The Meltdown Isn’t the Problem (But Your Reaction Might Be)

I’ve said this to myself more times than I can count: This isn’t about me.
When a toddler’s losing it over a broken banana or a blue cup or a bee in the sky—this isn’t about me.
When their body is thrashing and their voice is loud and I’m suddenly ten years old again, feeling like I’m too much or not enough—this isn’t about me.
But my reaction?
That is about me.

The meltdown isn’t the problem.
The problem is what we make it mean.

And I get it.
Because you were probably raised to believe that big emotions = bad behavior.
Maybe you were punished for crying, told to calm down before you were ready, left alone with big feelings that felt like too much for anyone to hold.

So of course it feels activating when your toddler melts down.
Of course you want to fix it, silence it, stop it.
But toddlers don’t need fixing.
They need witnessing.

They need someone whose nervous system says:
You’re safe here.
Your feelings don’t scare me.
You’re allowed to be upset and still be deeply loved.

This is what co-regulation looks like.
It’s not “stay calm no matter what.”
It’s “I notice my own heat rising, and I choose not to pour it onto you.”
It’s “I’ve learned how to sit in discomfort so I don’t ask you to shrink yours.”
It’s not about perfection. It’s about presence.

In the ten years I’ve spent with toddlers, here’s what I know for sure:
They’re not trying to manipulate you.
They’re trying to metabolize life.

And they’ll learn how to do it
By watching how you do it.
How you speak to yourself when you’re overwhelmed.
How you slow down when everything feels like too much.
How you come back to love, again and again.

Here’s one practice I come back to when emotions are high:
Become the narrator.
Instead of reacting, narrate what’s happening with simple, calm language:
“Your body is showing me you’re mad.”
“You really didn’t want that to happen.”
“Your face is scrunched and your hands are tight. That tells me you’re feeling something big.”

It gives them words.
It gives you something to do.
And it keeps you connected, even when things feel chaotic.

And here’s one for you, Mama:
Say this in your head:
This is not an emergency.

Because it’s not.
It’s a child, expressing something real.
And you have what it takes to hold it.
You’re already doing the work. You’re already showing up.
And no meltdown is louder than the love you’re growing here.