THOUGHTS MOMS PARENTING TEENS AND ADULT KIDS ARE ASHAMED THEY THINK—“MY KID THINKS I'M THE PROBLEM” | EP. 200
Welcome to the Almost Empty Nest Podcast, where we moms of teens and college kids reframe what letting go really means to feel more connected, confident, and at peace. I'm your host, Master Coach Jennifer Collins.
Have you ever had a thought as a mom and then immediately felt terrible for thinking it? Believe me, you're not alone, and you're truly not a bad mom for thinking it. In this series on the thoughts us moms are ashamed we think, I'm exploring these thoughts and where they're coming from.
Because when you shift from judgment to understanding, that's when everything changes. Let's dive in.
Hello, my friend.
I remember so clearly that moment when I looked into my son's eyes and I saw reflected in them something that looked almost like disgust. Like he couldn't believe that I had done what, in his mind, he thought I'd done. I remember feeling like someone had punched me in the gut.
Because in my heart, I truly didn't think I'd done anything wrong. In fact, I actually thought that I'd been doing everything in my power to love and support my son. That was it.
I had no ulterior motives. I wasn't trying to control him. I wasn't trying to be mean or judgmental.
And I certainly wasn't trying to make him or anyone else feel anything other than welcomed and supported, absolutely knowing that I was on their team. And yet what I saw in my son's eyes was a picture of how I'd gotten it all wrong and how he believed without question that I was at fault. I talk a lot on this podcast about your lens, the lens through which you see the reality of your life, and how it's that lens that creates your emotional experience.
One thing you could take away from that comment is that what I'm saying is that you're just thinking about the situation all wrong. You know, if you could just get a better perspective, then maybe you could feel better. And sure, if you want to oversimplify mindset work, that's one way you can look at it.
You can always try to look at things differently and try to create a different emotion or result. The problem is, you actually have to believe what you're thinking about the situation. You have to believe that new thought or new perspective.
Because if you don't, your brain's just going to call BS. And let's face it, when you're looking at a situation where the facts all point to your kid looking at you and thinking, You're the problem. And you're not just making this up.
This is something they've actually said to you. That's a hard place to be. Maybe they've said something like, Mom, this is all your fault.
Or you never should have done that. Or you made me feel like this, like a failure, like I can't do this. Our kids also love to tell us that we're trying to control them or their lives.
They'll point out something that we're doing and we'll say, You always do this. As if it's proof that we not only get it wrong, but that we always get it wrong. Our kids say these things to us and it's really hard not to hear those words and take a hard look at whether or not they reflect the truth.
In my case, my gut instinct was to disagree. Because I knew in my heart what my son was accusing me of doing was something I had never intentionally done. In fact, it couldn't have been further from the truth.
And yet he had interpreted my actions because of a series of events in a way that for him reflected a huge failing on my part. And you might find this funny, but at the time, I tried to use my coaching tools to demonstrate to my son that while I understood he was interpreting the situation this way, that this didn't reflect reality. It was just his perception of reality.
Well, as you can imagine, that went over like a lead balloon. You can't coach someone who doesn't want to be coached. He saw what I was doing as trying to invalidate how he felt.
But what I really wanted him to see was while his feelings were certainly valid, I hadn't intended to do any of the things he was accusing me of. It's an interesting question, right? If someone feels a certain way and they blame you for it, yet you've done nothing intentionally wrong. You can certainly apologize for the misunderstanding and take accountability for that part.
But at the heart of it, at least in my situation, I couldn't reconcile who my son was interpreting me to be with who I knew myself to be. That mom who just wanted to love and support and look out for her son. Have you ever felt that way? Like you're trying your absolute best and yet what you see reflected back from your kid's perspective suggests that they don't see it that way.
That they're focused on all the ways what you've done is wrong or ineffective or even hurtful. And this isn't at all how you see it. That this is actually the opposite of what you intended.
The worst part of it is it can feel impossible in these moments to change your kid's mind. Then there's another scenario that comes up so often with my clients. That their kids will say something like this, pointing out how we failed them or what we always do wrong.
And we can't help but take that criticism to heart. We feel the sense of shame and guilt because let's face it, all of us moms have that underlying fear that we're going to mess this up. It's that place in your heart you're so afraid to go that maybe despite all of your best efforts and your love and your intention, maybe you did get it wrong.
I'll be honest, there was also a part of me that felt that way with my son. And actually it got even worse because in an effort to try to figure out how I could support him better, I went looking for resources that seemed to reinforce that I was the problem. One of the first places I turned was therapy.
