I have a daughter, teetering on the edge of teenage hood. It is an interesting transition. Yesterday, quite out of character (or perhaps, very “in character” for the age), she declared that she hated everyone, wanted to run away, and couldn’t understand why she felt that way.
Luckily for me, I wasn’t the ‘bad guy’ for a change. Poor Daddy and younger sister were the culprits. So, of course, needing someone in her corner, she came to me. I am so glad she did. Distant as the memories of my own traumatic (!!) evolution to the teens were, I could sympathise.
I recall my mother asking vainly, “What happened to my sweet girl?” Well, she was effectively replaced by a monster for the next few years.
To my own daughter, I gently explained, “Sweetheart, these are your hormones playing up. You are going to feel this way a lot. When you do, rather than throw things, or slam stuff, go into your room. Breathe deeply, listen to music, text your friends (also similarly alienated), and just ride it out.”
To my totally astonished husband I said, “Darling, it may soon be your turn to be the good cop. So, let her take her time, apologise for shouting at her, and take heed. This is not a five year old. This is an angst-ridden almost teen.”
As for me, I hugged my nine year old close, and vowed to enjoy her pre teen innocence and simplicity. Another few years, and no doubt, a new drama will begin.