How To Help Avoidant Kids Take on Challenges And Work Through Fears
Jacob (6) loves swimming and joins a swim team that he is really enjoying. Then he has a series of illnesses that keep him out of this activity for over a month, after which he starts refusing to go to practices. When his parents ask why, he says he doesn't like swimming anymore—that it is "stupid”—which is perplexing and worrying to them. They know how fortifying this activity is for Jacob and that giving it up would be a real loss.
Accordingly, they respond: "But you love swimming, and are great at it! Why would you stop going?" They also start cheerleading—encouraging him and offering rewards if he agrees to return. Jacob only digs in his heels further. He refutes all of their talking points and doubles down on his position that he is quitting swimming.
This is a very common response from kids when parents try to convince them to keep at something they are anxious about. While you intend/hope it will be motivating, it can backfire, especially for highly sensitive kids who are very tuned into the underlying motives of their parents. They are already coping with difficult feelings about the situation. When they sense that you are disappointed or unhappy with their non-participation—when they won't jump into the pool to join the class with the other kids, or when they resist joining in the scrum at the birthday—it adds to their stress and makes it less likely they will feel confident to persevere through the challenge.
When we meet, Jacob's parents are feeling very distressed that their son is giving up something that was so important and healthy for him, and feel helpless to get him to change his mind. They are particularly concerned because this is a pattern for Jacob. He tends to give up easily and avoid things that are hard or that he isn't perfect at. His parents worry that he is missing out on important experiences that could potentially bring him a lot of pleasure.
We talk about how to approach this with him a little differently. It starts with not trying to convince Jacob to change his mind. Instead, they get curious and seek to understand.
At bedtime, when he is most open to talking and reflecting, his mom shares: "I have been thinking about your concern about returning to swimming. We were so busy trying to convince you to go back that we didn't really listen. We do want to hear about what you are thinking and feeling." She pauses. They are quiet for a minute. Then Jacob shares: "I don't want to be worse than all the other kids, which I will be because I missed so many practices."
Kids refusing to engage in potentially fortifying activities to avoid the discomfort of not feeling completely in control of the situation is a concern I hear about often in my work with families. It might be about fear of not performing perfectly, or as good as their peers, as it is for Jacob.
For other children, the avoidance might be of the unknown; a new event or experience, be it a classroom, a birthday party, or an extracurricular activity. They wonder: What will happen here? Who are these people? What can I expect from them? Will they like me? Will I be safe? Will I be good at whatever is expected of me here? They avoid these experiences to protect themselves from the natural anxiety we experience when we don’t feel in control of a situation.
I have seen this kind of avoidance with increasing frequency since the pandemic, especially for children who are now 3 to 6 years old and spent much of their earliest years in quarantine—no surprise. Their worlds have become very small because they only want to stay in their safe space. More than one family has described their child wanting to remain cozy in their sleep sacks all day (even those who have grown out of them!) and just hang out at home. They protest and put up a fight over going to most activities, even though once they have made the transition and gotten over the hump, they often LOVE the experience.
Their parents are in a quandary about how to respond. They know this avoidance is unhealthy and limits their child's experiences and engagement with the larger world. At the same time, it feels very uncomfortable and "wrong" to force them to do something they don't want to do. And how would they even do that, anyway?
How to help kids work through their discomfort
Having encountered this situation with so many families, I have had to figure out how to help parents help their kids see themselves as capable of overcoming their discomfort in order to grow; to be less avoidant, less resistant to transitions, and more willing to take risks.
The first step in accomplishing this goal is reminding yourself that what your child wants is not necessarily what they need. Few kids I know voluntarily put themselves in an uncomfortable situation. The default is safety. (This is true for many adults, too.) That is what they want. So if you make doing the activity a choice, and are relying on their agreeing to the activity, it is unlikely to happen. Avoidance wins.
While these kids want to stay in their comfort zones, what they need is exposure. This means parents creating opportunities for children to face and work through the discomfort, not enable the avoidance. And, it requires tolerating their discomfort. The only way kids learn to work through the fear is to live through it and see that they survived and can handle it. That's how resilience and grit are developed.
Executing this is so hard because parents are bombarded with messages about the importance of accepting their children for who they are, and not projecting their desires, their own hopes and dreams onto their kids.
But that is not what this is; these parents are not trying to make their kids over in their image. They are not pushing their kids to do things just to please mom and dad. These are situations in which the child has previously enjoyed an activity but something has intervened to cause them anxiety about it, so they shut down and reject it hook, line and sinker. Or, these are experiences that their parents are pretty certain their child would enjoy if they were able to override the fear, or the resistance to making the transition.
