Learning to Feel: The Journey to Emotional Regulation as a Mom

For so long, I ran from the emotions I didn’t know how to hold. The sadness, the discomfort, the embarrassment. I thought if I let myself fully feel, I’d lose control—that I’d get stuck in the pain and never find my way out.

So I did what I had learned.

I stuffed it down. I kept moving. I told myself I didn’t have time to fall apart.

But I never realized that by avoiding my emotions, I was already stuck.
Stuck in cycles of reactivity, exhaustion, and guilt.
Stuck in patterns I didn’t know how to change.

And one day, it hit me—was I ever actually taught how to feel?

I think back to childhood. Was I ever truly allowed to sit with my emotions? To be messy, to cry, to struggle—without someone rushing in to fix it, distract me, or tell me to be strong?

I don’t ask this to blame anyone.
I ask because now, here I am—a mother—staring into the tear-filled eyes of my child, trying to hold space for something I never fully learned to hold for myself.

Motherhood is an emotional storm.
The tantrums, the noise, the mess, the constant overstimulation.
The moments that push every nerve in my body to the edge.

And everywhere I turn, I hear the same advice:

Hold space for your kids. Let them feel. Stay calm. Be patient.

But how?

How do I teach my children to embrace their emotions when I’m still terrified of my own?
How do I give them permission to feel when I’ve spent my entire life running from mine?

Because when the house erupts into chaos—when my toddler is screaming, my other child spills milk all over the dog, and the overwhelm crashes over me like a tidal wave—my first instinct isn’t patience.

It’s control.

It’s shutting it down, regaining order, silencing the chaos—because the chaos outside mirrors the storm inside.

For so long, I thought my reactions meant I was failing. That I was just an impatient mom who needed to “try harder” to stay calm.

But the truth is, I wasn’t reacting this way because I was failing.

I was reacting this way because my nervous system was dysregulated—stuck in a constant state of survival, bracing for impact before I even had a chance to think.

No one ever told me that.

They told me to breathe. They told me to be more patient.

But they didn’t tell me how.

The Missing Piece: Regulating My Own Nervous System

For years, I thought if I just read enough parenting books, I’d learn how to be calmer. That if I could just try harder, I’d stop snapping, stop feeling so overwhelmed.

But nothing changed. Because no amount of parenting advice could override the fact that my body was living in fight-or-flight, reacting before my mind even had a chance to catch up.

I didn’t need more willpower.
I needed a way to bring myself back to safety.

When I found EFT tapping, everything shifted.

For the first time, I had a way to pause—to step out of reactivity and into regulation. To remind my body that in this moment, I am safe.

So now, when the storm hits—when the screaming, the mess, the tension builds—I do something different.

I place a hand on my collarbone. I tap gently.
And I whisper to myself, I am safe. I am safe. I am safe.

I breathe.

And from that place, I choose how to respond.

Maybe I turn on music to shift the energy in the room.
Maybe I clean up the mess with a deep breath instead of a sigh of frustration.
Maybe I let the moment be what it is, without judging myself for how I should be handling it.

But sometimes, even that pause feels far away.
Sometimes, the storm inside is too loud.

That’s when I return to a practice I call The Emotional Depth Ladder.

The Emotional Depth Ladder

A deeper way to feel what’s here without getting lost in it

There are moments when I don’t need a mantra or a mindset shift.
I just need a way to feel what’s real.

This isn’t a tool for fixing or analyzing.
It’s a way to come back to yourself, gently—especially when the feeling is big, and your first instinct is to run.

Here’s how I walk myself through it:

1. Notice the feeling
   “Something is here…”
   → Pause. Let yourself sense that something is stirring.

2. Name it gently
   “I think this might be sadness… or fear…”
   → No pressure to get it right. Just offer a soft guess. Try to stay with the emotion.

3. Find it in your body
   “Where do I feel this the most?”
   → Notice if there’s tightness, heaviness, fluttering, aching…

4. Welcome it
   “You’re allowed to be here.”
   → Instead of pushing it away, breathe into it. Offer permission to be with what is.

5. Explore the origin
   “When have I felt this before?”
   → See if any memories, images, or younger parts of you come up.

6. Let a younger part speak
   “What does the little me inside want to say?”
   → Give your inner child a voice. No judgment. No stories. Just allowing the feelings to come.

7. Allow movement or release
   → Cry. Tap. Write. Stretch. Shake. Hit a pillow. Tantrum.
   Let the feeling move through you in whatever way your body asks.

8. Ask what it needs
   “What would feel supportive right now?”
   → A blanket? Rest? A hug? Reassurance? Permission to stop?
   Honor the need, even if it’s small.

This isn’t a staircase to climb perfectly.
It’s a spiral inward.
An invitation to stay.

And every time I choose to stay, even just for a breath—I change the pattern.

EFT Tapping Practice for the Chaos of the Moment

If you find yourself in those moments—where the weight of everything feels like too much, where the noise, the mess, and the overwhelm crash over you—try this:

Pause. Even for just a few seconds. Let yourself breathe.

Choose a tapping point. (Collarbone, side of the hand, or under the eye are great places to start.)

Repeat a calming phrase as you tap. Maybe:

I am safe.
I can slow down.
I can handle this moment.

Or bring the Emotional Depth Ladder into your tapping:

“Something is here.” (tap)
“This feels like…” (tap)
“I notice it in my ___.” (tap)
“You’re allowed to be here.” (tap)
“When have I felt this before?” (tap)
“What does the little me want to say?” (tap)
“Let it move.” (tap)
“What do I need right now?” (tap)

Breathe again. Let yourself feel the shift.

This isn’t about doing it perfectly. It’s about not abandoning yourself when it’s hard.

This Work Starts With Us

Breaking these patterns isn’t about striving for perfect parenting.
It’s about learning to feel again—so we can show up in motherhood with more peace, more presence, and more compassion for ourselves.

Because we deserve the same love, patience, and space we try to give our children.

So the next time the chaos swirls around you and you feel yourself being pulled into frustration, into control, into reactivity—pause. Tap. Climb the ladder. Breathe.

And remind yourself:

I am safe. I am learning. I am healing.
And that changes everything.