Why My Kids Didn’t Know How to Describe What Felt Wrong — and Why That Wasn’t a Red Flag
Not having words didn’t mean not having experience.
I kept asking gentle questions.
How do you feel? What feels off? Can you tell me what’s bothering you?
Most of the time, my kids just shrugged or said they didn’t know.
I assumed clarity would come with language.
Not being able to explain didn’t mean nothing was happening — it meant the experience lived below words.
Why Children Feel Before They Can Explain
Kids live in sensation before narrative.
Their bodies register comfort, strain, safety, and overload long before their minds organize those signals into meaning.
I didn’t understand yet how much my kids were experiencing without language.
The body speaks long before vocabulary catches up.
Lack of explanation reflected development, not absence of experience.
When Adults Expect Words for Somatic Experiences
I kept waiting for something specific.
A complaint. A description. A clear emotional label.
But what my kids were feeling wasn’t emotional in a tidy way — it was physical, cumulative, and situational.
Some experiences don’t arrive with names attached.
Expecting language made me miss what behavior was already communicating.
Why I Took Silence as Reassurance
If they couldn’t describe a problem, I assumed it wasn’t there.
This mirrored the same mistake I made when symptoms didn’t show up on forms or checklists.
I wrote about that confusion in why my kids’ symptoms didn’t show up on checklists.
We trust articulation more than observation.
Silence delayed clarity, not because nothing was wrong, but because I was listening for the wrong signal.
How Contrast Spoke Louder Than Language
The understanding came through contrast.
Away from home, my kids didn’t need to explain anything. Their bodies softened. Energy returned. Emotions steadied.
This was the same shift I described in why my kids’ symptoms quieted when we left the house.
Relief doesn’t require explanation to be meaningful.
What changed without words mattered more than what couldn’t be named.
What Changed When I Stopped Waiting for Description
I stopped asking my kids to explain what they couldn’t yet organize.
I started watching where ease showed up and where it didn’t.
That shift took pressure off all of us.
Understanding doesn’t require articulation — it requires attention.
Trusting patterns felt steadier than waiting for language.