Beyond the Storm: Reducing Shame During and After a Child’s Meltdown

If you’ve ever found yourself in the middle of your child’s meltdown feeling helpless, angry, or even ashamed—please know, you’re not alone. These moments can stretch our patience, tug at our deepest insecurities, and leave us wondering if we’re doing any of this right.

My daughter began having meltdowns at just 18 months old. At the time, I didn’t yet know she was neurodivergent. What I did know was that her emotional episodes could last up to an hour—and they were intense. There were no quick fixes. No gentle redirection. No magical calm-down tools. Just a little body and nervous system completely overwhelmed—and a parent doing her best to stay present.

Except I couldn’t always stay present.

There were times I would hold her bedroom door closed just to keep her safe—or hide in the bathroom, crying into my hands, feeling like I couldn’t take another second. I felt completely overwhelmed and powerless. I felt alone. It's been over a decade now, but I can remember the flood of emotions like it was yesterday.

What I’ve learned is this: meltdowns are not about manipulation. The word “tantrum”—as it's often used—carries a judgmental tone that assumes intent, control, or strategy. But what many neurodivergent children experience is not a choice—it’s a nervous system in crisis.

🌪️ Meltdown ≠ Tantrum

Let’s pause to make a clear and important distinction.

A meltdown is a full-body, full-brain dysregulation event. It’s when a child’s nervous system is overwhelmed and unable to return to calm without safety and co-regulation.

A tantrum, on the other hand, may involve a child stomping their feet or yelling when something doesn’t go their way—but there's often still some level of control or awareness.

Kristy Forbes explains, when we conflate the two, we risk misunderstanding what our children truly need. Meltdowns are not “bad behaviour.” They are signals of emotional or sensory overload—a desperate attempt to discharge something that feels unbearable.In these moments, the nervous system isn't just reacting—it’s begging for a reset. The child doesn’t need correction; they need help coming back into regulation.

🧠 What’s Happening Inside the Brain

Dr. Daniel Siegel describes this process as “flipping the lid.” When a child experiences a meltdown, the logical, reasoning part of the brain (the prefrontal cortex) goes offline. The more primitive parts of the brain—the limbic system and brainstem—take over. This is the survival brain: fight, flight, freeze, or fawn.

So what looks like screaming, throwing things, or collapsing is not a child being difficult. It’s their body saying, I can’t cope.

Trying to reason with them—“Calm down,” “Use your words,” “This isn’t a big deal”—doesn’t work because they literally can’t process it. Our role isn’t to talk them out of it. It’s to be a calm anchor until the wave passes.

🧍‍♀️ Your Calm Is the Anchor—But You Deserve Support Too

Meltdowns don’t just dysregulate our kids—they often dysregulate us, too. They bring up exhaustion, fear, rage, and shame. I know, because I’ve felt every one of those.

When you're holding a door closed to keep your child safe or sobbing in the bathroom because you don’t know what else to do, it’s easy to believe that you’re failing. But what I want to tell you is this: you are not failing—you’re just at capacity. And you are doing the best you can with what you have.

That’s why we must start with checking in with ourselves:

• How am I feeling right now?

• Can I stay present in this moment?

• What helps me get grounded—even just a little?

Your nervous system matters too. And your ability to co-regulate with your child depends on how much you can first regulate yourself.

🧱 Shame Makes It Harder to Heal

One of the greatest lessons I’ve learned is that shame doesn’t help regulation—it makes it worse. When children are shamed during or after a meltdown, they internalize the belief that they are bad, too much, or unlovable. And for neurodivergent children who are already trying to navigate a world that often misunderstands them, that message is devastating.

Phrases like:

• “You’re embarrassing me.”

• “What’s wrong with you?”

• “You always do this.”

...send the message: You’re only acceptable when you’re calm.

Instead, children need to hear:

• “That was hard. You were overwhelmed, and now you’re safe.”

• “I stayed. I still love you.”

• “Even when your feelings are big, you’re not alone.”

🔁 After the Storm: Repair Over Reprimand

Once your child is calm, that’s your chance to begin gentle repair—not with punishment or shame, but with connection and reflection.

You might say:

• “Your body was having a really hard time. Do you want to draw what it felt like?”

• “Next time, what might help you feel safe sooner?”

• “You’re not in trouble. I want to understand you better.”

This is also where you can reflect on patterns. Was the meltdown after school? Was there a loud sound? A difficult transition? Building this awareness helps you support your child proactively in the future.

❤️ You Are Not Alone

Meltdowns are overwhelming—for your child and for you. They’re exhausting, messy, and isolating. But they are also part of the process of helping a child learn to regulate in a world that often overwhelms them.

I don’t write this as someone who has it all figured out. I write it as someone who has cried on the bathroom floor, who has whispered “I can’t do this” more than once—and who still comes back, because that’s what love does.

If no one’s told you lately:

• You’re not broken.

• You’re not weak.

• You’re doing something incredibly hard—and incredibly important.

When we reduce shame, regulate ourselves, and meet our children with compassion instead of correction, we give them what they truly need: a safe place to land. A relationship strong enough to hold the big feelings. A love that stays—even through the storm.

“You are still safe. You are still loved. You are never too much.”

And you, parent—you’re not alone either.