A Safe Harbor in a Storm
What Restraint Collapse Teaches Us About Love, Growth, and Showing Up
Earlier this week, I posted a selfie to Instagram Stories in which I was holding a glass of wine and wearing a comically horrified expression. The caption read, “Ho boy, I do not know (yet) what happened at school today, but we are living that ‘kids fall apart because they feel safe with you’ thing this evening!”
Judging by the number of DMs I got, many of you are familiar with restraint collapse: that magical moment when kids save all their big feelings for you.
Coined in 2017 by psychotherapist Andrea Loewen Nair, “restraint collapse” describes the emotional unraveling that often happens when children get home after a day of holding it together at school. It’s most common in kids under 12, but older children - and yes, even adults - aren’t immune.
My husband and I choose to take it as a compliment. Our kids know they’re loved no matter what. They work hard to be kind, respectful, and well-behaved both out in the world and at home but, where they feel safest, they know our dedication to them isn’t threatened by their occasional inability to hold it together.
It can be intense. It can also be hilarious. I often find myself caught between deep empathy for my overwhelmed child and trying not to laugh at the absurd things flying out of their mouth.
Sometimes, once they’ve calmed down, they ask if we experience the same feelings. “Is it hard for you to be patient, Mama?” Or “Daddy, do you ever just want to yell at somebody?” Yes, we tell them. Grownups have trouble with all of that, too.
We’re all still learning, I tell the kids. Learning how to be good friends, good parents, good people. Sometimes we mess up, and that’s normal. As we grow, we get better at noticing when we’re not at our best. Sometimes we can pause and course-correct. Sometimes we can’t and we need to step away. And sometimes, we can’t do either—we just have to be honest and say, “I’m having a hard time right now. I’m trying. And I might not be the version of myself I want to be for a little while.”
When people care about you, they’ll understand. They’ll give you space. They’ll give you grace. And when you’re ready, they’ll be there.
The kids usually nod solemnly when I say that. I know it’s sinking in - not just because of their faces, but because I hear it echoing back. Just the other night, in the middle of a sibling scuffle, Claire turned to Robbie and said, “I’m sorry, Robbie! I’m still learning, but I’m only little.”
It was one of those moments that drove home the truth: modeling matters most—but naming things out loud helps them take root. For our kids, yes, but also for ourselves. As a way of remembering that we’re all still learning. We’re all still working on it.
And we’ll keep showing up for the people we love - through the collapse and when they’re ready to stand back up.