The Trouble with Raising Teenage Girls

Every mother thinks they know how to raise a teenage girl, probably because they once were one. I have found I am very inept at the job. Most days, it is two stars out of five. I have a 13-year-old. She is intellectual, beautiful, and driven. Sometimes I observe her while I”m driving and I find her side profile, to be something straight out of Tyra Banks Top Model. She is stunning. The best parts about my girl are also the hardest parts about her middle school years. She is a perfectionist, goal oriented, involved in all the things, sometimes to a dizzying frenzy. The intensity for which she does everything is admired by me, but I think intimidating to an onlooker. Sometimes she is treating her 8th grade year, like that second season of Gilmore Girls. Let’s ditch the old and on with the Dean and Jess struggle of high school. During parent/teacher conferences, the teachers let me know she was just ready for high school. I smiled and cringed at the same time.

While I have always admired her ability to multi-task and want to be in the mix with all the people, I began to worry this fall when school started. She has always been my kid that takes care of business, the best grades, the one doing three sports at once. Staying up until 11, but also up at 5:30, switching her laundry over in the dryer. When her brother had his own battles with mental health the past three years, I would kiss her on the top of the head at night and think well at least she is good, right. At least she is managing her day okay.

The tricky part about teenagers, is , it’s never quite that simple. This September, she started withdrawing more. It would be home from school and up the stairs, shut the door. Airpods in, Mom is out. I would knock and interrupt with snacks, and ask if everything was okay and it was yup yup, leave the chips at the door. She stopped wearing her cute jeans, her crop tops we bought together for the start of school. It was sweat pants everyday. She wasn’t smiling after soccer games. She stopped ride sharing with friends and staring out the window as I drove her home. I kept thinking, this is the angsty phase. I went through this in 8th grade. It’s just her time.

But then at the doctors, she filled out the survey and checked off a few boxes about being sad some of the time, anxious others. All of a sudden, I had a form with a number to call and a kid who used to be all good. Who used to handle all the things and now there was a number and form, and a doctor wanting her to talk to someone.

I watched a few weekends in a row, as she fell apart during basketball games. At one point, my well put together kid, fouled on accident and then looked lost taking the ball out and then seemed to foul out on purpose, looking rejected on the bench as the game finished without her. I was heartbroken to watch this. She is not the highest scoring player, but this summer she began to have a maturity about her play that I hadn’t noticed before. She would talk to the other girls, she was taking agency over her own basketball, she had a presence on the court. Sometimes it rattled the other team how well our girls seemed to work together. It was so hard to watch her completely lose it on the bench. When I asked her what her coaches said to her, she just put her head down. She didn’t remember. I could tell she was so frozen in that moment that she was unable to even take advice.

On asking her if she wanted to talk to someone, she nodded quietly. Then she told me sometimes friendships were hard this year. Sometimes she felt like the most boring person in any room and that people would want to talk to others over talking to her any day of the week. This is hard to hear as a parent, as a Mom. She is one of the brightest spots of my life and to hear of her feeling like she dims every room, is truly soul sucking. In that moment, I didn’t tell her how many friends she has, or how wonderful she does at all the sports and all the classes. I just told her I see someone and it helps and I can find someone for her too. I didn’t dismiss her problems, or try to appease her because I don’t know with her what is feeling a little down, what is teenage angst and what is depression and it honestly doesn’t matter. I want her to walk down the hallway at school with that smile she used to have. I want her to take it easy on herself when a game doesn’t go so well and to be able to take advice and pivot when something isn’t working. I also want her to feel comfortable to come to me even when her sibling demands more at times, because we all need a little help and if I help her find help now, she will be able to find help when she is older, with no shame attached.

I am aware that she can read this on her own time and so can her friends. That part is okay with me. I grew up at the start of AOL, but before instagram, before Snapchat. When other friends hung out without me, I was none the wiser, using my sisters as my built in best friends anyway. When coaches gave me advice, I nodded and then went home and read my favorite book, because perfectionism has never been my jam. It is hard knocks out there to be a teen these days. You have to be the best athlete, the perfect friend, but also have so many friends, and make highest honors.

I’m here to say you don’t. It’s okay to not roll with the machine of it. To pause on what’s not working and give yourself credit for what is. This winter, my girl is going to play middle school basketball, but not on the weekends. If she is going to put pressure on herself, let’s not do it everyday. I messaged her race walk coach and she is going to join the high school girls on some of their trainings. She is going to do some snowboarding and maybe even join her loser of a Mom for a Saturday mid-day movie. I just want to pick her up from a dance and see her be silly, and easy on herself. I’m okay with a failed test, a bad game. She doesn’t have to keep up with the masses, she just needs to keep up with herself. To my 13-year-old and all her peers, I don’t always say the right thing, I will embarrass you nine times out of ten when I greet you, but you come to me with anything that doesn’t feel right. Your bulb is bright- I don’t give a shit what instagram says about it.