The Hardest Call I Ever Made — And Why It Changed Everything

What happens when the traditional path of education no longer fits — and how my daughter and I survived crisis, change and uncertainty.

I remember when I handed in notice for my daughter's school. It was the end of year 9. GCSEs started properly next year (the first proper set of exams for children if you're outside the UK). She was clearly not going to be able to manage them in the way she, I, or the school needed or wanted her to.

I sat on the sofa, put the phone down, and cried.

Today, my life started afresh. Not in a good way, but in a completely transformational, "oh my God, what do I do now?" way.

The Deputy Head was kind, gentle, and genuinely sympathetic. But sympathy wasn't what we needed. We needed options, practical solutions, scaffolding — and none of that was available. What she offered was essentially wishful thinking dressed as moral support. Keeping my daughter in school would have prolonged the stress, the pain, and the trauma for all of us.

For those of us that have felt the need to do this, to get to the point of leaving an educational setting is a massive thing to do (and I fully recognise not all experiences of leaving school are kind and supportive as mine was).

Contrary to those who have experienced home schooling themselves, especially in a happy or positive way, the shift to this form of education brings with it a massive fear of the unknown, sense of inadequacy, isolation and trepidation about the future for ourselves and our children.

This is perfectly normal.

But here's the truth: when we end up in these situations, as parents we know we have finally reached the end point of this particular journey. We have watched our children slide, pick up, falter, stumble, fall, pick up again and ultimately sink to the bottom of a pit that they really don't know how to get out of on their own.

It's NEVER a decision that's taken lightly, easily or even necessarily happily.

The Messy Middle

I never wanted, intended, or set out to be a homeschooler (even though I loved the concept in theory). But we still needed to have some sort of education and structure!

Once I’d moved through the initial fear and done more research than my brain could hold, I planned a brilliant ‘flexible routine’. It seemed like the home education forums were full of families doing amazing times and having great experiences, doing forest school, Japanese lessons and creative projects.

Except… mine wasn’t doing any of those, and my brilliant plan didn’t work.

She didn’t want to work at the times that felt sensible to me.

She resisted every offer of help.

She filled her days with pointless distractions.

We argued.

We fought.

We sulked.

We despaired.

We had no fun.

And then I remembered: we weren’t doing this for fun or by choice. We were out of school for health reasons. She was unwell — every single day. Expecting her to follow anything that resembled a school routine was unrealistic.

So we talked. Properly. Openly.

At the time, it felt like failure. Looking back, it was the turning point.

We needed something that worked for her, not something that looked good on paper.

Where We Are Now

My daughter? She sat up in her bedroom while I made the call to the school on that fateful day, apparently feeling a massive sense of relief. That day her life started afresh too. In a good way. No longer did she have to fight inner and outer demons daily and could start looking forward.

How did she do? She excelled. Did she do as well as she would have done if she hadn't been ill and able to be in school? No. But she did amazingly well in her years of enforced change and recognises this has shaped her to be who she is, giving her a sense of focus, time management, motivation. She's currently at University studying Clinical Psychology and Mental Health.

What This Journey Taught Me

This experience taught me that our children may not get where they're going in the way or shape that we once thought, dreamed or planned—but with love, support and the courage to let go of other people's expectations, they can get where they need to go. And so can we.

It also taught me that the fear, grief, and anger I felt on that sofa were necessary. They were part of clearing the ground so we could build something new. If you're at the bottom of that hole right now, give yourself permission to grieve what you thought your child's path would look like. That grief is valid, and it's part of moving forward.

Most importantly, I learned never to let my own fears hold up my children. The fear was mine to process, not hers to carry.

If You're Going Through This

I'm not here to tell you what to do, where to go, or who to speak to—there are some amazing resources and groups online, and I'd encourage you to seek them out. You know your child best. You do not need to conform to other people's version of school and life, often because our children aren't able to.

I can’t tell you which path is right, but I can help you navigate the emotional overwhelm that comes with these decisions — because I’ve lived it. I was a single mum to three young children navigating chronic illness and education, and I used a particular technique that grounded and strengthened me when I felt completely lost.

As a coach and hypnotherapist, I can support you — individually or in groups — as you move through the fear, grief, uncertainty, and rebuilding that come with pulling your child out of school or managing chronic illness alongside education.

I understand it. And you don't have to do this alone.

You can reach me at www.mamasinthistogether.com.

Are you affected by this topic? Have you had similar experiences? Will you share them with me?

Send me a message with your contact details and I’ll be in touch. And in the meantime remember to send this blog onto someone else who needs to understand they are not alone and to join our private facebook group for parents supporting children with chronic and invisible health challenges, Mamas In This Together https://www.facebook.com/groups/259165462952386