A mom in one of my groups said this the other night, after her daughter had a full-blown, 40-minute bedtime meltdown.

"I kept hearing your voice in my head: you are the anchor in the storm. But wow, the storm was STORMING. I couldn’t stop it. I just held on and rode it out.”

If you’re a parent, especially of a sensitive or intense kid, you know that feeling.

You’re doing your absolute best. You’re trying to stay calm. You’ve got all your tools and scripts in your back pocket. You’re validating. You’re breathing. You’re whispering things like, "I’m here, I love you, we’ll get through this."

And it’s still not working. The intensity keeps coming, maybe it’s even getting louder, lasting longer, and it’s just so freaking big.

At some point, you realize: Oh…I’m not here to stop the storm. My job is to ride it.

And that’s the shift. That’s the moment things start to change.

When the Tools Don’t “Work,” It Doesn’t Mean You’re Doing It Wrong

Let’s just say this out loud: If you’ve used every skill you know, and your child is still melting down, it does not mean you are failing and doing things wrong. It doesn’t mean your child is “too much” or that you need a new technique.

It just means both of your systems, yours and theirs, are overwhelmed.

Think about an actual thunderstorm. You don’t stop it by yelling at the clouds or trying to outsmart the wind. You shelter. You breathe. You ride it out until it passes.

Sometimes emotional storms work the same way.

Some pass quickly. Some suddenly shift course and clear. Some rumble for what feels like hours. Either way, your job isn’t necessarily to fix it in the moment. It’s to stay grounded enough that neither you or your child gets swept away.

What it looks like to ride the wave

Let me tell you what this actually looks like.

A mom I work with told me about a night when her daughter totally unraveled at bedtime. Screaming, thrashing, sobbing, and none of the usual tools were helping. Her partner had already tapped out. She felt her body getting tight, her thoughts racing.

But then she remembered something we’d talked about:

"I don’t have to stop this. I just have to be here with her while it passes."

So, she sat on the floor next to her daughter. She didn’t force conversation. She didn’t try to rush her through her daughter’s intense feelings. She just stayed nearby.

And eventually, the screams turned into sobs…then quiet…then a tiny voice:

"Will you do the search-and-find book with me?"

Co-regulation. Connection. Re-entry.

This did not happen because mom said the “perfect” thing. Or because she controlled the moment. It happened because she stayed in the boat with her daughter.

The nervous system truth bomb

Your child, in the middle of a meltdown, is not in a thinking state. Their brain isn’t ready for reasoning or problem-solving or logic. It’s in full-on survival mode.

And your nervous system feels that too.

So, your role in those moments isn’t to drag your kiddo out of the chaos. It’s to stay steady enough that, when they’re ready, they can come back and find you.

That’s why presence matters more than performance.

Riding the wave might look like:

• Saying less or nothing at all (really, less is more)
• Moving slower than you think you need to
• Putting your hand on your heart or pressing your feet into the floor
• Letting your body tell your child: “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your grounded energy becomes their lifeline. Even if they don’t show it right away.

What to say to yourself in the middle of a storm

Parents ask me this all the time: “What do I tell myself when I’m trying not to totally lose it?”

Here are a few go-to mantras I love:

• This will pass.
• I don’t have to fix this. I just need to stay with it.
• My calm is her anchor.
• I am the soft place to land.

And sometimes, just placing your hand on your chest and saying: “This is really hard. I can do hard things.”

That’s strength.

Bottom line

If you take one thing from this, let it be this:

Your child’s storm doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. It also doesn’t mean your child is too much.

The storm just…is. Kids sometimes storm!

And your power is not in controlling the storm. It’s in how you ride it.

If you want help learning how to stay anchored in the hard moments, how to steady your own system so you can be the parent you want to be even when it’s really really hard, that’s exactly what I help parents do.

You don’t have to brace yourself for every wave. You can learn how to ride them.