For years, I genuinely believed I just needed to hold the line. Every professional we saw told us some version of the same thing: “Don’t let her avoid.” “Avoidance makes anxiety worse.” “Exposure is the treatment.” So I pushed. Not because I was harsh. Because I loved my daughter and believed I was doing the right thing. But one day she couldn’t make herself go to class. So she hid in a school bathroom. Alone. Crying. For hours. She didn’t call me because she thought she already knew what my answer would be. That moment changed everything. Not because I stopped believing in courage. And not because I suddenly believed children should avoid everything that scares them. But because I realised I’d been asking the wrong question. I was asking, “How do I get her through the school gate?” Instead of, “What is her nervous system trying to tell me?” That shift changed everything. We stopped treating every difficult morning as a battle to win. We focused on rebuilding safety, tr...