I could regale you with many stories of the positive outcomes for kids whose parents take the path of exposing the child to the uncomfortable experience. For example, placing a tantrumming child in the car to go for a family hike they were protesting, with said child having a blast once on the trail. Or, kids refusing to go to a birthday party because parents aren’t allowed to stay, for example, in the gym where the event is taking place. The parents who trust the process, and don't allow their child to avoid the event and stay home, even as they are peeling their child off of them as they try to exit, by and large return to smiling children who vehemently protest leaving at the end of the party.
Here are some examples of how this approach has helped children in my practice become less avoidant
Jacob And The Swim Class
Jacob's parents validate and empathize with his worry about having fallen behind; that it makes a lot of sense to them that he would feel that way.
They also decide that quitting the team is not a healthy choice for Jacob; that it is something he had loved, not something they had forced or had him do just because it made them happy. (As noted, this is a very important distinction to make.) They know they can't make him participate, but they decide that they can enforce his continuing to go the practices, to create the opportunity for him to work through his worry.
They explain to Jacob that being on the team is a commitment and it is their job as his mom and dad to be sure he follows through on his commitments. They are clear that the rest is up to him; that once they are at the pool, he has to decide whether he will participate or not. That is his choice.
He still fights them on going. They continue to acknowledge his discomfort and that they know this is hard for him, AND they stick with the plan. They don't get drawn into a negotiation with him. (Be mindful that once a child sees that you are seeking their buy-in—that following through on the plan is dependent on the their agreement, it creates an opening to talk you out of it, resulting in yet another power struggle and the child being in charge of making a decision that may not be in their best interest.)
The first practice his parents take him to after his absences, Jacob sits on the sidelines and refuses the teacher's bids for him to join. His mom refrains from cajoling him to participate and suggests that maybe, while is watching, he could do some detective work and see if the kids are really that much ahead of where he was before his hiatus. He likes this idea and they engage in it together. Jacob is the color commentator, narrating what he is observing, as Mom asks questions about the skills they are learning and the drills they are doing. (I believe Jacob was freed to engage in this way because his mom wasn't forcing anything. She wasn't pushing or encouraging him to jump in the pool and participate. She was accepting of his choice so he wasn't in defensive-mode and was more open.)
The second practice Jacob jumps right in and gets back to it. He is elated when the practice is over, clearly feeling very proud of himself for having overcome this fear and being back as part of the team.
Aiko And The Transition To Preschool
In the beginning of this school year, I walked into a 3 yo class at one of the preschools where I consult and noticed there was a child, Aiko, who was there with her caregiver. While the other kids were playing together in centers, Aiko was on her caregiver's lap reading a book for almost all of free-play. I asked the lead teacher about this, and she explained that Aiko had been having a hard transition to school so her parents had suggested that Aiko's caregiver, Jasmine, attend with her. This is a very warm and nurturing teacher who felt terrible for Aiko and hated to see her distressed, so she agreed to this plan.
I was concerned about the wisdom of this solution, as it is expected that kids, some more than others, will go through a period of discomfort as they adapt to going to school for the first time. Having a caregiver there would interfere in this process. It signaled to Aiko that she wasn't capable of learning to feel safe and comfortable in this lovely, warm, safe, fun preschool without a helper. Further, all Aiko’s energy and attention was on staying close to Jasmine, preventing her from connecting with peers and engaging in the group activities-- another obstacle to Aiko’s integration and adaptation into the class.
So I reached out to the parents and asked about any special needs Aiko might have that would require having a helper at school. Other than being slow-to-warm up to new experiences, there were no ostensible reasons why Aiko couldn't learn to feel comfortable at school, except that no one seemed to believe she could adapt without the comfort and support of Jasmine.
So I suggested a change of course: over the coming week we would have Jasmine leave the classroom for increasingly longer periods to give Aiko a chance to see that she could feel safe and comfortable at school without a 1:1 caregiver. And that we would increase Jasmine's time outside the class each week until Aiko was attending on her own.
While Aiko's parents were very worried about this change of course, they agreed it was worth a try. They had been concerned about how fearful and cautious Aiko was, which is why they had waited until she was three to send her to school or any kind of group care. Further, Jasmine was supposed to be taking care of their new baby. But because now she has to go to preschool three mornings a week with Aiko, Mom has to go through a lot of hoops to change her work schedule so she can care for the baby in Jasmine's absence.
