Yesterday afternoon, I got a call from a mother in distress. The woman was a stranger to me, a single mom struggling through tough times with a troubled teenaged son. My younger son went through his own tough time at age sixteen. I knew right away how things were for her — the helplessness, the worry, the anger, the isolation, the sleepless nights. Of course, it always helps to talk with a person who’s already lived through what you’re enduring in the moment. And so, I was glad someone had given her my number and that she had had the willingness to call. I listened, as best I could while driving down the highway, and tried to offer her the only advice I felt qualified to give: get help.
It seems like such a simple thing, asking for help. And yet it can be so hard. Hard to admit, “What I’m doing isn’t working.” Or, “I have a problem that is bigger than I am.” Revealing the cracks–in our family life, in a relationship, in our own carefully crafted personas — means showing just how vulnerable we really are. Most of us have a lot invested in putting a good face on things, a message our children internalize early and master by adolescence. They get pretty good at acting as if they don’t care, even when things are falling apart around them. Even when, inside, they are as lost and scared as we are.
I’ve learned a few life lessons from my teenaged sons, and most of them can be boiled down to the first lines of the Serenity Prayer, adopted years ago by 12 Step programs. If you are sharing your house with someone between the ages of 14 and 18 or so, you might think about taping these words up on your bathroom mirror:
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
In one way or another, motherhood seems to demand that we confront this idea every single day. For much of last year, the operative word for me was “courage.” “Courage to change the things I can” means courage to admit that things aren’t working, and that we have a responsibility to our children and to ourselves to find a better way. More often than not, the first step on that path is the willingness to say, “We need a hand here.” And then we are called to summon in ourselves yet another dose of courage. The courage to follow through, and to make hard choices and sometimes painful changes. The courage to be the best parents we can be, moment to moment, even when that means letting go of an ideal or a vision of the way things “ought” to be.
Asking for help ourselves, we lead the way for our children. We affirm our own faith in the world, and strengthen theirs a little, by saying, “We aren’t alone.”
“I have to go now,” I finally said to my caller, promising that we would speak again. I was meeting my son, to watch him play squash, a sport he discovered this winter and has taken up with a passion. I’d never even seen a squash match till a few weeks ago, when I googled one on YouTube, so I’d know just what it was that Jack was so excited about. Yesterday, we sat together and watched the varsity team, as he explained squash strategy and how to score. By the time he entered the court to play, I had my bearings. I sat with his best friend, who cheered him on in true best-friend spirit, and who kindly gave me a bit of play-by-play as the match progressed.
Afterwards, over dinner, we talked about how much has happened in a year, how good things are now, how excited Jack feels as he looks into the future, wondering where he’ll go to college, what he’ll end up doing with his life, what might be just around the corner.
These days, I’m working with the “wisdom” part of that prayer. My sons are both so close to being all grown up. And being the best parent I can be now means remembering that how they each “turn out” isn’t up to me and my husband anymore. It’s up to them.
Wisdom is about knowing what I still need to keep hold of — our family values, basic agreements for living together in the house when the kids are at home, and confidence in their good judgment when they’re not. It still means consequences that are directly related to poor decisions, although we don’t have too many of those at this point. And it means knowing what it’s time for me to let go of: the idea that it’s my job to make the world right for my children.
We are feeling our way into this new, more mature way of being and relating to one another. And it’s a pleasure, realizing that I can show up, be present, and trust that my sons have learned the most important lessons I had to teach them. Including the one that can save us all: “Ask for help.”
Thank you Katrina. I can only add my own confirmation of the wisdom of asking for help. My son had what could be charitably termed a "turbulent" adolescence. We have made it through to the other side of that now (he’s 24) with the help of more people than I can possibly count. The most important lesson I learned in those years was not being afraid to ask for assistance, not worrying about what anyone thought of me or how I looked to others. All that mattered was getting help for me and for my precious boy who was struggling. There is tremendous wisdom, compassion and kindness in the world when we open ourselves to ask for it.
Well said. I really needed this. Thank you.
I totally agree. We never thought we’d have to seek professional help when it came to relationships. Jeff and I were best friends long before we dated and it has helped our marriage a lot. We are on the same page a good part of the time and can meet in the middle most of the rest of the times.
But our first year in NY was true hell on all of us. We’d left a life we truly loved in Utah, had moved into a beat up old house because it was what we could afford, spent a year in constant renovations and sheetrock dust as we ‘did it ourselves’, and on top of all of that, had our first born, independent spirited oldest child start high school in a much harder school district than we’d left. This led to diving grades, heated discussions, confusion on all sides, until our family physician wisely said, "You need to get help"…..
It had never occurred to me that WE’D quailfiy for counseling. But I am so glad she pushed us. We found a fantastic counselor, and after just a few very strategic sessions, we found our way again. I learned so much from that experience, about us, about kids, about how it is SO okay to reach out and say, "We have no idea what to do next."
I am glad you were that woman’s shining hope this week. We are all here for each other, aren’t we, friend?
judy
justonefoot.blogspot.com
I say a hearty "Amen." We are still in the midst of turbulence, very heavy at times, and I made the phone call for help one lonely night. Fortunately, we know great people, and things are slowly shifting into place. Yes, don’t be afraid and often say the Serenity Prayer. It is a lifeline for the teen years. I just watched your video and then posted it to FB. It was lovely.~~Dee
Hello Katrina, What you have written is so very true. During the past year and a half, my family has learned to ask for help alot dealing with my teenage daughter’s pregnancy. The embasrssment and thinking it was "the end of the world" had to be put aside. We had to step up to the plate and ask many people for wisdom and help. No one is immune to anything. Life’s hardships does not play favorites. Anything can happen to anyone no matter what social class, finanacial situation or education. Fortunately, everything is going good and in my eyes this is the way it should be and we are all OK with things now. I can not picture our family without baby Hannah and she is the apple of our eyes. By the way, thank you so much for the video you sent me. I have never seen it before and it rings so true of what we went through. Thank you and take care, Kellen
I have forwarded your Asking for Help blog to a very dear friend who is having problems with her teenager.
I am also sending her your book.
Thank you Katrina.
So simple and yet so true. Thanks for making me feel not so alone..thanks.
"And being the best parent I can be now means remembering that how they each "turn out" isn’t up to me and my husband anymore. It’s up to them."
I’m going to post this in his baby book so when I get the urge to "mommy" him, I’ll remember to "mother" him.
Katrina, you are an inspiration. As a parent of 23,21,29 and 12, the hardest thing I find is letting them go to explore and learn on their own. I have done my time to guide them and help them build a foundation. However I now listen to them, hear their learnings, but quietly sit back and try not to interfere as they learn to fly on their own. I have a daughter, post -graduate, trying to establish as a youth counsellor; a 21 year old son a college junior fiercely independent, a 19 year old daughter living on her own trying to figure it all out…and a 12 year old son, fiercely independent who misses all of them so much…and who accuses us of giving up on parenting with him. …and being too relaxed….and then I watch the news of Haiti, and am blessed for al the ordinary days I have enjoyed
Thank you for your book and your advice. We are living through some rough years with a 17, 15 and 12 year old. Our once perfect life isn’t so perfect now. Being a mother is all I ever wanted to be. I enjoyed every second of my boys’ lives and then my middle son became a teenager! The teenage years are harder than I ever could have imagined. Your book brought me back from the cliff. Thank you.
Stumbled on you via Life in Pencil. This post was beautiful. My kids are still small, but my stepson is entering that age where he is more and more responsible for his own choices/future. While it’s somewhat of a relief to relinquish the steering wheel, it’s also a little terrifying. For exactly the same reason.