PDA, test scores and silly cat videos

This week I heard a story that demonstrates so clearly the importance of nervous system safety for our PDA children and teens.

I was on a coaching call with a mom, whose teenage PDA daughter sat off camera and chimed in every so often.

They told me that when the teen was 14 years old and still able to attend school, she took a standardized test and scored quite low: 4.8 out of 10. 

She then hit burnout and couldn’t attend school.

But then the next time she took the test - the same standardized, multi-hour test - her mother was allowed to sit with her during the test and, if needed, read her the test questions. And this time the PDA teen was allowed to take the test at home.

The school watched on live video to ensure there was no cheating - with one camera focused on the test itself and another one on the teen and her mother.

This time the teen scored 8.9 out of 10!

I love how simply (and quantitatively!) this story shows two key truths about PDA:

First, PDA is not a lack of skills or intelligence. It is a nervous system disability that prevents our children and teens from accessing the skills and intelligence they already have.

The experience of constantly perceiving threat drives PDA children and teens into their “survival brain” where executive functioning, problem solving, creativity, empathy, communication, and learning simply cannot be accessed.  

It doesn’t mean PDA brains don't have these capacities. It's just that - as is true for all of us - when in a state of panic and constantly perceiving danger and life threat, the brain and body focus completely on survival.

Second, the presence of another safe nervous system is one of the top three accommodations you can provide as a parent, teacher, or therapist. (The first two are Autonomy and Equality).  

In the case of the standardized test, the PDA teen explained that simply having her mother present and next to her during the test was a game changer. (This doesn’t have to be a parent, it can be a paraprofessional, therapist, or a trusted adult within the school system.)

It can be easy to forget how important it is to signal safety to our PDAers - through unspoken co-regulation, mindful presence, and focused one-on-one attention.

I like to think of this as a “mammal to mammal” practice – where I pay close attention to my physical presence, the tone of my voice, my facial expressions, and my movements. These are all ways of signaling subconsciously to my child's amygdala (the “threat detector”  in the brain), that he is *unconditionally* safe here with me and in this environment.

Doing this requires my undivided attention - no multitasking in these moments - even when it doesn’t look like my son “needs” it.

Yet even though I think about PDA everyday for work and as a mom, I often forget about the importance of “mammal to mammal” presence. There are two reasons. First, my son is now doing really well and second, when I'm just providing the co-regulation of my presence I sometimes feel like I'm not “doing” anything, and therefore not "being productive" (doing anything with a tangible outcome, whether it is a load of laundry or brainstorming content for Instagram).

But this week I was reminded again how important "just being" with my PDA son is. 

Most mornings, my au pair makes the children breakfast, delivers it to them, and packs their backpacks so I can meditate and get ready for my day. 

On Tuesday, I came down early after my meditation and saw that Cooper hadn’t eaten any of his breakfast. I sat down on the floor, without saying anything, and simply started watching what he was watching on the television.

He silently grabbed the remote and switched the content from football reels to “Try not to laugh” videos.

I couldn’t help but belly laugh watching people accidentally fall off docks into bodies of water and cats leaping through the air and landing on a people's surprised faces.

As soon as I got my body into this safe and social feeling, so did Cooper. He immediately picked up his sliced apples and started munching. He asked for a glass of water so he could take his anxiety medicine. The transition off the screen and out the door to school was smooth.  

And yet, I didn’t “do” anything but exist next to him as a safe mammal. A mama bear to her bear cub, laughing hysterically at human (and feline) foibles on YouTube. 

What can you do this week to signal safety with your PDA child or teen?

It might be setting aside an extra 10 minutes to provide them undivided attention.

It might be sitting next to them while they play on their ipad, with non-attachment for if they engage with you at all. 

Or, if your child or teen is deep in burnout and won’t let you near them, the “next right step” might be taking some time to yourself for a brisk walk, feeling the sun on your face. Or listening to some music that soothes you so that you don’t go into that familiar doom spiral.

You are regulating your nervous system so you can signal safety to theirs.

All of it is progress.

All of it is meaningful.

All of it matters.

And you are doing an amazing job.