I can’t switch off

By Lee Tempest, January 2026.

This piece was written from the perspective of a parent who has lived for many years with child‑to‑parent violence. It reflects not just moments of fear, but the long-term impact of living in a constant state of alertness, where home no longer feels fully safe and the body never quite learns to relax.  

I can’t switch off, I think I am under constant threat – when your own child is the danger 

I don’t understand why my body does this. 

I’ll be sitting there, just having lunch in the café with a friend, trying to be normal… and a truck goes past, and I flinch.  Not just a small reaction my whole body reacts, like something’s about to hit me.  It’s embarrassing.  It happens before I even think. 

And then there’s the shaking.  That tremor that creeps in the second I get stressed.  I can’t hide it.  It’s visible.  People notice.  And the more I notice it, the worse it gets. It’s like I’m stuck inside something that’s giving me away. 

Traffic lights… I don’t know why, but they do it too. Just sitting there in my car, waiting, nothing happening and suddenly my anxiety goes through the roof.  My chest tightens, my mind starts scanning for something that isn’t even there.   It doesn’t make sense, but it’s real. 

I keep asking myself, what is that about? 
Why does everything feel like a warning? 

Even places that should feel safe don’t.  Like the shower just standing there, water running and I can hear a child screaming. Clear as anything. But there’s no one there. And I know that.  But I still hear it.  And it stays with me. 

Years have gone by like this.  Years. 
And I’m still carrying all this grief that just doesn’t shift.   It comes out of nowhere  tears, emotion, like something’s constantly sitting just under the surface.  Every day.  It hasn’t let me go. 

I’m tired. Not just tired exhausted. 
From feeling everything this strongly. 
From being on edge all the time. 

Because underneath all of it… there’s this constant sense that something isn’t safe.  Like there’s always a threat, just sitting there, waiting. 

And when it comes to my child… that feeling doesn’t go away. 
There’s this undercurrent of potential violence that I can’t ignore. 
It’s always there, in the back of my mind. 

So I stay alert. I stay tense. 
I watch, I brace, I prepare without even meaning to. 

And the worst part is… it never really stops. 
Even when nothing is happening. 
Even when everything should be calm. 

It just doesn’t let me rest.