If you’re a parent, it’s likely you’ve had this thought or a well-meaning peer or stranger has said something along these lines to you. It shows up everywhere. In parenting conversations, in classrooms, in church spaces, and even in the quiet ways we talk to ourselves.
It’s almost benign, right? It sounds practical. Clean. Solvable. If something isn’t working—if our kids aren’t listening, if a task isn’t getting done, if a moment feels like it’s slipping out of control—then the answer must be more structure, more consistency, more follow-through. More… discipline.
When I was writing an article last year, I did some research on this word. The word discipline derives its meaning from the Latin word for instruction or teaching. And with the passing of time and the evolution of language, the word came to adopt an implication of chastisement and punishment - especially by the 11th or 12th centuries, when it was more closely associated with military instruction. But that’s not what we’re doing as parents. We’re not preparing our children for combat.
Yes, structure helps, but tactical, strategic, structured training such that you function as a unit and obey for the sake of your duties in urgent circumstances? Not what we’re talking about here. Especially when we’re supporting kids navigating brain and bodies that navigate the world differently.
I shared about this briefly on Instagram recently, and got some questions and some feedback. But this is what I said in the caption:
Not every hard moment is a behavior issue. Sometimes it’s a nervous system doing its best to cope with too much input, too many demands, or not enough support. And when we misread that as defiance or disobedience, we respond in ways that escalate the situation instead of helping it. This is especially true for neurodivergent kids—and honestly, for a lot of adults too. Understanding what’s underneath the behavior doesn’t mean removing expectations. It means responding in a way that actually builds capacity over time.
Here’s what I mean. What we often simply describe as a discipline problem is, in many cases, something else entirely.
It might be influenced by sensory needs not being met. Maybe it’s sensory overload, a nervous system pushed past its limits by an environment that feels too loud or too bright or too unpredictable. Or it might be executive dysfunction, where the gap between knowing what to do and actually doing it is far wider than it appears to an outside observer because you can’t actually see when someone is having a tough time with their capacity or skills to execute on what seems “simple” or “basic” to you. Frankly, It might be the accumulated demands and weight of a day that has already asked too much, and even one more teeny tiny request lands as one thing too many. Or it’s burnout. Or delayed processing. Or it’s simply that the moment requires more capacity than a person has available. Because capacities fluctuate day to day and moment to moment, and this is true of all of us, but especially when our support needs are higher or more dynamic.
But when we don’t have language for those realities, we reach for the traditional parenting frameworks we’ve been given. We call it discipline. And once we name it that, our response follows predictably. We correct, repeat instructions, increase consequences, and assume that if we are clear enough, firm enough, consistent enough, the behavior will change.
And when it doesn’t, what happens? Do we escalate? Because if the underlying assumption remains… if this is a discipline issue, then will more discipline resolve it?
You can’t discipline a brain into development or into felt safety. You can’t correct and consequence your way into increased or more consistent capacity. I would guess that in the long term, it probably does the opposite.
I would guess that even if you do see short term “results”, in the long term you’re adding pressure to a system that is already in need of support. I would imagine you might end up seeing more resistance or more signs of dysregulation and distress over time… not because a kid is choosing to be difficult, but because the conditions for success were never consistently present to begin with.
And I know I’m talking about neurodivergent kids, especially, because I think the space between the expectations placed and the actual capacity can so often be misunderstood. But I think this isn’t limited to neurodivergence. I think this is true of all kids, and I think we could probably stand to be a little more accommodating of other adults, too.
At one time or another, we all move through our lives carrying the same patterns under different names. We call it procrastination, inconsistency, lack of discipline. We tell ourselves we should be able to do more, handle more, push through more. And yet, underneath those labels, the same realities often exist: overwhelm, misalignment, systems that don’t fit the way we actually function.
But I don’t think we’re struggling because we’re unwilling. Even for adults, neurodivergent or not, I think it’s about capacity. And capacity is shaped by far more than we tend to account for. It is shaped by environment, by sensory input, by emotional load, by past experiences, by how a brain processes demand, by how much has already been asked that day. When we ignore those factors, we flatten complex human experiences into simple moral categories. We assume that if something isn’t happening, it must be because someone isn’t trying hard enough.
But if we want people to grow—whether they are children or adults—we have to learn to ask better questions. Not just, “Why aren’t they doing this?” but, “What might be getting in the way?” Not just, “How do we correct this?” but, “What would make this possible?”
These questions don’t lower expectations. They help make our expectations more grounded in reality. They allow us to respond in ways that actually build and sustain capacity over time, instead of eroding it through constant correction. If we start looking at our capacity with curiosity instead of shame or frustration, we might notice an internal shift us from control to understanding, from assumption to grace and gentleness. And this gentleness might start to extend out to the people around us, too.
Because you cannot force capacity into existence through pressure alone. But you can create environments where people feel safe enough to try, safe enough to pause, safe enough to recover when things don’t go as planned. You can help people notice what they need and when they need to pivot before the struggle gets too intense to do something about it. And you can build systems that support growth instead of punishing struggle.
And regardless of how old we are, I think that’s the difference between a pattern that escalates and one that begins, slowly, to change.
It’s been so many months since I’ve had the margin to update here regularly. I’m adjusting to this season of life as a divorced single parent. I’m still not in a space where I feel like I am ready to share much about it beyond saying that, but it’s been a big adjustment. I’m so grateful for the kindness and the checking in. The number of internet friends who noticed and reached out was beautiful, and I’m grateful for this digital village that has come up around our family.
I’ve also turned on paid subscriptions for those who want to support this work. Everything I write here will remain free, but if this space has been meaningful to you, becoming a paid subscriber is one way to help sustain it—especially as I’m working on a book and building this work alongside caregiving and family life. You’ll also get access to some community calls and other perks. I’m grateful you’re here, in whatever way you’re able to be.
Ok. Here’s a random collection of words and news and a few things that are bringing us joy:
This children’s Bible has been an absolute delight. I may be enjoying The Book of Belonging more than my kids. The illustrations are diverse and the storytelling is so gentle.
The InvestiGators are winning us over. Speaking of children’s books, after we finished the Dog Man and Cat Kid series, we started these, and have absolutely loved them. Similarly structured (and similar amounts of toilet humor), they’ve been a bedtime favorite here.
What Actually Helps Us Parent Our Autistic Children. I was honored to share some thoughts with Heidi Fiedler in a post on Nebula Notebook for Autism Month. Lots of great input from many thoughtful parents here.
Attachment, Autonomy, and a Little Bit of Chaos. PDA North America hosted their annual conference last month, and I was honored to be a speaker. The recording for my talk is available here.
Words for the Season You’re In: A Writing Workshop for Parents of Neurodivergent Kids. Last year, I had hosted a few different workshops, and I’m excited to share that I’m bringing them back. The next workshop will be on May 2 at 12 pm EST. Paid subscribers who are Founding Members also get 1-2 free workshops a year.
That’s all for now. Until next time. 👋
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