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Parenting
The Challenge of Feeling Dismissed by Your Teenager
by Dr. Marie Thompson
Oct. 25, 2023
I gently tap on the half-open door before stepping inside. My teenage son, Jake, is sprawled on his bed, his laptop glowing in front of him while indie music plays softly from the speaker. I can’t quite tell if he’s tackling homework, browsing for sneakers, or chatting with friends. Most likely, all three.
“Hey there, champ,” I say, taking a seat on the edge of his desk. He glances up briefly, raises his eyebrows, and then returns to whatever digital task has captured his attention.
I don’t have any urgent news, and he’s not initiating any conversation. The silence stretches on awkwardly. It’s evident he’d rather be alone, but I’m determined to stay until we engage.
“How’s school treating you?” I venture. More silence.
“Mom,” he finally replies with a dramatic sigh, “it’s fine.”
I wait, hoping for that familiar grin or a hint of enthusiasm, but it never comes.
“Alright then… great,” I respond, feeling somewhat lost. “Dinner’s in ten.”
As I rise to leave, I let out an exaggerated sigh. Only then does he look up, rolling his eyes at me as if I’m the most embarrassing person in the world. I attempt to mirror his eye roll, pretending it doesn’t sting. In truth, it feels like being brushed aside by someone who used to be my closest ally.
Despite what parenting literature suggests about the natural distance that grows during adolescence, the feeling of being excluded is disheartening. Disconnecting from your child, regardless of their age, can be profoundly unsettling.
I don’t expect to be privy to every detail of my son’s life — I’m not aware of everything that transpires at school, for instance — but it’s disheartening when I sense he’s holding back his emotions and thoughts. This often occurs more with my teenage son, while my pre-teen daughter, Mia, is also carving out her independence, often following Jake’s lead.
The logical part of me understands that I’m no longer their primary source for inside jokes, advice, or even daily updates. That coveted role now belongs to their friends. I only hear about the serious stuff, like the stress of exams or the frustration of a bad hair day.
Occasionally, Jake will make a vague comment about his day, declaring it “good.” When I ask for more details, he’s quick to shut me down, revealing my desperation to connect. I’ve learned to play it cool, even as I ache for deeper conversations.
My anxious parent side worries that there might be more than just a desire for independence behind his aloofness. What if he’s feeling overwhelmed or facing challenges that he’s too embarrassed to share? Is he struggling academically? Is he feeling isolated?
We generally get along well, and there’s a lot of affection between us. I reassure him that he can always talk to me without fear of judgment, that I can still be useful — even if I currently hold the “uncool mom” title.
Reflecting on my own past, I remember having a secret life during my teenage years. It began innocently enough, with me and my best friend wandering around town after school, spotting high schoolers hanging out or attending parties in dimly lit basements. When my mother inquired about my day, I would simply say, “Fine,” keeping the juicy details to myself. Navigating life without adult supervision felt important and liberating.
I want the same for Jake and Mia, but I also miss our close connection. I know that bombarding them with questions usually leads to short responses. I crave the deeper stuff: their feelings, hopes, and worries.
My newest approach is to remain available when they choose to connect. I spend my late afternoons in the kitchen, cooking and making noise, signaling my presence. It’s a challenge waiting for them to come to me, but occasionally, it pays off.
Recently, Jake came home wearing a new hoodie. When I asked about it, he turned a bit red and mentioned it belonged to a friend. I smiled and stayed quiet, allowing him to fill the silence. Instead of retreating to his room, he sat down at the counter and shared the story behind the hoodie. I chopped vegetables and listened, grateful for those few moments of connection.
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In summary, the process of engaging with older children during adolescence can be challenging as they seek independence. It’s essential to strike a balance between giving them space and being available for meaningful conversations.