parenting

12 Ways for Parents to Effectively Manage the Top Teen Mental Health Concerns

Here are today’s most searched mental health questions surrounding teens, and how to help

Mental health issues can make teens feel vastly different than their peers. And not in a cool way, like having a cloak of invisibility or being able to down an extra-large pizza in one sitting; rather, having the powers of hypervigilance and social awkwardness. Sadly, they can let such disorders steer them through most life decisions. Left untethered, things like anxiety and depression will drive every choice and action they take.

Signs of a mental health condition

The signs of a mental health disorder will differ from person to person but can include any of the following: mood changes; irritability; loss of concentration; withdrawal from friends and social engagements; irrational or hostile behaviors; poor hygiene and lack of self-care; changes in diet; and changes in sleep patterns. There are common factors that can worsen mental health disorders such as not adhering to medication protocols, drug and alcohol abuse, lack of sleep, loneliness, health issues, and academic stress.

Paradoxically, mental health disorders such as anxiety and depression have been linked to early drug use. Many people with anxiety try to make themselves feel better with drugs or alcohol. And teen users are at significantly higher risk of developing an addictive disorder compared to adults, and the earlier they begin using, the higher their risk. Being aware of your teen’s predisposition for substance use and abuse, can head off budding disaster.

What can parents do?

As parents, we tend to jump in with advice to fix problems or place blame. But doing so can make teens less likely to be open in the future. You want to make it emotionally safe and easy for them to approach you. Never forget you’re the most important role model and influencer your kids have.

Start with the following teen mental health triage tactics:

1. Never in the history of calming down has anyone calmed down by being told to calm down.

Instead, ask if they want you to respond when they come to you with problems, or if they just want you to listen. What works isn’t telling a teen to calm down; it’s empathy and diplomacy.

2. Parenting is an army of one – two if you’re lucky.

Pay close attention to your child’s symptoms and what they might be telling you, while not discounting their feelings. Remind your teen that this is what they’re feeling and not who they are. Keep in mind that mental health issues are not an indicator of poor parenting! Try to keep your fears to yourself and present a positive – or at least neutral – assessment and attitude of the situation.

3. Make a plan – hope is not a strategy.

After asking them to share their worries and distresses, prompt them to problem solve what is causing them distress and help them develop an actionable plan to counter their distress. Once you have implemented some of the aforementioned, keep the momentum! Only through repetition of techniques will your child learn to counter and manage future distressing episodes.

4. This is how you role … model.

Model positive behavior and good self-care. If you take of yourself, your teen will learn that self-care is important. Promote good sleep practices. A lack of sleep alone can compromise mental health. Help them get into a routine that prepares them for relaxation. This can include reading, simple meditative breathing exercises, or guided meditations. Get to bed early and at the same time each night. And, turn off the electronics to turn off their brain.

5. A great parent shows a kid where they don’t want to be but need to be.

Teach your teen to have a productivity goal (something from a “To-Do” list) and a pleasure goal (something from a “Fun-To-Do” list) each day. Then review these goals the following day when setting the new goals.

6. Mindfulness is never asking, “Are we there yet?”

Guide your teen to stay grounded in the present. Depression is rooted in the past, and anxiety in future thinking. If their anxiety spikes, try 4x4x4 breathing (breathe in for 4 seconds, exhale for 4 seconds, and do this 4 times).

7. Penny for your lack of thoughts?

Prompt them to channel nervous energy into something creative. Coach them to continually monitor their thoughts and dispute any that are negative, while citing three things (no more and no less) for which you are both grateful each day, no matter how small.

8. Show them how to live in opposite world.

Have them practice opposite action. In other words, regularly counter what anxiety or depression is prompting them to do. If depression wants them to watch “Riverdale” marathons from the couch, get them on a hike or nature walk. If social anxiety has them avoiding human contact, reward them to attend a social function.

9. But, first … a selfie.

Limit their time spent on social media. Consider offering your teen specific alternatives to daily social media use that include school or community-based sports, academic or social clubs, pursuit of creative or artistic interests, and even volunteering (start here: JustServe.org).

10. Render your teen powerful.

Remind your teen that they’re resilient and competent. Because they’re so focused in the moment, adolescents have trouble seeing they can play a part in changing bad situations. Reminding them of instances in the past they thought would be devastating but turned out for the best can help.

