What if we stopped teaching ourselves and our children to tolerate more?

September, nervous system regulation and why sensitive, ADHD and autistic children may need more than simply time to adjust.

September is intense.

For our children. For us as parents. And often even more so for sensitive and neurodivergent nervous systems.

A few weeks into the back-to-school transition, I often see the weight of it beginning to show, both in the families I work with and in my own.

For one child, it might look like bigger emotions or more challenging behaviour at home. For another, difficulty sleeping. School anxiety. Resistance around homework. Exhaustion. Headaches or tummy aches. More tears. More meltdowns. A greater need to retreat or decompress.

And some of this really is just transition.

New teachers. New faces. New expectations. New rules. New rhythms. Sometimes a whole new school.

Even when everything is going well, that is a huge amount for a nervous system to process, particularly for sensitive, ADHD and autistic children.

So there is real value in reminding ourselves, and our children:

We are still adjusting. This is temporary. Things will soften.

Some things genuinely need time.

But every September, I also ask myself another question: what if we don’t need to adjust to everything?

Because just because our nervous system eventually gets used to something doesn’t mean what it is getting used to stops being harmful.

Our nervous systems have an extraordinary capacity to adapt.

That capacity is essential. It allows us to navigate change, challenge and uncertainty.

But it also means we can become accustomed to an enormous amount.

We can get used to days that are too full.

To living with a constant sense of urgency.

To rushing from the moment we wake up until we finally collapse at night.

To children coming home completely depleted from school.

To evenings dominated by homework, logistics and negotiation.

To weekends beginning at 8am and leaving no room to simply be.

Over time, what felt like too much in September can simply start to feel... normal.

But normal does not necessarily mean healthy.

Our nervous system can normalise stress

We often imagine stress as something we should clearly feel.

But chronic stress doesn’t always feel dramatic.

When a level of activation becomes familiar, we stop consciously noticing just how much tension we are carrying.

We function.

We get things done.

We organise the next thing.

We become very good at coping.

And sometimes we even interpret that ability to keep going as evidence that everything is fine.

Until, eventually, the body or mind says stop.

This is one of the reasons I think we need to be careful about making “coping better” the only goal.

Our capacity to tolerate something is not proof that it is good for us.

And perhaps nowhere does this matter more than for sensitive and neurodivergent families.

Maybe our children don’t always need to become better at tolerating the world

So much of what we ask of ADHD, autistic and other neurodivergent children is still centred around helping them function within systems that were not designed with their nervous systems in mind.

Tolerate the noise.

Sit still for longer.

Cope with the workload.

Manage the transition.

Keep up with the schedule.

Become more resilient.

And of course, building skills matters. Supporting children to navigate frustration, uncertainty, challenge and change matters enormously.

I am not interested in creating a life in which our children never experience discomfort.

But I do think we need to ask another question alongside:

Does my child need support to adapt to this, or does something about this need to change?

Those are two very different questions.

And sometimes the most supportive thing we can do is not teach a child to tolerate more.

It is to change what we are asking their nervous system to tolerate.

This is what I like about September

For me, September is both.

It is a time to give ourselves grace while we adjust.

And it is a time to listen carefully to what the difficulty might be showing us.

Maybe five after-school activities are simply too many.

Maybe our weekends need more empty space.

Maybe every piece of homework does not need to become a battle.

Maybe we need to speak to a teacher about workload, expectations or accommodations, particularly for a neurodivergent child for whom getting through the school day already requires enormous amounts of energy.

Maybe the house does not need to be immaculate.

Maybe we don’t need an activity first thing on Saturday and Sunday.

Maybe one evening a week needs to contain absolutely nothing.

Maybe something everyone else seems to manage simply doesn’t work for our family.

And maybe that is enough of a reason to do it differently.

And what about us?

I think parents deserve to ask ourselves exactly the same questions.

What have we become accustomed to simply because everyone around us seems to be doing it?

The mental load.

The workload.

The logistics.

The constant planning and anticipating.

The pressure to manage our careers, our children, our relationships, our homes, their activities, their appointments, their school lives, their emotional needs...

And somehow make the whole thing look effortless.

At some point, we have to question the idea that the solution is always to become more efficient, more organised, more resilient or better regulated so that we can continue carrying more.

Caring for our nervous system also means giving ourselves permission to ask less of it.

To simplify.

To say no.

To ask for adjustments.

To challenge an expectation.

To leave something out.

To choose spaciousness even when the world around us celebrates busyness.

So this September, notice before you normalise

There are things that feel hard right now because they are new.

They need patience, reassurance and time.

And there may be other things that feel hard because they simply take too much from you or your child.

Those deserve our curiosity.

Before the new routine becomes automatic, September gives us a small window in which we can still notice its impact.

What feels good?

What feels sustainable?

What leaves everyone depleted?

What are we doing because it genuinely matters to us?

And what are we doing simply because this is what families are apparently supposed to do?

We do not have to redesign our entire lives every September.

But we can listen.

We can question.

And we can make small, conscious choices about what deserves a place in our family life.

Because I don’t want to build a family life centred around what our nervous systems are capable of enduring and learning to tolerate.

I want to build one around what they actually need, so that we are not simply functioning, but have the space to breathe, to feel fully ourselves, and to thrive.

If this resonates with you, if you’re a sensitive or neurodivergent family trying to create a life that feels more aligned with who you are, rather than constantly trying to keep up with a world that can feel relentlessly busy, you don’t have to figure it all out alone.

I offer coaching for sensitive and neurodivergent children, teens and parents, in both English and French. Together, we can explore what your child or family truly needs and find ways to create more understanding, connection and space in everyday life.

If you’d like to explore what support could look like for your family, book a free discovery call. 🤍

With Love

Isabelle