Why Typical Models Miss the Root

When therapy focuses only on behavior, it often overlooks what’s actually driving the struggle. This piece explores why repetition isn’t enough—and why real change begins with nervous system regulation, safety, and embodiment.

Parents are often told their child just needs more practice. More structure. More behavior tracking. More sitting still. More speech drills. More sensory bins. More core strength. More rewards.

More.

And yet—nothing changes.

Or something changes, but not in the way that matters. Not in a way that feels real. Maybe the behavior improves, but the spark is gone. Maybe speech emerges, but it’s scripted and disconnected. Maybe they sit better, but they don’t move with joy.

And somewhere deep inside, the parent knows: We’re not touching the root.

The root isn’t behavior. It’s regulation.

Most therapy models—whether speech, behavioral, or educational—are built around outcomes that can be seen, measured, and reported. But regulation doesn’t always look good on paper.

Sometimes regulation looks like:

• A child melting down—because they finally feel safe enough to feel

• A pause between words—because their nervous system is no longer rushing

• A movement away from you—because they’re learning to follow their own impulses

• A refusal to participate—because their system is reclaiming “no”

Most models see these things as problems to fix. I see them as signs of life.

When the nervous system is in survival, nothing else can integrate.

If a child’s nervous system is operating in fight, flight, or freeze, they will develop compensatory skills, not integrated function.

They may speak, but the words won’t feel connected. They may sit, but their posture will collapse the moment you stop cueing. They may complete a task, but only by suppressing sensation, emotion, and breath.

This is where I often meet families: After years of effort. After a long list of therapies. After so many checkboxes were marked—but something still doesn’t feel right.

That feeling is the body’s intelligence. It knows the difference between compensation and wholeness.

Core withdrawal is often mistaken for progress.

In many of the children I see, compliance is actually a variation of freeze.

They sit still, follow directions, and get through hours of therapy—but only by shutting down. Their system withdraws inward so they can survive the demand. And that state is misread as regulation.

But the longer a child stays in core withdrawal, the more disconnected they become—from their body, their voice, and their inner sense of self. And when nothing changes, the system’s response is to double down:

• Add more sessions

• Switch providers

• Try harder strategies

• Spend more money

But this only deepens the loop.

Because what’s missing isn’t effort. What’s missing is attunement to the nervous system state underneath.

(You can read more about this in my piece: When the Self Disappears: Core Withdrawal and the Nervous System →)

I don’t ask, “What do they need to do?”

I ask, “What’s in the way?”

Sometimes what’s in the way is a nervous system that’s never felt safe enough to emerge. Sometimes it’s retained reflexes, fascial bracing, trauma held in the diaphragm, or a collapsed core that hasn’t had support since birth.

These patterns aren’t behavioral. They’re biological.And they will not shift through repetition alone.

That’s why I work the way I do—not to shape children into compliance, but to help their systems remember how to come alive.

If you’ve ever felt like therapy wasn’t helping—but didn’t know why—you’re not wrong.

You’re not failing. You’re not missing something. You’re feeling the truth.

The root is deeper. And when we reach it, everything else begins to unfold—speech, movement, stability, trust—not through force, but through reconnection.