When Words Won’t Work: How Movement Helped My Son Regulate After a Hard Day

By Tamra Jones

Yesterday, my son trialed at a new school. We’ve been exploring whether a different environment might better support his nature—his sensitivities, his intelligence, and his need for a space where he feels safe enough to be himself.

But from the moment the day began, I had a feeling things might not go smoothly.

He’d woken up several times the night before—restless, anxious, even up at 3am. By morning, he was tired and irritable. His attitude was combative, defensive, and negative, and I knew from experience that this was anxiety in disguise. He wasn’t being “difficult”—he was overwhelmed. Still, he seemed set on a downward spiral, and all I could do was hope the environment would help him self-correct as the day unfolded.

It didn’t.

The School Day That Didn’t Go Well

At drop-off, he was quiet and withdrawn. I hoped this was just a case of nerves and that he’d warm up once he felt more familiar with his surroundings. But when my husband collected him later, the dam broke.

He was holding it together at first. They stopped for sweets and pumped the car tyres, but it didn’t take long for the emotions to flood in. He cried. He sobbed. “The kids were mean,” he said. “The teacher shouted at me and told me not to be rude.” “The work is too easy.” “There’s not enough time to eat.” “Only five-minute breaks.” “I’m bored.”

He was maxed out—mentally, emotionally, physically. And he shut down.

When Talking Isn’t the Way In

We had occupational therapy scheduled for the afternoon, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure whether it was even fair to ask him to go. He was shattered. But his OT knows him well—and instinctively, she made the right call.

Instead of pressing him to talk through his feelings, she worked with his body. No language. No pressure to articulate. Just movement.

They crashed things. They did physical, regulation-based activities—heavy work, deep pressure, proprioceptive input. And by the time I picked him up, I barely recognised the boy I had dropped off earlier. He was regulated. Smiling. Open. He was even able to hear me talk about giving the trial another chance tomorrow.

The Power of Non-Verbal Regulation

What this day reminded me—powerfully—is that sometimes, the best way to support our children emotionally is not through words, but through movement.

For neurodivergent kids especially—those who are anxious, easily overwhelmed, or who struggle with expressive language—talking isn’t always accessible in the heat of dysregulation. When a child is maxed out, their brain is in survival mode. Rational conversation? Emotional insight? That’s for later.

But their body still remembers what safety feels like.

Movement-based regulation strategies—things like crashing, pushing, pulling, jumping, squeezing—are powerful because they speak directly to the nervous system. They activate the proprioceptive system, helping the body understand where it is in space, and that helps the brain feel grounded and safe.

This is not a “distraction.” It’s therapy. It’s connection. It’s regulation in its most essential form.

What Parents Can Try at Home

If you have a child who struggles to talk about their feelings or tends to explode or shut down, here are a few things that might help in those moments:

• Crash zones or cushions: Let them jump into or crash onto a pile of pillows or a mattress.
• Heavy work: Carrying laundry baskets, pushing furniture, climbing jungle gyms.
• Resistance activities: Tug-of-war, play-dough, pulling stretchy bands.
• Tactile input: Squeezing a stress ball, wrapping up in a weighted blanket or towel.
• Rhythmic motion: Swinging, bouncing on a ball, or even slow walking.

The key is: don’t push them to talk if they’re not ready. Show them you’re with them, give them space to move through the emotion—literally—and come back into their body.

But What About Teens?

These strategies don’t stop working just because a child gets older.

In fact, movement-based regulation can be just as powerful—if not more so—for tweens and teens. The difference is in how we offer it.

The teen brain is still developing its capacity for emotional regulation. And for many neurodivergent teens, expressive language can still feel inaccessible in moments of stress. What changes is their need for autonomy, dignity, and age-appropriate outlets.

Here’s how to support older kids:

• Respect their independence
  Offer regulation tools without prescribing them:
  “Want to shoot hoops? Take a walk? Slam a ball around?”
  Let them lead.
• Offer grown-up versions of the same tools
  Think: boxing bags, weight training, resistance exercises, skateboarding, parkour, climbing, yoga.
• Normalize it
  Talk about movement as a form of emotional hygiene, not a behavioural correction. “Even I need to move when I’m overwhelmed. Want to come with me?”
• Co-regulate
  Do it with them. Go on the walk. Join in the workout. Don’t ask too many questions—just show up beside them.
• Be patient
  After movement, there may be a window of openness where conversation is possible. Or maybe not—and that’s okay too.

A Reminder for Us, Too

As parents, we often want to talk it out. We want explanations. We want to know what happened and why, so we can fix it. But sometimes, the fix starts with quiet, with presence, and with motion.

Yesterday reminded me that just because my son—or any child—can’t always express what they’re feeling in words doesn’t mean they aren’t feeling it deeply. And just because they seem explosive or difficult doesn’t mean they’re not doing their absolute best to hold it together.

So today, we try again.

Not with perfect words, but with open arms, a safe crash mat—or maybe a boxing bag—and the faith that regulation doesn’t always begin in the mind.

Sometimes, it begins in the body.