I thought maybe my son could benefit from talking to someone else, ideally a therapist, since he wasn't talking to me. So I started interviewing people, trying to find someone he could connect with. What was so interesting was that in one conversation with the therapist, someone who came highly recommended to me, I shared the details about what was going on with my son.
And during the conversation, this therapist said to me, your son's trying really hard to break away from you. Maybe it was the context because it came after a series of questions about how I'd been raised and how I'd parented my son when he was younger. Or maybe it was just where my head was at.
But I interpreted what she said to mean that I had, in fact, done something wrong. It was fascinating. Here I had my son telling me I was at fault.
And now it felt like the therapist was suggesting the same thing, that my parenting had somehow caused the situation. In retrospect, maybe what she meant was simply that my son was trying to figure out who he was, to create some space and find a little independence. And that it actually had very little to do with me at all.
But it's hard to make that leap of faith, isn't it? It's hard to believe that our kids' struggles, especially the way they push against us, that it isn't about us. That when they say, you're the problem, it's not evidence of our failure. That's why I want to talk about this thought that my team thinks I'm the problem.
Because it's really hard to have that thought and not feel a deep sense of failure and shame. Like, how did I let this happen? How did we get here? And this is exactly how I felt. Confused, hurt, ashamed.
And on top of that, I felt angry and misunderstood. I felt anxious to fix the situation. All of these emotions were tangled up for me together in this big, heavy black ball in my mind.
On the one hand, my instinct to try to fix the situation was to try to help him see how much I was trying. How I didn't mean to hurt him. And how my intentions were good.
So I apologized, and I kept trying to get him to talk about it. But I also kept trying to get him to see how he was wrong. At the same time, I was frustrated.
I didn't like the way he was acting. It truly felt like he thought I'd messed up. And it's like, I didn't get any credit for all of the years of raising him where he didn't seem to have that impression of me in the past.
Like, you used to love me and think I was a great mom. How did we hit this patch where it's like all of that was erased? Actually, I was beyond frustrated. I was hurt and angry.
And because the situation lasted for quite a while and didn't seem to be getting any better, in fact, over time, it only got worse, I began to feel incredibly anxious. It felt like something between us had broken and that I'd never be able to fix it. I started to believe this rift was permanent.
Here we were a year away from him going to college and I felt this desperate need to fix the situation before he left. Because then what would happen? Would I just lose him? Have to watch him drift away even further? When you're in that place with your kid, trying so hard to do your best, but nothing seems to work, you can start to feel like you're walking on eggshells. You treat every interaction like you're holding this fragile, priceless Fabergé egg that you can't drop.
You want so badly to get it right, you lose confidence that you even know how anymore. I would feel this sense of dread before every conversation with him because I wasn't sure how it was going to go. Or maybe even worse, I was fairly certain I knew how it was going to go and it wasn't going to be good.
You're trying so hard to do it right and yet somehow it keeps going wrong. So you're stuck in this pain of not being able to fix the situation. My teen thinks I'm the problem.
So how could this possibly be a mindset trap? Because when someone else says you're the problem, especially if it's your own kid, it doesn't feel like it's something made up in our heads. It feels true. In fact, it is true.
This is what they think. But here's the thing, even when it's their truth, we as moms have to decide what we're going to make it mean about us. Here's what I've come to understand.
And honestly, this is something I really had to grapple with in my own experience with my son. Your teen might genuinely feel that way right now, that you're the problem. To them, it feels true.
They're having their own experience of what's happened between you and in your relationship with them. And of course, you're having your own experience as well. You know what you intended, what you meant to do or convey, or how you meant to support your kid, how much you care.
But what's fascinating is that those two experiences, both yours and theirs, can exist at the same time and they can be completely different. This is because every relationship is really made up of a series of thoughts that each one of us has about the other person. We like to think that relationships are a two-way street.
But in fact, your relationship with your teen is defined by how you think about them, what you believe about who they are and what kind of connection you think you have with them. And their relationship with you lives in their mind, in what they think and feel about you. When you really let that sink in, it explains a lot.
Because you can love your child deeply and have nothing but good intentions. And they can still see you as the bad guy. Because what they're experiencing isn't you, it's their thoughts about you.
This is what makes our relationships with our teens so complicated. And honestly, this is true in any relationship, but I think it's particularly difficult as we raise our kids. In any relationship, there's your truth and there's their truth.
And both are colored by how each of us is thinking and feeling about the other person in that moment. And when those two experiences don't match up, it's easy for both people to feel in pain. Because both of you are feeling misunderstood and unseen.
