I've been concerned for a while now about overprotective parenting. However, for a long time, I saw it primarily through the lens of social skills (or the lack thereof). More recently, I've been reflecting on how deeply it connects to our physiology-first commitment to students and parents. In conversations with a team member who is a psychopedagogue and psychomotricist, I learned about a student whose poor handwriting skills stemmed from a lack of core strength. I've also seen more and more students whose parents are so apprehensive that they prevent them from engaging in natural childhood behaviors, like swinging high on the swings or doing tricks on the monkey bars. They don't realize that humans are antifragile and that children's strength and physical development literally depend on letting them explore the world with their hands and feet, occasionally get hurt, and learn to measure risk. I'm excited about creating a space at YSchool where children are encouraged to move, explore, and discover all that they're capable of.

I've been really focusing on nasal breathing for the past couple of weeks. What I've loved most is feeling fully present and connected to my body as I feel my breath moving through it. Whether I'm out for a walk with my baby and toddler, working at my desk, or actually working out, I feel much more in tune with my senses and my body's movements, which brings me to the present moment. Essentially as I've become more aware of my breathing, I've also been able to focus more intently on what I'm doing and the people I'm with.

So I’ve been quiet 🤫 - very quiet on here recently. There’s been a lot going on behind the scenes. Big lightbulb moments about who I support and why… including my own daughter. Watching her struggle on her harder days has been heartbreaking 💔 I wanted to help, to support her, to hold her hand but I’ve realised that what I thought was help often felt like pressure to her. The result? She shut down even more, hid in her room 24/7, and tried to control the few things she could, because she felt so out of control everywhere else. And then it really landed. When stress is sustained, a young person’s nervous system which is still developing, can struggle to regulate itself. The body adapts by staying in a constant stress response. Over time, this affects sleep, appetite, energy, motivation, and emotional regulation. It can show up as anxiety, emotional outbursts, shutdown, withdrawal, disordered eating, controlling behaviours, or self-neglect. These are not signs that something is “wrong” with our girls. They are signs that the body is trying to cope and protect itself. What we’re seeing now is nervous system exhaustion in teenagers, patterns that historically didn’t appear until much later in life. Add constant screen use, social media comparison, less movement, less time outdoors, and less play and laughter, and our girls are left depleted and dysregulated. Girls in particular are often discouraged, subtly or explicitly, from moving stress out of their bodies. Instead, it stays trapped in the system. Eventually, the body says: Enough. I’ve watched the joy, excitement, and confidence drain from my daughter right in front of me and for a long time, I didn’t know how to reach her. Now I understand this: Many of the struggles we’re seeing in girls today aren’t signs of failure or weakness. They’re signs of overwhelmed nervous systems under chronic stress. Her behaviours weren’t problems to fix. They were messages from her body asking for support. This is the foundation of my work.