Over the past several years, as parenting has become more complex, I’ve been doing more and more parent coaching. I’m finding that a lot of parents are concerned with a sudden and persistent set of changes in their teenage boys, the subject of my latest book Rescuing Our Sons. They report to me that their boys were bright-eyed and full of life not that long ago.
Now, in what feels to them to be a blink of an eye, those same boys are deeply depressed, anxious, sedentary, unhygienic and sometimes downright suicidal in their thinking. They are unwilling to try to function normally, though not that long ago they thrived without a thought. These formerly energized sons have become “patients”, self-diagnosed and often self-medicating, typically horizontal in bed or a basement couch, perpetually isolated and alone.
I so feel for these parents. I’ve been working with one mom and dad in the past few weeks whose son (we’ll call him Will) has always been a brilliant student and never had to work very hard, a natural. He was an impressive three sport athlete as well, always eager to play catch, practice field goals, or shoot hoops in the backyard for hours, sometimes alone, sometimes with his many good friends. In fact, Will seemed to be friends with the entirety of his grade.
Everything about him suggested green lights going into the future, socially, academically and physically.
Now, Will’s days are spent alone in the dark, sleeping, vaping THC, and playing video games. He’s gained weight and lost friends. He’s depressed and highly anxious. He feels sincerely that he’s lost the capacity to make it through the school day without anxiety taking him over. So, he opts out as often as he can. When Will does engage, he vapes marijuana just to self-medicate his way through the day. The future feels bleak to him, and he doesn’t seem to care.
His parents have, quite understandably, been alarmed at the seeming deterioration of their beautiful boy.
So a couple of years ago they got to work. They engaged in almost every intervention imaginable. They met with Will’s school to arrange for IEP and 504 plans, accommodations they really needed to fight for. After all, he was missing so many days with his social and academic anxiety getting the best of him with each passing semester. They sought help from advisors, counselors, social workers, psychologists and deans. They’ve had Will evaluated and assessed several times, and he’s accumulated diagnoses ranging from bipolar disorder to depression, panic disorder to fibromyalgia.
None of it fully resonated.
They decided to do some research on their own. They started reading parenting books from all kinds of experts, myself included. They earnestly tried every intervention that seemed like it might possibly work. I was beyond impressed with the research they had conducted, and the abundant work they had done.
Yet by the time they were sitting in my office, they reported to me that sadly, none of their tireless work had paid off. None of it moved the needle. Their son’s affect and behavior just continued to deteriorate as time went on.
As I watched them tell their story, I couldn’t help but empathize with their despair. Imagine if this was your child, falling apart day after day before your eyes, and you have no solutions. Beyond brutal, and it showed. They both seemed weary, tapped out and wholly dispirited. I know they would have given anything and everything to bring their boy back.
And in the wake of reporting the heartbreaking timeline from the past few years, our conversation devolved a bit. Mom and Dad began to blame themselves:
“We should have seen it coming.”
“Clearly, he didn’t get what he needed from us or he’d still be the kid we raised.”
It didn’t take long (still in that first session) for them to begin to turn on each other:
“You’ve always been way too hard on him, academically, in sports, even about cleaning his room. Like, we’re in a crisis! Who cares if his room is clean today, or ever again? Remember that time you yelled at him in the dugout? That might have been the beginning of it all.”
“Yeah, well, you’re too soft on him. You made him a Mama’s boy. No wonder he feels he doesn’t have to go to school. You do everything but give him permission.”
When you care so deeply for your child, and his seeming disappearance as a strong and functioning human is a mystery, it’s no wonder our parental fear turns inward and, at times, outward towards each other. I can only imagine their shock and dismay as their guy went from “the man“ to “nowhere man” in just a few short months early in the pandemic.
Mom and Dad tried countless interventions at home as well, restricting screen time and insisting Will spend time in common areas of the house, sharing meals and movie nights with the family. They constructed an astoundingly detailed chart of punishments and consequences for everything from skipping school to homework to failing to do the dishes on his designated night.
They had also tried most every iteration of therapy: individual, family, group, inpatient, intensive outpatient. They considered a therapeutic wilderness program and boarding schools away from home, fearful that the environment they provided was somehow toxic to their guy. If they saw a momentary shift in a positive direction, Will reverted back to baseline almost immediately.
Now, as far as they’re concerned, they’ve done all the things.
And by the time they found their way to my office, their well of hope for Will was extinguishing, shallow, nearly non-existent. They were both in tears as they shared their story, clearly not for the first time. At one point, Mom admitted, “I honestly don’t even know why we’re here, why we think this is going to be any different than any other time.”
“In fact, Duffy, we feel as if we’ve tried everything. And frankly, it doesn’t work. Not your self-help books, not the TikTok videos we’ve been watching, not the lectures we’ve attended or the professionals we’ve spoken to. None of it has worked.”
This made total sense. And it was entirely true. They HAD tried all the things. And none of those things had worked.
You’ve got to wonder why.
