Sarah Tacy: How Nervous System Regulation Can Change the Way You Parent
I first met Sarah Tacy through a group nervous system regulation session. She led an exercise that invited us to slowly notice our surroundings. The next day, while driving a route I’d taken hundreds of times, I noticed details (and a whole neighborhood) I’d never seen before. That experience was a lesson in how slowing down can change not just how we feel, but how we experience the world around us.
As parents, we often assume we need more time, more patience, or better coping strategies. Sarah offers a different perspective: our nervous systems shape how we experience everyday life and parenting, and even small shifts can help us respond with more awareness and flexibility.

Throughout our conversation, Sarah returned to one idea she calls the Sacred Third — the often-overlooked possibility that appears once our nervous system is settled enough to see beyond black-and-white thinking. It’s a reminder that when we feel trapped between two extremes, there is often another possibility waiting for us once we’re regulated enough to see it.
Parenting Through the Lens of the Nervous System
Amity: One of the things I hope parents take away from this conversation is simply recognizing when they might need nervous system support. Can we begin with some of the early signs that tell you you’re becoming dysregulated?
Sarah: For me, it’s usually all-or-nothing thinking. Everything suddenly feels urgent, and I either feel like I have to do everything right now or I don’t know where to begin. I notice tightness in my body, my heart rate goes up, and I become much more reactive.
I also notice that when I’m convinced someone else is the problem, it’s usually a sign my nervous system is asking for attention.
Amity: That reminds me of something our mutual friend Kate Northrup said about becoming a “tallier.” Mentally keeping score was something I did as a new mother: I’ve been up all night. I’ve changed this many diapers. I had to fold that pile of laundry. It’s almost like you’re building a case.
Sarah: Exactly. When we’re well resourced, we usually aren’t keeping score.
Tallying often shows up when we’re under-resourced and trying to recruit support. It’s a protective response that’s saying, “Look how much I’m carrying. I need help.” Rather than judging ourselves for those thoughts, we can become curious about what they’re telling us.
I also think it’s important to acknowledge the environment we’re parenting in. For most of human history, children were raised in community. There were grandparents, cousins, neighbors, aunties, and uncles sharing the work of caring for children.
Today many parents are awake all night with a baby, caring for that child all day, managing a household, often working, and somehow expected to hold everything together without much support.
That’s why I think it’s important to say this: you’re not wrong for being dysregulated, and you’re not wrong for tallying. Many of us are living in systems that simply aren’t designed to support caregivers. It makes sense that our nervous systems are carrying so much.
I also think we have to let go of perfectionism. Sometimes people learn these tools and think, Now I should never lose my patience with my kids again. But that’s not the goal. The goal is becoming more aware, recovering more quickly, and repairing when we need to.
Our children don’t need perfect parents. They need parents who are willing to come back, apologize, reconnect, and let them see what it looks like to be human.
Regulation isn’t about being calm all the time
Amity: One of the most helpful things I’ve heard you say is that being regulated doesn’t mean feeling calm all the time. Sometimes we hear “nervous system regulation” and picture a parent who never raises their voice. What does being regulated actually look like?
Sarah: First of all, calm can be wonderful. I don’t want to shame calm.
But calm isn’t always the same thing as regulation. Many people — especially women — learned as children that freezing or becoming very quiet was the safest response in difficult situations. From the outside that can look calm, but internally it’s a very different experience.
To me, regulation is really about having a range. There is healthy slow, healthy medium, and healthy fast.
I can be excited. I can be dancing with my kids. I can be passionately advocating for something I care about. I can even have intensity.
We’re meant to experience the full range of human emotion.
And there will absolutely be times when we’re dysregulated. I don’t want to create another standard where “regulated” is the only acceptable way to be.
The difference is that I still feel like I have choice. I know I could pause if I needed to. I don’t feel trapped in all-or-nothing thinking, and I don’t feel completely driven by my nervous system. That’s how I know I’m within my range of regulation.
What to Do When You Notice Signs of Dysregulation
Amity: Once you recognize the signs, what’s something you can actually do in the moment? Let’s say your child is starting a full meltdown. Where do you begin?
Sarah: The first thing I ask is whether everyone is safe. Once I know my child is safe, I turn my attention to my own nervous system.
One of my favorite practices is incredibly simple. I place both hands over my heart and gently press in until I notice my breath begin to change. I’ve used this when I feel angry, overwhelmed, sad, or even abandoned. There’s something about that physical connection that helps me come back to myself. I don’t rush it. I wait until I genuinely feel a shift.
