The way back to your teenager is through your own heart

I was 14 when I kissed my dad goodbye, not knowing it would be the last time. He had a brain aneurysm. 

That experience planted a seed in me, one that grew, quietly, into imagining the worst possible scenarios if my kids didn’t answer the phone straight away. If they were out of sight for a few moments at the playground. If I couldn’t reach them.

Letting go of the fear of anything happening to my kids has been a process.

A slow, layered process of noticing my grip. Noticing the spiralling thoughts. The catastrophic (and quite visual!) scenarios playing out in my mind like a film I never asked to watch. The anxiety that would flood my body before I even had time to think.

It was only a few years ago that I came to terms with something: I experience anxiety. Often. Especially when it comes to my children and anything happening to them. Actually, not just my children. People I love. Something happening to the people I love.

When your teenager’s world falls apart and you can’t fix it

Years later, during my divorce and around the time my mum passed away, my youngest son developed severe psoriasis. It was debilitating for him, physically and emotionally. The social impact, the effect on his self-esteem, the psychological weight of it. And the feeling of hopelessness in me as his mother was almost unbearable.

But looking back, that season of pain taught me something I didn’t expect. It taught me to let go. I didn’t choose it willingly. I just reached a point where I could not bear any more suffering, for me or for him. And at the time I was studying and practising mindfulness and meditation, where one of the foundational principles is the concept of letting go. Of allowing things to be. And so I did. I released the grip.

Mindfulness and meditation became embedded in my mind, body and heart. A way of living. And I felt it almost straight away: the release. The relief. The loosening of my need to control things, events, people outside of myself. I started to accept what was happening as part of life, instead of fighting against it.

Pulling myself out of hopelessness

I began to consciously shift. Instead of trying to protect and fix, I chose to love. Instead of hovering and smothering and constantly questioning, as if my son had become his skin condition, I learned to step back and create a loving, supportive space for him.

I couldn’t heal his skin. I couldn’t change what he was feeling. But I could hold space for him with acceptance, with presence, without gripping so tightly.

And something remarkable happened.

I felt a wave of calm wash through me. A renewed energy. A sense of peace. And that peace started to reach my son, too. Now I understand the science behind it: co-regulation. Mirror neurons. I was no longer projecting my anxiety and helplessness. I was offering something different. Something calm. And everyone at home could rest in this wonderful, loving, and yet accepting and free space.

When truth was finally told

The first time I consciously practised my communication approach with my youngest, I received yet another parental contact from school saying he had arrived late for the third time. I remember noticing the default impulse rise up in me:

That’s it! Next time I get another one of these you’re grounded!

You probably know the feeling.

But that time, I paused. I noticed everything that was arising in me. I breathed.

And I said to him:

I received a parental contact from school. Is everything OK? Is there anything I can help you with?

I swear the energy shifted. Right then and there. Something changed in him. He relaxed. He opened up with honesty and said:

Mum, I’m sorry. I’ve been waking up late these past few days and getting to school late. It won’t happen again.

No making up excuses. No lies. Just plain and simple truth.

And that was the beginning of a completely new way of relating to my children. An open one. One where I lead with curiosity instead of correction. One where I hold space for all their feelings, their fears, their frustrations, their emotions. One where I acknowledge first and validate before I respond.

I am telling you, this is life-changing.

Making kinder choices

When my older son came home and told me about his near-death experience surfing in Indonesia… don’t get me wrong. I still felt everything in my body. The sudden tension in my shoulders. The knot in my stomach. The urge to scream and tell him off and say he should stop doing reckless things.

And then I breathed. And I made a better choice.

Wow. That sounds terrifying. How did that make you feel? What were you feeling in that moment?

And that is liberating. For him. For me. Because instead of shutting the conversation down, I got to hear his emotions. He got to feel safe enough to share them with me.

What if the way back to them is through you?

How many times have you wished your child would change? Talk more. Be more engaged. Listen. Communicate. Open up.

Be honest with yourself.

If only they opened up more…

If only they stopped spending so much time on their phone…

If only they were more involved at school…

What if you could bring about the change you’ve been wanting? What if it started with you? With the way you relate to them. With releasing the expectations and choosing to love them exactly as they are.

What if the way back to them was through you?

This is the heart of From Controlling to Connecting, my 5-week 1:1 program for mums of older teens and young adults.

Over five weeks, I walk alongside you as you learn to loosen the grip, shift from correction to curiosity, and create the kind of open, connected relationship with your child that you’ve been longing for. These are the same practices that transformed my own experience as a mother.

If something in this post stirred something in you, I’d love to hear from you. Learn more and book your spot here.