So, I asked some questions, which frankly must have been a frustrating exercise for these two haggard parents. I can imagine them sitting across from me thinking, “Oh, my God. We’ve answered all of these SO many times. This is just another dead end. Can we just leave now?”
And finally, I asked what their interactions with their son were like in a given day. They quickly realized that nearly all of their interactions with their son were negative, a reflection of what he SHOULD be doing, how he SHOULD be acting, and all he’s doing wrong. Of course, when they were able to acquire his fleeting attention, it felt like their only opportunity to dig in and make their point, press him into behaving and thinking differently, better, more appropriate. What parent wouldn’t grasp that rare chance at a lecture that may, just possibly, be received?
And I asked what they thought it might be like to BE Will. What it’s like for him when they approach?
They laughed at themselves as they reflected on how they must come across to him: angry, bitter, pushy, controlling. Who in their right mind wouldn’t tune them out?
“Oh, my goodness, I never really think about that. But it must be awful for Will to hear either of us at his bedroom door, just awful. His goal has always got to be to get rid of us as soon as possible.”
“Now that I think about it, I know he’s unhappy, and he can remember what a happier life feels like. He’s a smart kid, and that’s got to be brutal for him.”
And in the end, these parents agreed that, through the fog of fear, they forgot how much they loved this kid, all the good qualities he brings to the table, and how lonesome all of this must feel for him.
So, they followed my suggestion and started hanging out with him. Dad played his video games with him, despite the fact that Dad hates video games. Mom listened to music with him in the car. Some nights, regardless of how the day went, they’d grab some ice cream and binge-watch Arrested Development together, laughing.
It had been a long time, Mom reflected, since any of them had laughed, much less together.
Now, they both resisted this ideas at first, worried they’d be taking their eyes off the mission, and covertly rewarding unacceptable behavior.
But after a brief period of time, they discovered that these ordinary moments of connection took their family out of crisis mode, and allowed them to connect with one another again. They felt as if they had been aboard a listing, sinking ship, but the storm is now slowly passing, the seas settling, the sun breaking through. This alone was an enormous relief.
But it did far more than that. These changes boosted the balance in the Emotional Bank Account (EBA) they carry with one another, shifting that balance from deep in the red to well in the black. And this is a very big deal. Because with a strong positive balance in that EBA, the parents regained Will’s trust and confidence as well.
He began to share with them the intensity of his social anxiety returning to school after a pandemic. He told them for the first time that he’s mortified to be missing school, and every day he misses, the more awful he feels. They learned from him how badly he wanted to make them proud, and how deeply he feels as if he’s failing them, day after day.
Finally, he was communicating with them the nature of his suffering. Finally, they understood. This was invaluable to all of them.
Here are some really smart, kind parents who forgot. And I understand. It’s THE hardest thing. To breathe and connect with this person who is failing. And to let go, at least for the moment, of their fear. Fear that their son will have no future. Fear that he’ll be alone. Fear that he actually might not make it through this very rough patch intact.
Mighty parenting, that letting go.
Once they began communicating openly and honestly with one another (and that EBA was infused with fresh deposits daily), they began to problem-solve together. The idea was not to change everything all at once. Will shared with them that going from zero to one hundred was overwhelming to him. Instead, they took change intermittently. And more importantly, they collaborated on the shift.
He promised to try to make it to school every day, an earnest effort. They agreed that he could seek them out for an assist if he exhausted the resources on campus. He said he would gradually cut back on his intake of weed, provided that they allow him an “out clause” if he feels momentarily overwhelmed in any given situation.
Things are not perfect today, not by a long shot. Will still misses days of school. He still experiences moments of intense anxiety. But he also knows that he has his parents on his team. And this is making all the difference. They are in it together.
And with that, all of them feel far more hopeful about the future.
If this crisis dynamic is playing out in some way in your family, consider these points and questions:
Your child is not going to listen to your lectures. He doesn’t think you’re trying to get the same place. Where are you trying to go with him? Before you arrive at attempting behavior change, save yourself precious time and heartache, and go for connection and understanding. Build up the balance in that EBA.
Ask yourself if your child sees you as an ally, guide and consultant, or as an obstacle to be navigated. This will help you gauge where that EBA stands.
Then, foster an atmosphere of collaboration. Get to a point where you’re working together. Step back and widen your scope. If we’re at a 1 right now in terms of functioning, how do we get to a 2. Not a 9 or 10. He won’t be able to digest that radical a change.
Leveraging the balance in the EBA, ease out of crisis mode and into mutual, collaborative problem-solving mode.
With these steps, you will begin to gradually see the changes that Will’s parents are experiencing. Your child will find his way back to himself which, I must note, may not be precisely where he was, or what you picture. But remember this is his story being written, and that you are a supporting player.
You will also discover, like Will’s parents did, a deeper, stronger, more enjoyable and FAR less stressful relationship with your child. And he will know that he can lean into his connection with you not just in this moment, but going forward through his life. And that, I promise you, is priceless.