Steph Bartram. Positive Behaviour Support Practitioner and Mother of a PDAer.
What is PDA?
PDA stands for Pathological Demand Avoidance, though many families and professionals now simply use the acronym without unpacking it, or prefer the alternative framing "Persistent Drive for Autonomy."
Here's what you need to know: PDA is a profile of autism where a person's nervous system perceives everyday demands as genuine threats. When that threat response kicks in, it triggers the same physiological reaction as if they were facing real danger. It's not a choice. It's not defiance. It's their brain trying to protect them.
"It is a perception of threat that is specifically tied to the loss of autonomy or equality, and it sets off a nervous system response that is tied to the survival instinct," explains Dr Casey Ehrlich, a leading voice in PDA understanding.
Think of it like this: imagine someone with a severe spider phobia being told they have to pick up a huntsman. Their brain screams danger, their body floods with adrenaline, and rational thought goes out the window. That's what happens for a PDA person when faced with demands. Except the 'spider' might be brushing their teeth, putting on clothes, or eating breakfast.
And here's the really confusing part: the demand doesn't have to come from someone else. Internal demands count too. Your own body telling you you're hungry? That's a demand. Wanting to finish a puzzle you started? That's a demand. Even things they desperately want to do can feel impossible when the demand-alarm goes off.
What's actually happening in the brain
Understanding what happens neurologically helps explain why PDA isn't about choice or defiance.
When a PDA person encounters a demand, their brain perceives it as a threat. In that moment, something critical happens: the prefrontal cortex - the part of the brain responsible for rational thought, decision-making, and self-control - goes offline. The amygdala, which governs survival instincts, takes over completely.
This is the same mechanism that kicks in when any of us face genuine danger. Your brain doesn't consult the rational thinking part when a car is speeding toward you. It just reacts. Survive first, think later.
For a PDA person in threat mode, their brain has literally lost access to the parts that would allow them to "just do it anyway" or "make a better choice." When professionals or parents demand better behaviour from a child in this state, we're asking for something that is neurologically impossible in that moment.
The threat response shows up in four main ways: fight (arguing, explosive anger, focus on unfairness), flight (zoning out, escaping into special interests, avoiding conflict), freeze (shutdown, complete stillness, "I don't know"), and fawn (masking, people-pleasing, appearing overly sociable to avoid confrontation).
Understanding this changes everything. We're not dealing with wilful disobedience. We're dealing with a nervous system in survival mode.
How do you know this might be your child?
PDA shows up differently depending on age, but there are some common threads families notice.
In younger children, you might see someone who's been resistant to basic caregiving from early on. Getting dressed feels like a battle. Mealtimes become a minefield. Brushing teeth or bathing can be a big one.
You might notice your child treating adults as equals rather than authority figures. They don't seem to understand the concept of a hierarchy. Rules apply to other people, not to them.
Fantasy and role-play become powerful tools. Your four-year-old might genuinely believe they can't get dressed because they're a cat, and cats don't wear clothes. It's not lying. It's their brain finding a way to cope.
As children get older, the strategies become more sophisticated. They're brilliant negotiators. Masters of distraction. "Mum, did you know that octopuses have three hearts?" might pop out when you've just asked them to pack their school bag. They can be charming, funny, and utterly exhausting.
School often becomes the biggest flashpoint. About 70% of children with PDA either aren't enrolled in school or regularly struggle to attend. And here's something that confuses everyone: your child might hold it together beautifully at school, then completely fall apart the moment they get home.
We call this the "Coke bottle effect." Every demand at school shakes the bottle. Sit still. Follow the timetable. Write neatly. Make eye contact. Eat lunch at the right time. Transition between activities. By the time they reach their safe space (you), the lid comes off. The explosion at home isn't because school is fine and home is the problem. It's because their brain finally feels safe enough to release all that built-up stress.
One mum in a recent Australian study put it perfectly: "Over the summer holidays when he hasn't been in school, and we've been able to sort of be very low demand, you could see him again. He's not just this ball of angry anxiety all the time."
What PDA is not
Let me be really clear about something: PDA is not naughty behaviour. It's not a parenting problem. And it's definitely not something that will respond to "firmer boundaries."
I've lost count of the number of families who've been told their child just needs more structure, clearer consequences, or a better reward chart. For a PDA child, those strategies don't just fail. They often make things spectacularly worse.