11. (A)ction + (B)ad Idea = (C)onsequences.

Help your teen link impulsive thinking with facts by reviewing with them all possible costs of their actions – especially those related to self-harm or suicide. Doing so helps their brains create these connections and can wire their brains to make this link more often. Seriously. This one is vital.

12. Show no interest, and they’ll show no effort.

Become familiar with things that are important to your teen. It doesn’t mean #hashtagging your bubble tea pics on IG, or sidewalk camping in January for BTS tix, but showing an interest in things they like expresses they’re important to you.

An Important Note About When to Seek Outside Help:

It’s normal for a teen to be down or sullen for two or three days. But, if you see notable mood or behavioral changes lasting more than a week, it could indicate something else is occurring, such as depression. In such cases, promptly seek professional treatment for your child.

Sources: Google Analytics, May 2019

Birthed or Bought: A lesser-known Mother’s Day perspective

Mother’s Day and Father’s Day for the adopted individual can feel more substantial than for the average accidentally conceived “John” or “Jane.” I don’t purchase many big-ticket items – and, never do I buy things site unseen. So, the premise of procuring a little person this way makes my head spin.

Returning from visiting my mom in the hospital this week afforded me some inescapable solace during the long drive home. I pondered the time I’ve had with her, and was overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude. As an adopted adult, I know full well the dedication, sacrifice, and momentary lapse of reason that goes into adopting a lonely, disgruntled, orphan child. For the prospective adoptive parent, the want of child must far exceed the desire for money, time, peace, and sanity. It’s the kind of love that transcends modern logic. Adopting anything is a crapshoot at best, and one fraught with a million unknowns. “Will he love us back?” “Will he grow-up normal?” “Does he carry communicable diseases?” “Will we regret the decision for eternity?” “Why is he so miserable?” “Will he hit us with a bag of hammers in our sleep?”

To keep the orphanage inventory moving, I believe there involves some crafty salesmanship on behalf of the adoption agency, along with a robust “No Refunds/No Returns” policy. Make no mistake, this is nothing like buying a car or Floridian timeshare that you can offload once bored or fiscally upside down. This is an all-encompassing, point-of-no-return, life altering commitment. I once adopted a hermit crab, named “Herbie,” from a Petco pet store, and had to sign a declaration that I would protect and care for the little crustacean to the best of my ability for the duration of its natural life. Had I known that hermit crabs can live 12 – 15 years, I would not have entered into such a pact, and left the unaffectionate ‘lil guy on the checkout counter while sprinting away, elated that I had shirked the responsibility of regular salt baths, twice daily warm water misting, and constant humidifier monitoring.

I cannot imagine signing on the dotted line for an actual child – or just how many signatures such a covenant requires. I was never privy to the documentation regarding my purchase. My parents could have chosen the simpler, semi-vogue option of an exotic, foreign child. Instead, they opted for the multi-year bureaucratic stall and emotional investment of a good ‘ole domestic towheaded kid, homegrown here in the U.S.A. Perhaps they didn’t want to pay shipping.

An often unrecognized advantage to an adoptee is the notion of “family.” When you are not adopted and decide to banish a sleazy family member, that person forever remains flesh and blood. Sadly, there is no knocking anyone out of the family tree. But for an adoptee, things are much more loosely defined. The adopted individual can simply choose whomever he/she wants to be “related” to within the family org chart. I find myself exceedingly proud to be related to some extended family members, while I relegate others to the “acquaintance” pool.

I have successfully dodged these individuals at WalMart, BBQs, and weddings. I simply deny all pseudo genealogical ties, and remind them, “It’s nothing personal – I am adopted, after all.” It also comes in handy in the instance of a really hot second or third cousin – though, society frowns upon such unions. On the flip side, never seeing an actual blood relative is a reverse mindbender. The realization that I’m as related to my own mother as the Easter Bunny is unsettling at times.

