I Tried to ‘Fix’ My Son and Ended Learning Something About Myself

“I have good news! No big outbursts today or crying on the floor; he just needed some extra support during our transition times!”

The sunny, early afternoon light streamed through Ms. Barb’s preschool classroom window as she delivered what was meant to be encouraging news. But her description of my son’s day hurt. How was it that a “good day” for him was not having a full-blown tantrum in the middle of class?

As I drove him home, squinting against the bright sunshine, he napped quietly in the backseat. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, fighting back tears. I felt like I was messing everything up. Out of our four kids, his behavior felt uncontrollable, and I was constantly on the search for ways to “fix” him.

The late-night search that changed everything

Every night after tucking the kids in, I would end up in my usual spot on our couch, scrolling through parenting articles. My eyes would be heavy, but my mind would be racing. What could I be doing differently? That’s when I saw an article about highly sensitive children, and I stopped scrolling.

I sat up straighter as I read each line. These kids hate crowds. They can’t stand loud noises. They pick up on everything around them, are highly intelligent, and feel emotions like they’re turned up to full volume.

This explained why he would cover his ears and cry when things got too chaotic around him. No wonder he melted down at preschool, church, and birthday parties — it was because he was overstimulated. Everything I’d been beating myself up about now made perfect sense. But there was something else. This list wasn’t just describing my son, it was describing me too!

Finding myself in my child’s story

As I read more about highly sensitive people (HSP), memories from my own childhood came rushing back to mind. At 14, I remember sitting in my bedroom after school, overwhelmed by my friend’s breakup — feeling her pain as intensely as if it were my own. I called it “over-empathizing” back then, and it eventually led me to become a therapist. But until this moment, I never understood why I felt everything so much more deeply than others seemed to.

It also explained why I pick up on tiny details that others miss and why I get easily overwhelmed. I realized in this moment that all this time, I had been trying to fix my son when, really, he was helping me understand a part of myself that had always felt like a flaw.

A new way of parenting and living

The discovery that night changed so much about how I live and parent now. I stopped seeing my son’s sensitivity as something that needed to change. Instead, I saw it as a trait that was just a part of him and that we could work with.

We now leave birthday parties a little early if he starts to get overwhelmed. We make sure that he has downtime after school to decompress. He and I talk about being HSP, which helps him process his big emotions.

And just like him, I started to figure out how to schedule my life in a way that works with, not against my sensitivity. I no longer feel guilty about putting on noise-canceling headphones when my kids get too loud and overstimulating.

Coming full circle

What started as a desperate attempt to fix my son’s tantrums turned into one of the best things that has happened in my life. It’s finally having the permission to be exactly who I am and allowing my son to be exactly who he is. Now, when parents come to my therapy practice describing their “difficult” or “overly emotional” child, I see the familiar signs. I share my story, watching relief wash over their faces as they begin to understand their child differently.

Last week, a mom teared up when I explained how her daughter’s sensitivity wasn’t a problem to fix but simply part of who she is. These sessions have shifted from problem-solving missions into conversations where parents discover new ways to work with their child’s sensitivity.

Because oftentimes, the very things that we are trying to change about our children are the things that can teach us the most about ourselves.