Here's why: when you increase pressure on a nervous system that's already perceiving threat, you're essentially turning up the volume on their internal alarm system. More rules equal more demands. More demands equal more threat. More threat equals bigger reactions.
Another common misconception: "They can do it when they want to, so they're choosing not to."
This one breaks my heart every time I hear it. Yes, PDA children are capable. Their skills are intact. But their ability to access those skills depends entirely on their nervous system state. What they could do yesterday might be completely impossible today.
"The way that we are coming at PDA is often thwarted because we're looking at PDA as though it's a choice," explains Kristy Forbes, Australian PDA specialist and mother to PDA children. She emphasises that what we're really seeing is "a perception of threat that is specifically tied to the loss of autonomy or equality."
This reframing is crucial. PDAers aren't seeking control for control's sake. They're seeking equity - a sense of balance in their interactions with the world. Traditional parenting and teaching structures that position adults as "up here" (authority) and children as "down here" (subordinate) register as a threat to that equity. The avoidance behaviours we see are attempts to restore balance.
This is why even praise can backfire. When we say "Great job!" we're inadvertently placing ourselves in a superior position - the one who gets to judge and approve. For a PDA child, this creates imbalance. They might destroy the very drawing you just praised, not because they're ungrateful, but because their nervous system is trying to restore equity and reject the hierarchy that praise implies.
It's not manipulation. It's biology.
And please, don't confuse PDA with Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD). This distinction matters enormously because the approaches that help one will harm the other.
PDA is nervous system driven. The avoidance is involuntary, targets everything (even fun things), and uses socially sophisticated strategies like negotiation and charm. PDA kids often feel terrible about their behaviour afterwards.
But with ODD, the opposition is deliberate, selective to unwanted demands, and directed at specific authority figures.
Applying ODD strategies (firm boundaries, consistent consequences) to a PDA child will increase their anxiety and escalate behaviour. It's not just unhelpful. It's harmful.
The trauma connection
Something important that often gets missed: PDA itself doesn't come from trauma, but having PDA can predispose someone to developing trauma.
Think about it. A child who experiences the world through this lens of threat, who struggles with demands from their earliest years, who is constantly told they're being difficult or defiant or manipulative. A child whose nervous system is regularly flooded with fight-or-flight chemicals. A child who can't make adults understand that they genuinely can't, not won't.
This creates what we call relational trauma. Disrupted attachment. Years of being misunderstood by the very people you depend on for safety.
When we don't recognise and accommodate PDA, we risk layering trauma on top of an already challenging neurological profile. When we do understand it, we can prevent so much of that harm.
So what actually helps?
As both a PBS practitioner and a PDA parent, I've learned that everything comes back to one core principle: when nervous systems feel safe, brains can problem-solve.
This means we need to flip traditional parenting on its head.
Reduce the demand load
This doesn't mean no demands ever. It means being ruthlessly selective about what's genuinely non-negotiable. Safety issues, yes. Wearing the 'right' shoes to school? Probably not worth the battle.
I work with families to identify their absolute essentials, then give themselves permission to drop everything else. If teeth brushing triggers a meltdown, try mouthwash for now. If getting dressed is impossible, let them stay in pyjamas or sleep in tomorrow's clothes.
This isn't permissive parenting. It's disability accommodation. You wouldn't tell a child who uses a wheelchair to just try harder to walk up the stairs. PDA children need accommodations too.
Work toward equity, not hierarchy
Once you understand that PDA is about equity-seeking rather than control-seeking, your entire approach shifts.
Instead of "I'm the adult, you're the child, you need to do what I say," we aim for "We're in this together. How can we both get what we need?"
This doesn't mean children make all the decisions. It means we remove unnecessary hierarchy wherever possible. We ask for their input. We problem-solve collaboratively. We treat them as equals in the conversation, even when we're still the ones ultimately responsible for their safety and wellbeing.
When my daughter helps decide what's for dinner, when she has genuine input into how we structure our day, when I ask her opinion on family decisions, her nervous system registers: "I'm safe. I have autonomy. I'm in equity here." The demands that remain become more manageable because the overall balance feels right.
Change your language
The way we phrase things matters enormously. Direct demands ("Put your shoes on") trigger that threat response. But we can work with their brain instead of against it.
