What if your teen doesn’t fit the mold and never will?

When my son was in second grade, his teacher told us, “He’s having trouble meeting the expectations.”
And just like that, we started searching for how to fix him.

We hired tutors, met with specialists, tried everything to help him fit in.

Looking back, I see how much time I spent trying to shape him into the kind of kid the world rewards.
Good grades. Friends. Sports. All the boxes checked.

But all of that sent a quieter message:
You're not enough the way you are.

So when he acted out—or shut down—I focused on stopping the behavior.
Punishments. Lectures. Consequences.
Not once did I pause to ask why.

For a while, things felt manageable. Then high school hit.

The combination of school pressure and my growing panic
created a kind of perfect storm.

There was a moment in 9th grade when he trusted me with something vulnerable.
I shared it, thinking I was “helping.”
It backfired.
And just like that, the door between us closed.

He pulled away. First, hours alone in his room. Then, gone for hours and I had no idea where he was.
I was scared.

So I tried harder. Controlled more.
Hoping I could somehow pull him back to me.
All it did was push him further away.

It wasn’t until the beginning of senior year that I finally saw it clearly:
The problem wasn’t him.
The problem was how I was showing up.

I had spent so much time trying to make him do things,
I hadn’t noticed how much I was driven by fear,
and how that fear sounded a lot like anger, sarcasm, or silence.

So I started learning a different way.
Not a script or a magic formula,
but actual tools to stay calm when everything inside me wanted to react.
To listen without my fear doing the talking.
To hold boundaries without letting panic run the show.

And slowly, everything began to change.

The arguments quieted.
My shoulders softened.
Our home felt less like a war zone and more like a place we could both exhale.

I still had expectations. But instead of second-guessing myself and panicking every time something felt off,
I started showing up as the calm, grounded parent he needed.

He’s still figuring life out.
And some days, it takes everything in me not to jump in and fix it.
But I don’t live in that second-guessing panic anymore.

Because I trust myself.
And I trust our relationship.

It’s not perfect, but it’s real.
He calls when he needs me. He shares what matters.
And when he makes choices I don’t understand, I can stay present instead of spiraling.

If you’re in the thick of it right now, I want you to hear this:

You’re not a bad parent. You’re a good parent in a tough moment.
Nothing is wrong with your child. They’re still figuring out how to be in the world.

And the connection you want—it’s still possible.
And it doesn't start with fixing them.
It starts with you. 🧡

I'm sharing this story because I know how isolating it feels when nothing seems to work.
If you're ready for a different way forward, I'm here.

Warmly,
Jeanine