On day one, we have Jasmine take a break each hour Aiko is at school. The first is five minutes, the next ten, then fifteen. When I signal that it is time for Jasmine to take a break, she gets down on Aiko's level and asks her if she can go to the potty. (It turns out that to date, Jasmine had NEVER left the classroom for fear of distressing Aiko.) Aiko pleads for Jasmine not to leave. I interject: "Jasmine, it's important that you have a chance to go to the bathroom. Aiko isn’t used to being here without you but she will be okay. This is a safe, great place." Aiko continues to cling to Jasmine, crying and begging her not to go. I gently move Aiko away from Jasmine and signal for Jasmine to leave. Aiko runs to the door and cries, repeating Jasmine's name over and over. The teacher, who had been leading a circle time, leaves the group to comfort Aiko.
Now I know this is going to sound antithetical to being sensitive and responsive, and not something you'll read about on Instagram, but I guide the teacher NOT to do what her instinct dictates—to swoop in and sit Aiko on her lap to comfort her until Jasmine returns. My concern is that this would signal to Aiko that a brief separation from Jasmine is too much for her to handle, when the goal is to provide Aiko an opportunity to experience that she can, indeed, manage it—to slowly build her resilience. Instead, I recommend that the teacher tell Aiko that she knows it's hard for her when Jasmine leaves—so Aiko knows she is seen and understood—and that they would love her to join the group when she's ready. Then to give Aiko space and continue with the circle time. Further, I suggest the teacher read the book she is sharing with a lot of animation and participation by the kids—hoping this might be more likely to attract Aiko's attention. Skeptically, the teacher returns to the group.
Aiko stays at the door. But without anyone "rescuing" her, which would have focused all her attention on being comforted by a caregiver, every few seconds her sobs abate and she starts looking over at the group that is engaged in a silly discussion about the book they are reading. Even in this first separation from Jasmine for five minutes, the sobs become fewer and further between and her attention to the group increases.
We continue this plan and each day of the week increase the periods of separation. Jasmine also stops asking Aiko for permission to leave the room, and instead explains clearly and calmly: "Aiko, I need to go to the potty. I will be back in a little bit. I'll see you soon." Previously, Jasmine would ask for permission and then profusely apologize for taking a break, as if she was doing something wrong, which reinforced Aiko’s fear. Conversely, communicating in this more matter-of-fact way conveys to Aiko that Jasmine trusts that she can handle it, and that Jasmine is not doing something harmful by leaving the classroom periodically.
By the third week, Jasmine stops coming altogether. Within a week, Aiko stops crying at drop-off. Within a month, she had become a joyful, full participant in school. Her teacher and parents were ecstatic.’they were so worried this approach would harm Aiko. Now they are thrilled and relieved to see how capable and resilient Aiko actually is. This mindshift has led to Aiko’s parents taking this approach in many other situations with a lot of success.
I recognize that these adaptations don't always happen so quickly. But it doesn't mean taking this approach is not effective. For some kids the process needs to be more incremental and will take longer. But enabling avoidance is what's harmful to kids as they miss out on so many pleasurable and fortifying experiences, and come to see themselves as unable to handle and work through the discomforts we all face as we navigate this world.
Here are some tips for specific strategies that can be very helpful in supporting children through these challenging situations:
Ask your child what would help them feel more comfortable engaging in the activity. A child whose parents I worked with was refusing to go to any performances, even of Daniel Tiger whom he loved. As they talked about it, the child explained that he was afraid of what would be behind the curtain when the show started. So now, when they go to any kind of performance, in advance, they seek out someone who can describe to their child exactly what is going to happen when the curtain rises, so he knows what to expect. This has solved the problem.
Talk to your child about their “worry” versus their “thinking” brain. Explain that there are different parts of our brains. We all have a “worry” brain that thinks about things that could go wrong or that might be scary. We also have a “thinking” part of our brain that knows what's real and what's not and lets our worry brains know that we can handle and master those fears.
Guiding children to look at their fears through this lens of the worry versus thinking brain makes it feel less personal, and like something they can control. It opens children up to look more objectively at the situation. This enables them to make sense of and feel more in control of their complex feelings—they become more manageable.
This is essentially what Jacob's mom helped him do at that first swim practice after his hiatus. It enabled him to test out how valid his fears were.
Recall times when your child was anxious about a situation that they muscled through successfully. For example, starting a new school, moving to a new home, or joining a group activity. You remind your child that they have been around this block before. Recount the story of how fearful your child was in the beginning and how they were able to move beyond those fears. Emphasize the result—that your child now loves that activity/experience that they may have missed out on if they hadn’t relied on their thinking brain to help them work through the fear.
It can also be helpful for you to share a time when you were anxious about trying something new and how persevering through it led to a positive outcome. Children love to hear your stories.
Here are some related resources to check out:
5 Strategies for helping kids try new things