Why does my autistic (Demand Avoidance) child struggle so much with rejection?
Sharing ideas on how I've helped my DA Daughter to navigate the inevitable
Hey there,
You can read the blog or listen to the podcast below:
Why does your autistic child struggle so much with rejection?
I'm talking specifically about a child with demand avoidance.
If you're coming from TikTok—great to see you here—you might want to skip the first five minutes of this video if it feels repetitive. Fast-forward to where I share strategies on how to help your child with demand avoidance handle rejection, both in the moment and moving forward.
If you haven’t seen the TikTok video, let’s start from the top.
Rejection is incredibly tough for a child with demand avoidance. And let’s be honest—you can’t shield them from it. Rejection is part of life. Sometimes kids won’t want to be friends. Sometimes your child gets picked last in the park. These things happen. They hurt neurotypical kids, and they definitely hurt demand avoidant children. But the pain runs deeper because their brains are wired differently.
When we talk about demand avoidance—sometimes called Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA)—we’re talking about an overactive stress response. When these children face stress, whether social (“You can’t play with us”) or structured (“You didn’t get picked”), their brain doesn’t just register disappointment. It sees a threat.
Why is that important? Because children with demand avoidance rely heavily on control to feel safe. They often plan and predict how situations will go—sometimes without realizing it. So when something unexpected happens, like being left out or told no, it’s not just upsetting—it feels like losing control. And that triggers panic.
Their brain is trying to protect them. What we see on the outside—meltdowns, anger, shutdowns, or even indifference—is often a child who feels overwhelmed and vulnerable.
Helping my daughter Ruby through rejection in the park recently gave me a lot to reflect on. She had a big reaction to something small. She plays with another homeschooled girl regularly. But this time, after the other girl said no to playing a game Ruby had imagined, Ruby swore and said, “I don’t like that girl.”
When Ruby calmed down, it became clear: she wasn’t just upset about a disagreement. She felt rejected. Her brain had already imagined the game and how it would go. When it didn’t happen that way, she lost her sense of control—and that triggered her stress response.
So what can we do in that moment?
Step 1: Validate feelings without fixing.
When Ruby swore and said she didn’t like the girl, I didn’t correct her. I said, “It looks like that really upset you. I know it’s hard when things don’t go the way we wanted.”
I’m not agreeing with the swearing—but I’m validating her experience. This helps calm her nervous system and sends the message: you’re safe, and I get it.
Step 2: Stay close and calm.
Instead of correcting or explaining, I sat with her quietly. I didn’t try to talk her out of her feelings. I kept my voice slow and my energy steady. Co-regulation comes first—before any discussion about language or behavior.
Step 3: Gently reframe the story later.
Not in the moment—but later, when things are calm. As we walked home with some chips (as you do), I said, “Sometimes when I wanted people to play with me at school and they didn’t, it didn’t mean they didn’t like me. It just meant they couldn’t play right then.”
I wanted her to understand that not getting your way doesn’t always mean rejection. Timing is everything with a demand avoidant child.
Step 4: Build rejection resilience with low-stakes games.
At home, we play games like Hungry Hungry Hippos, where Ruby can win or lose. We keep the stakes light and name the feelings: “That’s frustrating. Want to try again or take a break?”
Think of it like a muscle. You’re helping them manage disappointment without panic—modeling how to lose with humor and calm.
Step 5: Use metaphors and stories.
Kids like Ruby often respond better to pictures than explanations. I might say, “Yeah, you didn’t get what you wanted—just like when it rained and we had to stay inside. But after the rain, there’s a rainbow.”
Stories and analogies help her process experiences on her own terms.
Step 6: Offer autonomy in the repair.
Give them power back. I ask, “What would help you right now? A cuddle, a snack, quiet time, stomping like a dinosaur?”
This gives her the sense of control she needs. It’s about helping her feel safe and seen—not fixing everything immediately.
Remember, it’s not about fixing the moment. It’s about teaching their brain that these moments—however big they feel—are survivable.
These small practices—validating feelings, co-regulating, low-stakes games—have helped Ruby. Over time, we’re helping build our kids build emotional strength and resilience.