When parenting advice doesn’t work: Understanding PDA in autistic children

“Have you tried praying more for your child?” 

“Here, have this Christian parenting book—it really helps with difficult children.” 

If you’re a parent of an autistic child in Christian circles, I can pretty much guarantee that these phrases already bring back memories of awkward and painful conversations. 

And if you’re one of the parents whose autistic child has a profile of Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA), then you’ve likely heard them a hundredfold—and may not even be attempting to access church anymore. 

For the rest of you reading, give me a moment. Let me reassure you: I am a parent who believes in boundaries and consequences for behaviour. All children need and benefit from them. But neurodivergence is not straightforward and requires nuance. What looks like simple disobedience to the outside observer is often far more complex. 

What is PDA? 

PDA is a form of autism. Autism is a lifelong neurological condition with varying degrees of severity and need for support. Individuals will have difficulty with social interaction and often display restrictive or repetitive patterns of behaviour. Co-occurring sensory sensitivity is also common. 

We’re still in the early days of understanding PDA, but in addition to the usual diagnostic hallmarks of autism, PDA involves an extreme, anxiety-driven need to control the environment. This anxiety is triggered by anything the body perceives as a demand—whether internal or external. 

Internal demands can include everyday necessities like getting up, getting dressed, brushing teeth, using the toilet, or recognising hunger and the need to eat. 

External demands might be a request to come eat breakfast, put on shoes, or complete a school task (if school is even tolerable). 

Any demand can lead to heightened anxiety and potential meltdowns.

But Wait a minute! That just sounds like a wilful and stubborn child who needs discipline, right? This is just ‘mental health’ gone mad!

I was inclined to think so too—until I had my own children and saw the extreme anxiety one of them displayed. That’s when I started learning about PDA. 

What does PDA look like? 

This isn’t just deliberate stubbornness. This is pathological. It’s an involuntary reflex, like a trauma response. Demands are received by the body as a maximum threat. There’s no internal filter to assess the severity—all demands feel overwhelming. 

Sometimes, even something they want to do feels like too much. A favourite activity becomes unbearable because of the internal “demand” to enjoy and participate. 

I’ve seen my child anticipate an event with excitement for weeks, only to completely crumble during it. Why? Because, alongside the usual autistic challenges, there’s this overriding, crippling sense that the long-anticipated event is too much to bear. And then, self-loathing and shame kick in.

your child is not irretrievably broken. They are overwhelmed, overstimulated, and stuck in a trauma response

PDA reactions to demands can be complex. It’s not always outright refusal. Sometimes the child procrastinates severely to avoid the demand. Yes, we all procrastinate—but this is on a level that baffles the neurotypical brain. 

Sometimes, the child slows everything down to increase processing time and approach the demand in manageable increments. Occasionally, this involves diving into fantasy: “I’m a cat, Mummy!” This isn’t just cute playacting; it’s full immersion—a coping mechanism, like a life raft. 

Other reactions include freezing or shutting down entirely. I remember picking up my daughter from a much-anticipated “ballet” party. The host mum met us sadly at the door and said, “I’m afraid Phoebe just hid under the table and wouldn’t come out or speak to anyone.” 

For some individuals with PDA, demands can escalate into anger, aggression, or even violence toward parents. For those experiencing that, the fear and shame are excruciating—for everyone involved. 

So how do you parent a child with PDA? 

Most of us understand that boundaries are necessary. Some behaviours are not acceptable. But when commands are consistently met with fight, flight, freeze, or fawning (negotiating, procrastinatory behaviours), it becomes hard to know what to do. 

Standard praise-based, action/consequence parenting—what worked perfectly well for my autistic son—completely failed to connect with my clever, anxiety-ridden daughter. She was full of shame for her inability to access life like her peers. She understood what needed to be done but couldn’t follow through. 

Now add the spiritual weight of best-selling Christian parenting books, which teach that obedience must be immediate and unquestioning. If you can’t achieve that, you’re made to feel as though you’re denying the gospel itself and failing your child—not just socially, but spiritually. That burden is crushing for the enthusiastic Christian parent. 

Some of these books advocate breaking a child’s will to get compliance and respect for authority. But that approach misreads neurodivergence and processing challenges as sin. 

Church congregants and pastors who don’t understand this complex situation judge you through that lens. Parents are left feeling they’ve fallen short of an “adequate” Christian standard. 

So where is the hope?

First, parents: your child is not irretrievably broken. They are overwhelmed, overstimulated, and stuck in a trauma response. To calm things down, remove demands. 

When we realised our daughter was in total burnout, we had to set our priorities. Every family will make different choices, but for us, school attendance was non-negotiable. To make it sustainable, we cut out everything else. No after-school activities, no playdates. We cancelled music and swimming lessons—they had become sources of anxiety, not joy. 

Home time became about decompression. Pyjamas as soon as she walked in the door. Blankets, cartoons, quiet time until dinner. For some families, an extended break from school is unavoidable. 

Boundaries still existed—but sometimes they couldn’t be taught or discussed until after the crisis passed. Trying to add demands during a meltdown escalates things. This approach takes supernatural patience and resilience. But for those of you living this: you have not failed. It really is that hard. 

That’s why I recommend joining parent support groups. The only people who truly understand are those walking the same road. These are your people. You need them. Join the National Autistic Society and find local parent networks. 

Visit the PDA Society for resources and share them with others who want to understand. 

To church congregants and leaders 

I hope you can see the complexity and pain these situations cause. This isn’t a simple issue. It demands emotional intelligence and compassion. 

Your words and reactions matter. They can help exhausted parents and overwhelmed children find the spiritual rest they so desperately need. 

Believe them when they say how hard it is. Resist the urge to offer advice on something you may not fully understand. Offer kindness. Offer prayer. Offer a place to come and rest.