Try observations instead of instructions: "It looks cold outside today" rather than "Go get your jacket." Or wondering aloud: "I'm wondering what we need for the park..." and then pausing to let them fill in the gap.
Give genuine choices whenever possible: "Red shirt or blue?" "Would you like to do teeth or hair first?" These must be real choices, though. PDA children have finely tuned manipulation detectors.
Depersonalise demands when you can: "The law says everyone needs a seatbelt" takes the pressure off you as the enforcer.
A word of caution: some PDA adults have told me that overly indirect language can feel manipulative. If your child calls you out on it ("Just tell me what you want, Mum!"), listen to them. Be more direct, but frame it as information rather than a command.
Collaborate, don't control
This is where my PBS background really aligns with PDA support. Collaborative Problem Solving (developed by Ross Greene) is brilliant for PDA when you use it proactively.
Pick a calm moment. Say something like: "I've noticed mornings are really tough. I'm worried we're going to be late, and I know you're feeling stressed too. What could we try together?"
Then genuinely listen. Their solutions might be creative, unusual, or seemingly illogical. That's okay. The act of problem-solving together builds trust and gives them back the autonomy their nervous system is desperately seeking.
Understand the nervous system
PDA is fundamentally about a nervous system that perceives threats to autonomy and equity, triggering survival responses
This means creating sensory-friendly environments, building in downtime, watching for signs of overload before they hit crisis point, and understanding that capacity fluctuates constantly.
I track my daughter's nervous system like some parents track blood sugar. What's her baseline today? How many demands has she already managed? What's her capacity right now? It can feel exhausting, but it prevents so many meltdowns.
What not to do
Reward charts rarely work for PDA. Why? Because rewards create expectations, and expectations are demands. Even praise can backfire for the reasons I mentioned earlier - it creates hierarchy and threatens equity.
Consequences feel unfair when behaviour is rooted in "can't" not "won't." And they reinforce the child's belief that nobody understands them.
Traditional ABA approaches that focus on compliance? Actively harmful for PDA. We need to understand why behaviour is happening, not just make it stop.
What this means for schools
Here's what schools need to understand: your child isn't fine at school and difficult at home. They're masking at school (an enormous, exhausting effort) and decompressing at home (in the only place they feel safe).
When you talk to teachers, frame everything through a nervous system lens rather than using the term "PDA" (which many educators still don't recognise). Talk about your child's need for autonomy, their threat response around demands, and how traditional behaviour management increases their distress.
Helpful accommodations include a trusted key adult, quiet spaces for decompression, flexible expectations around work completion, genuine choices wherever possible, and understanding that homework might need to go.
Most importantly: school avoidance in PDA is really school "can't." Forcing when their nervous system is maxed out can deepen the trauma and make eventual return even harder.
The questions I hear most often
"Am I being too soft?"
This question haunts PDA parents. And I want to say clearly: accommodating your child's neurological needs is not permissive parenting. It's informed parenting based on understanding their profile.
I parent my other children differently because they don't have PDA. The strategies I use with my daughter aren't "easier" – they're appropriate. There's a massive difference.
"Will my child be okay?"
I can't promise you an easy road. But I can tell you that children with PDA are often remarkably creative, funny, determined, and charismatic. With the right support and understanding, they can absolutely thrive.
Many PDA adults create fulfilling lives through roles that give them autonomy. Early understanding and appropriate support make an enormous difference to outcomes.
"How do I explain this to family?"
Try the phobia analogy. Just as someone with a spider phobia can't "just get over it," your child can't "just comply." Their brain is perceiving genuine threat. What looks like defiance is actually panic.
The strategies that help aren't about letting them "get away with" things. They're about helping their nervous system feel safe enough to engage.
Where to from here?
Finding a practitioner who truly understands PDA can be challenging, but it's worth the search. The right support makes an extraordinary difference.
And if you're in the thick of it right now, with school refusal and daily battles and everyone telling you your parenting is the problem, please hear this: You are not failing. Your child is not broken. Their brain works differently, and when we work with it instead of against it, beautiful things become possible.
One parent in a recent study described her role as being her child's "wheelchair" – providing the essential support her child cannot do without.
Being a parent to a PDAer can be exhausting, yes. But it's also profound and forces you to grow and play an extremely valuable role in your child's life.