Each time I see my parents, I notice questionable habits they’ve developed since retiring and facing the sudden influx of time. One of my father’s most perplexing habits that I failed to notice until his 70’s, is the rampant use of cruise control in his Lincoln sedan at inappropriate times. My dad would use cruise control to parallel park if it were possible. He can occasionally be seen on California’s crowded highways, speed locked at 70 mph, dodging between moving cars like a game of “Frogger,” while seeking the next open space to navigate his 8-foot American-made steel hood, never allowing himself to touch the brake pedal or cruise control “pause” and “resume” switch. When I asked him “Why, Dad? WHY?” he retorted, “It saves gas!” Growing up, I just assumed he was a lazy driver. But, a cost-cutting measure?

Another interesting characteristic of my dad that seemed typical until I was an adult is his anxious hoarding. He rarely parts with, or discards anything. If the family wants something gone, it must be covertly disassembled, stealthily removed from the house under the cover of night, and buried under the existing garbage in the outside trash bin. It’s best to do this the evening before trash pick-up, at the risk he has time to sort through the garbage to ensure nothing has been thrown-out of potential value. Otherwise, he will remove the object from the trash unbeknownst to us, and it will be cleaned, reassembled, and placed in it’s original location. Over the years, he has slowly turned his home into a 2,300 sq. ft. museum of absurdity. He is cognizant enough to know this, which is why he has compartmentalized his house. Certain doors, closets, and rooms are locked, never to be opened except by him when no one is around. Behind these entryways are troves of random electrical gadgetry and worthless relics from yesteryear.

Nearly everything my dad squirreled away in his garage is rummage – with the exception of a 1941 Ford Coupe. In the trunk of this classic he locked away all contraband confiscated from my brother and me in our youth. Old Playboy Magazines we stole from under the bed of our perverted neighbor, a wrist-rocket slingshot, a homemade crossbow, pellet guns, Chinese throwing stars and knives (I was a self-taught, white Ninja), and an assortment of other illicit material coveted by prepubescent boys. Since my dad is the craftiest man around, he has an impressive collection of tools. Not once did we have a repairman at the house, and he was known as “MacGyver” throughout our neighborhood. The drawback was that I never got anything new. Everything we owned was of industrial grade from Sears or affixed with a “Craftsman” label. If something did break, dad would quickly fix it and we’d be on our way.

This went for clothing as well, as my mom had the skills of a commercial seamstress. My pants and shirts all consisted of the “Toughskins” clothing line from Sears. This was clothing made from the weather resistant wool of wild Himalayan Mountain Yaks. If I was somehow able to tear something, my mom would sew it back together using grit and 50lb. test fishing line – also from Sears. She went so far as to sew actual pockets from the rear of retired jeans on the knees of all my Toughskin pants so I had little chance of tearing them. No matter how rough and tumble I tried to act as a boy, I could never be taken seriously with patch-worked clown pants.

I am my parents’ son – adopted, or not. Though I have gleaned neither my dad’s penchant for cruise control; nor my mom’s resolve, grace, and strength as she fights stage IV cancer, I see many other characteristics from my parents in the mannerisms of both my brother and me. I could not possibly love two humans more. When I paused for a moment and looked at her this past week, I could see the age in her comforting face. I knew I had much to do with it, and wondered why they ever took on the challenge of my brother and me. And though they may seem increasingly bonkers as they age, given the choice, I’d choose them every time. I wonder if “Herbie” the crab feels the same way.

Sibling Smackdown: Anxiety Doesn’t Fall Far From the Tree

Despite a loving, generally happy home, my brother, Jeff, and I took “sibling rivalry” to a dark and desperate level. It was a class of anarchy like no other, and it drove my mom to counseling, and my dad to a dive bar in San Jose, called The Office, regularly after work. The turmoil began the day I was adopted at a year old from the Children’s Home Society of Oakland, CA in a svelte 1967 Pontiac station wagon, by an educated, young man and a petite woman with a bouffant hairdo. I believe it was aptly named a “beehive” back then, and was typically accompanied by hip, black, pointy glasses. Upon arrival home, I was stalked about the premises by my brother, Jeff (also adopted). As a toddler, my only hobby was annoying the piss out of Jeff. I had no reason, but hobbies are like that. I was only too eager to kick down, or otherwise destroy, his latest LEGO or Lincoln Log engineering marvels, and he soon lost all patience while harboring some ill-will toward his shelter-baby brother. [Read more…] about Sibling Smackdown: Anxiety Doesn’t Fall Far From the Tree