Loving containment and co-regulation, for me, is a practice. I catch myself in co-dependent parenting behaviors all the time. When I’m stressed, I want my kids to behave so I don’t get upset. I want them to modulate their emotions to my comfort level because I work so hard for them and do so much.

For the first few years of my son’s life, I couldn’t co-regulate him. I would get so angry when he pushed against limits and boundaries. How dare he? Having to constantly assert my boundaries was exhausting because it revealed how disordered they really were and forced me to excavate deep layers of my self-worth and self-esteem.

I shouldn’t have to work this hard to parent. I should have more support. Should.

One of the ways I’m engaging my inner work around what’s happening in our country is by interrogating my preoccupation with "should" and noticing where it interferes with my ability to act. This shouldn’t be happening. People shouldn’t take advantage of each other like this. Leaders shouldn’t be violating federal laws and human rights. I wrestled with this when I got my Master’s degree in African American studies. We shouldn’t be discriminated against as a people. I shouldn’t have to prove my value as a human being.

In my spiritual and reflective practice, I meet "should" with "what is." I am safe in my essential nature. I have inherent value that can never be challenged, changed, or taken away. If I do not see my perfection as an infinite being, I have access to practices that can help me see myself more clearly.

I’m just speaking for myself—but I’ve noticed that "should" robs me of the ability to be present and to fully grieve.

When I’m stuck in "should," I can carry my son to his room if he’s having a hard moment, but my body won’t soften enough to co-regulate him. He shouldn’t be acting this way. I should be a better parent. He stays upset, I stay upset, and we struggle.

Lately, I’ve remembered more often to pause, put my hand on my chest, breathe, and regulate myself. To acknowledge "what is" and calm my mind. When I do, I feel sadness for his struggle. I am present to his pain. And he melts into my arms.

When I access "what is," I can grieve. I can mourn what my people did not have, what was taken from my Black family over centuries, what our society withholds from parents, what it fails to provide its citizens by way of care.

When I access "what is," I can direct my rage into action. I can call my elected officials and ask for accountability. I can reach out to my advocate friends and ask what else I can do. I can practice the Serenity Prayer, stop "doing" when I have nothing left to give, and re-focus on taking care of myself and my family.

For some, this looks like the legal teams pushing back against DOGE right now. This looks like refusing to accept locked doors, using whatever tools we have at our disposal to reclaim access, and creating limits. Jessica Yellin has been advocating for all of us to call our elected officials, urging them to be our sturdy leaders.

I’m grateful to my parenting journey for giving me access to these inquiries. Here’s to sturdy leadership.

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