Natalie Froud looks at the idea that our PDA children’s responses aren’t irrational, but rooted in biology.
If you’re familiar with Pathological Demand Avoidance (or as some of us prefer to call it, Pervasive Drive for Autonomy), you’ll know that even tiny demands can trigger huge emotional reactions. Polyvagal Theory was developed by Dr Stephen Porges, and can help us understand PDA neurologically. The theory describes how our nervous system responds to safety, danger, and life’s many surprises. At its heart is the vagus nerve, a kind of biological communication superhighway which connects the brain to the heart, lungs, and digestive system. According to Porges, it plays a vital role in regulating our stress response, helping us to switch between states of calm and alertness. He described three such states: Social Engagement, Fight or Flight, and Freeze or Shutdown. These aren’t chosen behaviours. Our bodies often react to threat before we even realise it, and it’s not something we can think about or talk ourselves out of in the moment. The response is automatic: protective first, logical later.
Porges postulates something called neuroception, which describes the way our autonomic nervous system constantly and subconsciously scans our surroundings for signs of safety or threat. It’s happening right now, while you’re reading this. Unless something startling has just happened in your environment, your nervous system has done its checks and decided there’s no need to raise the alarm.
Now imagine the sound of a fire alarm going off. Or a car horn blaring. Or a cyclist suddenly zooming past you on the pavement. In those moments, your nervous system kicks in fast. Your heart might race, you might flinch or take a sharp breath, your muscles might become tense. That’s your body responding exactly as it should to a perceived threat, keeping you ready to act if you need to. You didn’t choose to react that way. Your nervous system took over before your conscious mind even had a chance to catch up. Now imagine experiencing the same stress response, not in response to a fire alarm, but to someone asking you to put your coat on. Or telling you it’s time to brush your teeth. Or even suggesting what you might like for lunch. This is what we mean when we talk about faulty neuroception, when the brain’s internal threat detector starts misfiring, treating ordinary, everyday situations as dangerous. For a child with PDA, this is often what’s happening. Their nervous system doesn’t register that they’re being offered a simple choice or request, it registers a threat. And just like the fire alarm, their body floods with adrenaline. They might feel like they need to run, or shout, or cry. They’re not choosing to react this way. Their whole system is responding as if their safety is at risk.
This is one of the hardest things for others to grasp—that the child who appears oppositional or manipulative is actually experiencing a full-body, involuntary response to a perceived threat. And because their threat detector is faulty, the threat might be just a maths worksheet, or a change in routine, or being told what to do. Understanding this changes everything. It moves us out of the mindset of control and correction, and into a place of compassion and co-regulation. It helps us see that we’re not dealing with a child who won’t do something, but a child who can’t… not until they feel safe again. You might see sudden resistance to simple requests, flighty or argumentative behaviour that seems excessive, or going numb or shutting down after emotional escalation. These aren’t tantrums—they’re nervous system shifts.
When I forget myself (which happens more than I would like) and directly ask my younger PDA child to do something, you can physically see this misfire taking place. Yesterday I was putting the baby down for his nap and I really needed the boys to go and play in their bedroom so that there was marginally less screaming in the room, and I made the mistake. They were walking out of the room, heading towards their bedroom and I said go to your bedroom to play. That was it. His body rocked back and forth like a tree in the wind, rooted firmly to the spot, surprised by his own inability to move, fingers splayed, eyes wide, heart racing… and a small voice said I can’t. That simple instruction—even though he was already on his way to complying with it—disabled him, because instructions are demands.
So, what counts as a demand? Anything, even a kind invitation or a self-chosen activity, can feel like a demand to a PDA child, and understanding this is key to supporting them compassionately. Demands can include: direct instructions (put your shoes on); Indirect suggestions (Shall we go now?); expectations, even implied (it’s nearly lunchtime); routines and timetables (having to follow a school schedule); praise or positive attention (can feel like pressure to keep performing); choices (juice or water?—both feel like pressure); self-imposed goals (I want to finish this Lego tower); internal expectations (wanting to be good, brave, or polite); social niceties (saying thank you, eye contact); transitional cues (time to go, or even just packing a bag); sensory demands (uncomfortable clothes, noise, lighting); emotional demands (comforting someone else, showing emotion); being watched (can trigger performance anxiety); waiting or queuing (implied pressure to conform or hold it together); deadlines, even if playful (bet you can’t do it in 10 seconds!); or fun activities with a start or stop (let’s go to the park—still a demand).
