When Love Feels Like Walking Through Minefields
- Yvette E. McDonald, LCSW-QS, CMNCS
- 14 hours ago
- 5 min read
Part 2 of the “Big-Feeling Kids, Big-Feeling Parents” Series
There’s a kind of parenting that no one tells you about — the kind where love is not the question, but safety often is.
Not physical safety…
but emotional safety.
Relational safety.
Nervous-system safety.
When you’re raising a child whose emotions can swell without warning, you learn to love them with a kind of hyper-attunement. You study their mood when they wake up. You track their tone, their silence, their body language.
You start reading the emotional atmosphere the way sailors read the ocean.
Not because you’re anxious.
But because you’ve lived through what happens when you miss the shift.
For many parents of emotionally intense kids, love has become a minefield — deeply tender, deeply fragile, and deeply confusing.
You love wholeheartedly.
But you also brace.
You care deeply.
But you also tiptoe.
You show up.
But you also hold your breath.
Not because you don’t trust your child…
but because you don’t trust the emotional terrain.
If that resonates, you’re not alone.
And you’re not a bad parent — you’re a parent navigating complexity with courage.
The “Minefield” Isn’t Your Child — It’s Their Fear
Here’s the truth that often goes unspoken:
The intensity you’re navigating is rarely about defiance, disrespect, or not caring.
It’s usually about fear.
Fear of:
being misunderstood
losing connection
not being enough
being too much
disappointing someone
abandonment
emotional overwhelm they can’t escape
Kids who feel deeply often fear deeply.
And when fear gets loud, it can look like:
rage
withdrawal
shutdown
explosive reactions
blaming
defensiveness
secrecy
or emotional whiplash
But beneath those reactions is a child who doesn’t yet know how to stay anchored inside their own storm.
Understanding that doesn’t excuse the behavior…
but it does soften how we interpret it.
Why the Parent Often Becomes the Target
This part is hard to talk about — but important.
When a child feels emotionally unsafe inside themselves, the safest person in the room often becomes the outlet.
You.
Not because you deserve it.
But because your presence is the only place they feel enough connection to unravel.
It’s backward and unfair.
But it’s also often a sign of trust — albeit a painful one.
And when that happens repeatedly, you begin to:
anticipate the next blow
avoid certain conversations
delay your own needs
swallow your truth
over-function to prevent a meltdown
blame yourself for their emotions
This is how the minefield forms.
Not overnight — slowly, quietly, intimately.
You didn’t cause it.
You’re just living inside it.
And naming that is the first step toward healing it.
Where Parents Often Break: The Emotional Whiplash
For many parents, the hardest part isn’t the explosions — it’s the contrast.
One moment: tenderness, laughter, connection.
The next: distance, coldness, anger, or withdrawal.
It’s the emotional equivalent of standing in warm sunlight and suddenly being dropped into cold water.
Your nervous system never adapts because the shifts keep coming.
And that unpredictability creates:
chronic bracing
confusion
resentment you don’t want to admit
hypervigilance
grief for the relationship you used to have
exhaustion that doesn’t touch your bones — it lives in them
And yet… you keep showing up.
Because that’s what parents of big-feeling kids do.
The Path Forward Isn’t Control — It’s Anchoring
Here’s the hopeful part.
Parents often try to “figure out” the right words, timing, phrasing, or tone to avoid emotional explosions. But emotional intensity isn’t predictable enough for strategy alone.
What does make a difference is anchoring yourself.
Your steadiness becomes the safety your child doesn’t yet know how to hold.
Not perfect steadiness — just enough to stay in your own lane.
Anchoring looks like:
slowing down before responding
recognizing when you’re bracing
noticing when your own fear of their reaction takes over
being mindful of when your nervous system leaves the middle lane
choosing boundaries that protect both of you
refusing to match their intensity
giving less emotional explanation and more emotional containment
You don’t need to fix the storm.
You just need to stay steady inside it.
That steadiness becomes the invitation for your child to eventually learn their own.
Reflection & Gentle Takeaways
1. Where do I feel the most tension in my relationship with my child right now?
Name it. It reduces the power of the unspoken.
2. What emotions do I tiptoe around — and what am I afraid will happen?
Fear often hides under the surface of silence.
3. Do I brace more for the explosions or the unpredictability?
Understanding your nervous system helps you regain your footing.
4. When is my child the most open or reachable?
Tiny windows matter more than big storms.
5. What is one boundary I can hold this week that supports both of us?
Small shifts build emotional stability.
A Small Practice for the Week Ahead
When you notice yourself bracing, pause and take one breath longer than you normally would.
Let your shoulders drop.
Feel your feet.
Let your voice soften.
You’re not modeling perfection — you’re modeling regulation.
Something to Notice in Your Child This Week
Watch what happens to your child’s emotional state when:
transitions are unpredictable
connection feels threatened
they feel misunderstood
they don’t know how to name what hurts
These are often the emotional “tripwires” — not the explosions themselves.
A Reassuring Thought to Hold Onto
You’re not walking through a minefield because your child is dangerous.
You’re walking through it because they’re scared —
and they don’t yet know how to be safe inside their own emotions.
Your steadiness matters.
Your boundaries matter.
Your presence matters.
And this story is still unfolding.
Ready for deeper support? Join the Parenting the Big-Feeling Child Group.
If this blog series resonated with you and you’re looking for practical tools, nervous-system strategies, and connection-based support, I invite you to join the waitlist for my 8-week parent program, Parenting the Big-Feeling Child.
It’s a guided, high-support group designed to help you understand your child’s emotional world, strengthen connection, and feel anchored in even the hardest moments.
Yvette is a psychotherapist, Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW), and Certified Mental Health and Nutrition Clinical Specialist (CMNCS) who blends psychology, nervous system science, and nutrition to help individuals and families understand their emotional patterns with clarity and compassion. Through her practice, Nourivida Wellness, she offers concierge mental health support for neurodiverse individuals, parents of emotionally intense children, and those navigating deep relational challenges. Yvette believes in empowering people to become students of themselves—anchored, informed, and supported. If you’re seeking guidance, curious about working together, or longing for a more grounded path forward, you can learn more at Nourivida Wellness.