Once I feel a little more settled, I might quietly repeat an affirmation. My daughters do this before bed if they’re feeling anxious. They’ll place their hands on their hearts and say, “I am safe. I am loved.”
The important thing is not to force an affirmation that doesn’t feel true. If I don’t feel calm yet, I’m not going to tell myself I’m calm. I might simply say, “I’m here.” It has to feel believable to your nervous system.
Amity: I love the truth in that. Otherwise, it’s like when you’re spinning out and someone tells you to calm down. You need them to have your back and do something helpful.
Sarah: Exactly. We’re not trying to override our emotions. We’re trying to support ourselves while we’re experiencing them.
Sometimes that means imagining something that naturally brings warmth or affection. One practice I learned is picturing a puppy after my breathing settles. It sounds almost silly, but I can physically feel my body soften.
Another favorite tool is humming. If one of my daughters is headed toward a bedtime meltdown, I’ll hum quietly to myself. Not loudly enough to interrupt her, just enough that I can feel the vibration in my own body. One day she stopped crying long enough to tell me, “I like when you do that, Mom. It’s very calming.”
What I love about humming is that it doesn’t rely on willpower. Sometimes we try to slow our breathing because we think we should, but we’re still forcing it. Humming gives something back to me. It shifts me from simply enduring the moment to feeling genuinely resourced.
Escaping All-or-Nothing Thinking
Sarah: While I was preparing a course called Opting Out of Urgency, I noticed something about myself.
It was a big launch, and suddenly I convinced myself everything had to happen at once. I piled on projects that would normally take months. At the same time, I had committed to supporting a friend at a retreat. Instead of being present, I kept thinking, What am I doing here? I have newsletters to write, podcasts to record…
That’s when I noticed the all-or-nothing thinking.
Amity: Been there! You feel like, “I either need to check myself into a hotel and work nonstop for five days or I guess none of this ever gets done.”
Sarah: Right. In nervous system terms, urgency is a state of high activation. Everything feels equally urgent, and it becomes difficult to imagine another option.
That’s when I ask myself about what I call the Sacred Third. It’s my reminder that when I’m stuck between two extremes, there’s almost always another possibility I can’t see yet.
Instead of asking, Should I stay at the retreat or abandon it and go work? I ask, What’s another possibility that I can’t see yet?
For me, that looked like spending part of the retreat writing in a quiet yurt, then joining everyone for breathwork and the activities that genuinely restored me. My to-do list never changed. What changed was my state.
When I became more regulated, I actually wanted to write the newsletters. I had the creative energy to do the work.
One night I woke up around two in the morning and realized something else. My nervous system didn’t actually want to calm down. It wanted to move. As I started writing, I kept coming back to three words: urgency, agency, and emergency. That’s when something clicked.
Amity: Now you have me recognizing how much time I spend in urgency. Whether it’s work-related or if I decided dinner is at 6:15 and everything runs late… I feel like I’ve lost control and every task is equally urgent.
Sarah: Right. Maybe dinner is going to be late regardless. The question becomes, What can I do to care for myself within that reality?
The real stressor isn’t having commitments. It’s feeling like we have no choice within them.
That’s what I mean by agency. Instead of getting trapped in I’m either a responsible person or I’m completely failing, we start looking for another possibility.
That’s the Sacred Third. Not choosing between two extremes, but looking for the option stress makes it hard to see. It’s usually nuanced, and we often can’t see it while we’re stressed. In those moments, the black-and-white thinking feels absolutely true.
I’ve found that even five minutes of tending to your body — taking a walk, breathing, or moving — is often enough to reveal the next step.
Different Emotions Need Different Support
Amity: There are some nervous system tools (like vagus nerve devices) out now. What are your thoughts on those?
Sarah: I know they help some people. But I think it’s even more empowering to understand which tools work for your nervous system in different situations.
One of the biggest shifts people can make is realizing there isn’t one perfect regulation tool. Different emotions often need different responses.
For example, if a child is feeling anxious, it may help to move that energy first. They might jump up and down, shake their body, hum, or make a big “ahhh” sound before placing their hands on their heart. Sadness often asks for something different.
The goal isn’t to override what we’re feeling. It’s to support ourselves while we’re experiencing it.