Once we know what’s going on, we can start offering the kind of support that actually works:
Focus less on compliance, more on connection. When a child is in a fight, flight, or freeze response, the child’s nervous system has flagged a threat, and their body is responding accordingly. The brain is not wired for logic or learning in that moment. Trying to talk a child through extreme dysregulation or push for compliance during this time isn’t just ineffective. In fact it can increase their distress. Your job isn’t to convince them out of the state they’re in. Your job is to help them feel safe enough that their nervous system no longer detects danger. Only when their sense of safety is restored does the prefrontal cortex come back online, making connection, reflection, and growth possible.
Notice the triggers. Keep a gentle eye on what ramps up your child’s system. Transitions? Unpredictability? Certain sensory environments? Identifying and reducing these triggers creates the conditions for calm. And when a known trigger is unavoidable, such as a transition, we can offer co-regulation by supporting the nervous system before, during and after it. My eldest PDA child finds transitions (especially leaving the house) very difficult. One thing that helps him is eating crunchy snacks. This kind of oral sensory input provides deep proprioceptive feedback through the jaw, which can have an organising, grounding effect. It helps him stay regulated by giving his body something predictable, repetitive, and calming to focus on.
Regulate together. Co-regulation means using your own calm presence to help soothe your child’s nervous system. In moments of distress, your child’s nervous system is searching, often unconsciously, for signals of safety or threat in the people around them. Co-regulation starts with you. It means slowing your own breathing, grounding yourself, and calming your own nervous system so that you can offer a steady, non-threatening presence. You might take a few deep breaths, loosen your shoulders and soften your posture. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a short moment for yourself. Hiding in the bathroom for a few deep breaths isn’t failure, it’s strategy. Be intentional with your facial expressions: think calm eyes, a gentle mouth, and a non-judgemental gaze. Try to avoid staring head-on, which can feel intense and threatening. Sitting side-on, or lowering yourself to their level can help reduce perceived threat and communicate emotional safety. Familiar routines, quiet spaces and a soft, steady voice can all support co-regulation. But the foundation is your internal state. You can’t regulate someone else if you aren’t regulated yourself. It’s not about being perfect, it’s about bringing enough calm to help their nervous system begin to settle in your presence.
Respect autonomy. Don’t try to sneak in demands. PDA children are brilliant lie detectors. It can be tempting to reword a demand to make it sound gentler, but PDA children are exquisitely tuned in to the intent, not just the words themselves. They will often sense when something is really a hidden instruction, even if it’s wrapped in politeness or playfulness. When they feel manipulated or coerced, even subtly, it can spark an instant fight-or-flight response. Instead of trying to slip a demand past them, focus on building trust through authenticity. Be honest about what’s needed and frame it with genuine collaboration. Try offering choices that allow your child to feel in control, like do you want to brush teeth before or after we read the story? or use shared problem-solving to explore how a need can be met together.
Humour can be a brilliant diffuser. A silly voice, a funny challenge, or playing the wrong way on purpose can transform a potential flashpoint into a moment of connection. When laughter is present, the nervous system feels safer, and that’s when flexibility becomes possible. The most important thing to remember is that you’re on the same team. Try not to approach things as a power struggle, but as a relationship to be nurtured. Let them lead when they can. Even small moments of autonomy help their nervous systems stay regulated and build trust that you’re a safe person to navigate the world with.
Author: Natalie Froud
Natalie Froud
Natalie Froud is a neurodivergent educator of 15 years, PDA specialist, mother of multiple neurodivergent children and founder of SENDinMama.
Website: sendinmama.com
Instagram: @sendinmama
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