You're afraid your teenager isn't going to make it.

Photo by Anita Austvika on Unsplash

Remember the fairy tales you heard when you were young?

In many of them, once the scary thing was brought out into the light, goodness followed. The people went back to their village, the lovers reunited and the sheep were safe on the hillside.

As parents of this generation of teens and young adults, we face scary things. The scary things out there – violence, greed, dehumanization, political instability, environmental degradation – and the scary things lurking inside our children like anxiety, ADHD, eating disorders, emotional dysregulation and depression.

Fears thrive in the darkness and multiply when we keep them to ourselves so it’s important that we name them and bring them out of the shadows.

Because this is what’s real:

You're afraid that if you don't check up on your kid, remind them to do their homework 10 times and ensure that they’ve taken their meds, things will fall through the cracks and crises will occur. You're afraid they'll have another episode and you’ll spend hours and hours and hours getting them restabilized. You’re afraid they’ll end up back in the hospital, or worse.

You're afraid that their anxiety/depression is kind of your fault. That you should have seen the signs sooner, done something different, been more… something. You're afraid that anything you say or do could incite another blow up and you'll be injured. Even though you know it’s not true, you're afraid it means you haven't done your job as a parent very well.

You're afraid that they're never going to get better and that you're always going to be carrying the burden of their mental or emotional challenges. You're afraid that they're not going to make it in the world. That they won’t be able to take care of themselves, find a job, and make friends. And you're afraid it's going to break your heart.

It’s tough to have all these thoughts and feelings and still keep parenting. Really tough.

The demands are beyond your qualifications, above your pay grade and way more than you thought you signed up for. You're afraid that you don't have enough energy to keep going.

Your heart aches for their wellness and happiness.

And beneath all that, you're afraid that you haven't met the honour of being a parent to this soul. That you were sent a precious child and you haven't managed to bring forth their light in the way that you should've by now. You’re afraid that there's something inherently wrong with you that you can't do a better job of this. You're afraid that you’re failing the ultimate sacred role - that you were never worthy of it in the first place.

You're afraid that you're stuck. You want to make a change, get back into alignment with yourself and have this story go differently. But just keeping your kid’s head above water is precarious and the thought of making any change brings up fear. You’re afraid that if you rock the boat, you’ll make things worse.

You’ve consulted with so many doctors, therapists and specialists. You’ve read books about your kid’s diagnosis and learned so much medical jargon you feel you’ve almost earned a degree. And still more seems to be required of you.

You’re running out of energy, running out of ideas and running out of time. Your thoughts are confused, your neck aches, and your belly churns. You cry at night and brace yourself in the morning and walk out into the kitchen to face whatever comes next…

You think about seeking the guidance and support you really need and you're afraid that you're weak and selfish. And you’re afraid it won’t work.

Pause here, dear one. This is uncomfortable, I know, but stay with it…

What’s happening in your body right now? Take a breath. Adjust your position.

What emotions are moving though you? Take 3 gentle breaths. Let them flow through.

What inner dialogue has been generated? Notice that they're just words.

People will tell you that courage is what’s needed in the face of such fears, that you need to dig deep into the fibers of your being and draw forth more bravery, more energy.

But you’re already exhausted.

People will tell you to look on the bright side. But that leaves you feeling like there’s yet another thing you need to do – cultivate optimism out of thin air and suppress your fears.

But fear isn’t the enemy; it’s an invitation to hope.

Hope? What is hope?

Social psychologist Erich Fromm said that hope is paradoxical. “It is neither passive waiting nor is it unrealistically forcing circumstances that cannot occur. To hope is to be ready at every moment for that which is not yet born."

What is not yet born in your kid?

In you?

In your relationship?

Hope is both a noun and a verb.

Noun: something I can sense the subtle energy of, be surrounded by, inspired by, feel in my heart and soul and recognize as possibility. I don’t mean convincing myself that everything is going to be beautiful. When a child has mental health challenges, everything is not going to be beautiful.

So, no, not pretending. But tapping into the energy of goodness, the positive life force and the potential that exists for my kids to find their way in the world – find the supports they need, develop the habits that will support their wellbeing, find a vocation they enjoy and have meaningful relationships.

It’s about cultivating my access to the energy of hope that is all around me and part of the universal design.

Verb: something I choose and engage in. It’s a way of moving in the world and a way of interacting. The conscious action of stirring and stimulating the ingredients of the future.

Practices to cultivate Hope

The Opening Bud

Observe a bud on a tree or plant for the next week. Each day, begin by imagining what it will look like when it’s open. Then walk by and notice the changes (take pictures if you like).

Write in your journal:

What did you see today?

What's the difference between what you expected to see and what is there?

What is required of you to adjust to this difference?

What are you learning about your way of hoping for the opening?

A Mantra

Thich Nhat Hanh said that our greatest antidote to fear is the quality of love we give through our presence. This is incredibly difficult to do amongst the daily demands and distractions of living in this world (and raising a kid who’s struggling) so he offered us this simple mantra: “Dear one, I am here for you.”

Say it with your body, heart and mind. Say it every day, whether your kid is near or far. And for those moments, you’re not preoccupied with the past or the future, not on the brink of drowning, but there, really there, in a higher quality way.

Listen to Hope

Emily Dickinson wrote, “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.”

Choose a song that fills you with hope and listen to it every morning. It doesn’t matter if it’s a tranquil spiritual or ragged-voiced rock, as long as it sparks that part of your heart where hope lives.

The part where the people go back to their village, the lovers reunite, and the sheep are safe on the hillside.