In my experience, anxiety often isn’t something that needs to be felt as much as it needs to be moved. Once people move some of that activation, they usually find much more clarity about what they need next. I’ve learned to recognize my own early warning signs. When everything suddenly feels like too much and I don’t know where to begin, that’s my cue that I need to step away.
Sometimes I’ll lie on the floor in a starfish position. Other times I’ll spend five or ten minutes outside pulling weeds before I come back to my work. The activity itself isn’t the point. The point is noticing what helps you return to yourself.
That’s what I want for people — not dependence on a particular device or technique, but confidence that they can recognize what’s happening and respond in a way that actually supports them.
Some people discover that upbeat music and dancing are exactly what they need when they feel anger building. I’ve had clients tell me they’ll put on music and really move their bodies before that frustration spills over onto their partner or children.
The more tools you practice, the more flexible your nervous system becomes. Then you’re not thinking, I only know how to regulate if I’m home with twenty minutes and a yoga mat.
You can meet yourself wherever you are.
How Caring for Yourself Support Your Family
Amity: Can you share your perspective on self-care?
Sarah: To me, self-care isn’t separate from caring for the people we love. My mentor, Tele Darden, talks about self-care as the basis of community care, and that idea has really stayed with me.
For example, if one of my daughters is having a hard time, I might quietly hum to myself while I’m with her. From the outside it may not look like I’m doing anything, but I’m tending to my own nervous system.
I’m not communicating, “Your emotions make me feel unsafe.” Instead, I’m showing them that I can stay grounded while they’re having a hard moment.
It’s never perfect. Sometimes I have to tag my husband in or step away for a moment. Sometimes co-regulation is a pillow fight so my daughters can get a physical and playful outlet for the “fight impulse” with me instead of with each other. I see that as generative because it allows me to engage with those energies and give them somewhere to go.
But overall, as I care for myself, I find I’m less reactive to my children. I feel steadier. I’m better able to trust their process instead of feeling like I have to immediately fix what they’re experiencing.
Amity: I never thought of self-care as a pillow fight! But it makes sense to move through the fight energy. That’s such a different perspective because you’re not stepping away from your child to regulate. They probably get a much stronger example from you watching you regulate in real time.
Sarah: Exactly. Sometimes we think self-care has to be a massage, a weekend away, or an hour of uninterrupted time. Those things can absolutely be wonderful if they’re available.
But many parents don’t have that kind of time.
That’s why I come back to the smallest doable step. Sometimes self-care is one deep breath. Sometimes it’s humming. Sometimes it’s placing a hand on your heart.
Those small moments matter because they help us return to ourselves before we become overwhelmed.
Why Open Loops Can Be Draining
Amity: One topic I wanted to make sure we talked about is open loops. I think most of us have unfinished projects, unanswered emails, or things we’ve been meaning to get to for months. What effect do those open loops have on our nervous systems?
Sarah: Anytime we’re under chronic stress, our brains tend to solve problems using the same patterns that probably created the stress in the first place. Our perspective narrows.
Open loops add to that. Even when they’re not at the front of our minds, our nervous systems know they’re still there. They show up when we wake up at three in the morning remembering everything we haven’t done. They create this background hum of stress that’s always present, even if we aren’t consciously thinking about it.
I think back to early motherhood, when I was sleeping so little. During that season, even tiny unfinished tasks felt enormous because I simply didn’t have the capacity to complete them.
When we’re under chronic stress, our brains become much less creative. We lose access to possibility. Everything starts feeling equally urgent, and it’s harder to know where to begin. That’s why I come back to the smallest doable step.
Sometimes the nervous system doesn’t need you to finish the entire project. It just needs evidence that movement is happening. Maybe that’s answering one email. Maybe it’s putting one load of laundry away. Maybe it’s writing one paragraph.
Small, completed actions begin restoring a sense of agency.
Start With the Capacity You Have
Amity: If there’s one thing you hope parents remember from this conversation, what would it be?
Sarah: I hope they can find a little more compassion for themselves.
Most of us are parenting in environments that ask an incredible amount of us, often without the support humans were designed to have. You’re not failing because your nervous system gets overwhelmed.
The goal isn’t to become perfectly calm or perfectly regulated.
It’s to become more aware, to recognize when your nervous system is asking for support, and to trust that there are small, accessible ways to respond.
Over time, those moments add up. We become more flexible. We recover more quickly. And we discover that we have more choice than we thought we did.
To learn more about Sarah Tacy’s work, you can visit her website or find her on Instagram.