Sometimes when our kids are saying things like, you're the problem, or you're always on my case, it hurts because it feels unfair. But also because somewhere, in some way, part of it might hold a little truth. And I want to be clear here, that doesn't mean your teen is right and you're wrong.
Their words and their actions are about them. Their frustration and stress, or whatever's going on for them in that moment. They're responding to whatever you're doing through that lens, whatever's true for them right now.
But here's what's really powerful to see, and also the hardest part to admit. Sometimes what they say hits a little too deeply because there's a part of it that's also true for us. Maybe you are on their case.
Not because you want to nag them, but because you're anxious. You're scared for them. You care so much, and that caring sometimes comes across as control.
For me, when my son told me what I'd done wrong, I was frustrated because my immediate reaction was that he was wrong. But as I got really honest with myself, I could see what he meant. I didn't want to admit it at first, but I was so focused on what I wanted.
I wasn't holding any space for what he wanted. I wasn't trying to be a bulldozer and have things be my way. Because honestly, I saw my way as in his best interest.
But when it came down to it, I was also trying to control the situation. And the impact of that had consequences that I had not intended at all. It's a really uncomfortable place to be.
That space where both things can feel true. That they're wrong about me, but also there's something here that I might need to look at. Our instinct is to defend ourselves, to explain and to justify and to prove our intentions.
But when you can stop long enough to get curious, to maybe try to see what they see, to be willing to question whether or not there might be a tiny grain of truth to what they're saying, it is surprisingly humbling. When you can see both their truth and your truth, you move out of the fight and into a deeper understanding of the situation. When I finally stopped trying to convince my son that I wasn't the problem, when I stopped arguing with his version of the story, I realized that I didn't actually need to win the argument.
What I really wanted was to feel connected with my son. And that connection wasn't going to come from trying to force him to understand that I didn't mean to hurt him. It had to come from me being willing to see his pain, even when I didn't agree with it or understand the story he was telling about it.
Because the truth is, when we're in conflict with someone we love, especially with our kids, we want to feel understood. We want to feel seen for who we really are. But in those moments, our teens want the same thing.
When I finally stopped trying to correct his perception and instead started trying to understand it, that's when we started the process of healing what felt broken between us. Even though I couldn't read his mind, he had told me enough about what he was thinking or feeling that when I put down my defenses and stopped being caught up in my own hurt and resentment, I could see his perspective. He was trying to find his independence and I was trying desperately to keep my connection with him.
And I realized those two things didn't have to be at odds with each other. The truth was, what my son was doing wasn't actually about me. He wasn't rejecting me.
He was separating from me. He was trying to figure out who he is without me. And that process can look messy.
Our kids are truly wired to push against us as they grow up. It's how they learn how they can have their own thoughts and their own opinions and their own identity. And even though it feels like they're pushing us away, what they're really pushing against is the version of themselves they used to be.
The one that relied on us for everything. The irony of this, of course, is that this ability for them to push away is actually something that we helped them create through our love and through our presence. That's what's made it safe for them to rebel against us.
They trust that they can fight with us and we'll still be here. So when your teen looks at you like you're the problem, I want you to imagine that what they're really saying is, I need to believe I'm my own person right now. Maybe this isn't an indictment of your parenting, but proof that you did your job.
I know that doesn't make it any less painful, but maybe it can help you see that this isn't about you. It's simply an invitation to see that your relationship is evolving. My friend, if your big kid really does think you're the problem right now, maybe you don't have to fix their perception to find peace.
You just have to remember who you are. The mom who loves her kid and is learning to grow alongside of them. That's the work of becoming that next version of yourself as a mom.
And that version of you already exists inside of you. She just might be buried under a lot of hurt and frustration and worry. In my coaching program, Mom 2.0, we uncover this version of you so that you can stop walking on eggshells and create the kind of relationship with your kid that doesn't depend on them changing first.
So if this sounds like exactly what you need, I'd love for you to join me. You can learn more through the link in the show notes. Because you, my friend, are not the problem.
And maybe what you need to do is to stop trying so hard to convince your kid that this is true. But simply hold space for the possibility that your big kid is just trying really hard to find their own way. Even if it means pushing you away for a little while.
Because sometimes love isn't about being understood by your kid. It's about keeping the light on as they find their way back to you. Until next time.
If you enjoyed this episode, I'd love for you to check out my next free masterclass, there's a link in the show notes. You have more power than you think, my friend.
