I thought I was failing my child when I pushed him to tears over homework. I was terrified. Turns out, what I really needed to do was throw the parenting rulebook out the window.

When my son Joey was expelled from school at age 7, I didn’t just feel like a failure—I felt completely lost. Joey wasn’t keeping up with his peers, and his international school in Tokyo decided he wasn’t “fit” to stay. He’s autistic, dyslexic, and has a language processing disorder. The school’s rigid structure didn’t work for him, but I didn’t know how to help.
So, I did what I thought good parents did: I pushed.

When the Rules Started Breaking Us

Every evening, I’d sit with Joey and force him to finish his homework, often into tears and way past bedtime. I thought I was helping him, but instead, I was watching him unravel.

Joey stopped sleeping. He started getting headaches, stomach aches, and fevers that seemed to come out of nowhere. His absences piled up, and his smile disappeared.

It wasn’t just Joey. My younger kids were struggling, too. Andy developed tics and started avoiding cracks in the pavement. Toby threw up every morning at daycare. The stress in our house was suffocating, and I realized school — and my approach — wasn’t working for any of us.

Then one day, sitting in my car, a question hit me like a lightning bolt: “If Joey was gone tomorrow, would I have any regrets?”
The answer was a resounding yes. I’d regret all the nights I pushed him when he was already struggling. I’d regret trying to make him fit a mold that wasn’t built for him. That moment changed everything.

How does a baby you hold in your arms — perfect and loved — become a child you think something is wrong with by age 8? It doesn’t make sense. Because there’s nothing wrong with our kids. What was wrong was the system they were in, and the way I tried to make them fit into it.

From Homeschooling to Unschooling: Taking the Leap

After Joey was expelled, we began homeschooling. It was a relief to step away from the rigid structure of traditional education, but even homeschooling came with its own pressures. I quickly realized I was still trying to control too much.

That’s when I came across the concept of unschooling. At first, it felt radical — completely child-led learning? No fixed curriculum? It sounded like something off-grid families might do. But the philosophy made sense. Unschooling is built on the idea that kids are naturally curious and capable of guiding their own learning.

No matter how I looked at it, it clicked.

So, we made the leap to unschooling. Joey began exploring his interests at his own pace, free from pressure or comparison. Toby learned how to read through video games, picking up words, phrases, and problem-solving skills naturally as he played. He also grasped math concepts like percentages and market values through racing games, where he calculated car upgrades and performance stats. These weren’t traditional lessons, but they were meaningful, and they stuck.

But unschooling wasn’t just a gradual shift for us. I didn’t dip my toe in — I jumped all in.

Throwing Out the Parenting Rulebook

I didn’t stop with school. I threw out every parenting rule I thought I had to follow.

And I mean all of it: snacks? They could eat what they wanted, whenever they wanted. Screen time? No limits. Play games as long as they liked. Bedtimes? Gone. Stay up all night if you want. School? Optional.

It was extreme, I knew it. I wondered if I’d regret it. What if I ruined my kids for life? What if this level of freedom didn’t work? But I also believed in something fundamental about human psychology. The more you tell someone “no,” the more they want it. Games and snacks become wildly attractive when they’re restricted. They’re a novelty. But when they’re always available, they stop being a big deal. I wanted my kids to be disciplined by choice.

I didn’t know what would happen. Would my kids spiral into chaos? Would they binge on candy and games forever? Would they lose all structure? I honestly didn’t know what to expect.

The Messy Middle: When Letting Go Gets Hard

The first few weeks were messy, no doubt. My kids ate candy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They stayed up late playing games. They tested every boundary I thought I’d erased.

But then, something started to happen.

The candy phase lasted about a month. They realized they didn’t like how just eating cookies, ice cream, and potato chips made them feel and started choosing fruits and onigiri (rice balls). Screen time? Minecraft taught them teamwork. YouTube became a treasure chest of learning. My middle son even started his own channel, edited videos, and went viral with over 70k views.

Joey, in particular, began to thrive. His autism meant he thought and learned differently, but with freedom, he explored his passions without pressure. He started asking questions, researching topics he cared about, and expressing himself in ways I’d never seen before.

School? After a few years of unschooling, all three kids chose to go back — on their own terms, driven by their own motivations.
And here’s what really surprised me: they began holding themselves accountable. They figured out balance because they wanted to — not because I forced it.

Letting Go Doesn’t Have to Look Like Mine

I know what I did sounds extreme. Going all in isn’t for everyone, and that’s okay. Letting go doesn’t have to mean throwing out every rule all at once.

Maybe it’s snacks. Maybe it’s screen time. Maybe it’s giving your kids more say in their schedule. Loosening one thing at a time is enough to see what works for your family. Think of it as an experiment — one you and your kids are figuring out together.

And here’s what I learned: when you stop forcing a plan, your kids start creating their own. They find what matters to them, what works for them, and how to balance it. Trust doesn’t just change them — it changes you. It takes the weight off your shoulders and lets you focus on connection instead of control or even fear.

What I found in letting go wasn’t chaos — it was clarity. My kids didn’t need me to hold the reins tighter. They needed me to believe in them. And that’s exactly what they gave back: the belief that I didn’t have to have all the answers, because they could find their own. Sometimes together.

Letting go doesn’t mean losing control. It means giving yourself and your kids the freedom to grow into something better. Something that’s special and works for you, your kids, and your family.

You can trust yourself that with the love you have for your kids, and because they are your kids, everything will be fine if you recreate your parenting rulebook.

Rino Murata
Certified Trauma-Informed Coach

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