What “Not Today” Really Means
When my child says “not today,” it lands in my body before it reaches my brain.
Even now. Even after all this time.
Those two words can stop a morning in its tracks. They bring up a rush of questions I don’t always have answers to. Are we going to make it out the door? What does this mean for today? What does it mean for tomorrow?
For a long time, I heard “not today” as refusal. As resistance. As something to push against. I thought if I could just explain things better or stay calmer or be more encouraging, we’d move forward.
What I’ve learned is that “not today” usually isn’t a decision at all.
It’s communication.
By the time the words come out, a lot has already happened
Most anxious kids don’t wake up planning to say they can’t go. They wake up hoping they can. They try to move through the routine the way they’re supposed to. They brush their teeth. They sit on the bed. They pick up their clothes.
And somewhere in that process, something tips.
It might be a thought they can’t shake. A feeling in their body that gets louder. The realization that the day ahead feels bigger than what they have to give. By the time they say “not today,” they’ve often already been trying for a while.
The words are simple. The moment isn’t.
It’s rarely just about school
School is usually where the struggle shows up, but it’s not always where it begins.
“Not today” can be carrying:
exhaustion from holding it together yesterday
fear of being seen or judged
pressure to perform or get it right
sensory overload that hasn’t reset overnight
a body already bracing for stress
School becomes the place where everything converges. The feelings arrive there all at once.
When the nervous system takes over
In those moments, logic doesn’t land the way we want it to. An anxious child’s nervous system is doing its job — trying to protect them from something that feels unsafe.
When fear is leading:
reassurance can sound far away
urgency can feel threatening
even gentle encouragement can be too much
“Not today” is often the clearest language a child has access to when everything inside them feels loud.
Why pushing can make things harder
I’ve learned this the hard way. When a child is already overwhelmed, pushing forward can accidentally confirm their fear that something isn’t okay.
That doesn’t mean we never encourage. It doesn’t mean we give up on school or expectations. It means that timing matters.
Connection and regulation usually have to come before problem-solving. Without that, even the best-intentioned strategies can escalate the moment.
Listening doesn’t mean giving up
This part matters.
Listening to “not today” does not mean:
you’re letting anxiety win
you’re avoiding school forever
you’re lowering expectations permanently
It means you’re hearing the message before deciding the response.
Understanding first. Decisions second.
A different way to hear the words
I’ve had to learn to hear “not today” as information, not the end of the road.
It tells me:
my child’s capacity is low
something feels unsafe right now
support needs to come before movement
That reframing doesn’t make mornings easy. But it has softened the way I enter them. And sometimes, that shift alone changes how the rest of the day unfolds.
In the next post, I’ll share some of the small, gentle responses that have helped us in these moments. Not fixes. Just ways of staying connected when fear takes the lead.
For now, it’s enough to remember this:
“Not today” is rarely about defiance.
More often, it’s about a child doing their best with what they have.
rise & try again