(Step) Parenting Difficult Teens — An Insider's Take
Parenting is a challenge under the best of conditions. This is especially true with strong-willed teens. Add to this the ignominious prefix of “step” and these challenges increase substantially. How does the new step-parent navigate this situation effectively?
I was a challenging teen myself. And I was also a “step.” As I’ve talked with parents over the years, I’ve revisited those days and have shared my experiences. But unlike during my teen years where it was almost impossible to put words to my experience, I’m a little better equipped to do that now.
Just for fun, I thought I’d step back in time and try to express what was then inexpressible—that ever-present whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that were constantly with me as I navigated the new normal in my family life. If I could have addressed parents as that difficult teen, here’s what I might have said…
Hello! I’m the sometimes-cheery, sometimes dark, but always happily-cynical teen you’ve acquired in your merger with my real parent. We’ve been in this new situation for a while now and I’ve been mostly compliant—up to now. The honeymoon is over, my true colors are beginning to show, and I can tell you’re not sure what to do. Don’t despair! There’s a reason I’m this way and there’s an even greater reason to hope. Even so, this project of step-parenting will require more from you than you might have first realized…but you can do it.
You see, I’m still reeling from this new reality that we call a ‘blended’ family and what it means for me. And though I barely understand it, I feel this change in profound ways. I’m only a teen, of course, and so I don’t yet have the ability to express this in a way you can understand. Even so, here are a few things I want you to know…
Don’t expect me to like you
But I can respect you. The difference is crucial. I tend to like those with whom I share things in common: friends, fads, clothing, music, sports, drama, and so on. These are the people I naturally identify with and though these bonds can be a little shallow, they reflect where I’m at as an adolescent.
Respect is something different. I can’t help but respect those who I sense are legit—whether or not we have much in common. Here’s what I mean: these are the people who mean what they say and (more importantly) say what they mean; they take themselves seriously, but not too much. They easily laugh at themselves and don’t mind when others join in. They’re slow to feel threatened or offended. They pay more attention to how they live their own lives than how others live theirs. They’re quick to admit their faults and patient with those who don’t. They manage their emotions well and refuse to get embroiled in the drama around them. They’re driven, purposeful individuals yet know how to relax and have fun at the same time. They’re quietly confident and know how to encourage others to be the best they can be.
I trust you get the picture. I feel these qualities in others even if I can’t describe them. As I mature during my adolescent years I’m becoming increasingly aware of the shortcomings and inconsistencies in the people around me. Yet when I see someone rise above the level of the herd in this way, respect simply happens and I won’t be able to stop it.
So please don’t try too hard to get me to like you by adopting my music, style, vocabulary, and so on. I appreciate the effort but at the same time you’re not a teen and such crafted attempts often end in awkwardness for all parties involved. Just be your strong, authentic self, and I will respect you and what’s important to you. How we’re different won’t really matter that much. Remember, like is thin, respect is thick. If I respect you, I’ll probably like you soon enough.
I’m watching you
Yes, I know, the experts tell you that I’m insulated from the real world, lost in my own oblivion of earbuds, iPhones, and Facebook. That’s only half true. I’m totally plugged-in, for sure, but I’m also very aware.
I see how you treat my real parent. When you wrestle with my little brother and make him laugh, you win points with me. I even notice how you talk on the phone with your friends and how you respond to the guy at the front door trying to sell you gutter cleaning. I see how you handle your own life and whether it’s consistent with what you say you believe. I see whether you live by your impulses (…like me and my friends) or whether you’re grounded and guided by something deeper. It’s more obvious than you might think.
But even more important than what you do is how you are. It’s not difficult to see when someone isn’t comfortable in their own skin or when they bring anxiety to everything they touch. Or, when someone tries to do “the right thing,” not because it’s natural to them but because they’ve got in their mind some formula on “how to be a good parent” — as if they’re following a recipe for tuna casserole. You’d be surprised at the things I notice about you.
So, don’t worry too much about how you relate to me. I see how you relate to everything else in your life and that tells me most of what I need to know. And though I may not get all excited when you walk into the room, that doesn’t mean you don’t have influence with me. In fact, you probably have much more than even I’m aware of.
Rise above my emotions
Remember our ‘chat’ last week, the one where I gently reminded you that “YOU’RE NOT MY REAL PARENT!”? I could sense in that moment that you were tempted to match my emotional rant with one of your own.
But you didn’t.
Instead, you stayed composed and patiently waited for me to calm down. You made it clear in a gentle way that you were in control of yourself and you weren’t going to let my rant change that. You then acknowledged my point of view and skillfully redirected our conversation in a more productive direction. We actually got somewhere and a train wreck was averted.
Though I’d never say this to you, it’s in moments like these that you become a true adult in my eyes. In fact, you have to know that when you respond to my immaturity like that my respect for you skyrockets. I experience a little glimmer of hope that someone out there might be big enough—strong enough—to help me master my own tumultuous inner world. You show me in that moment that I don’t have to be a slave to my emotions and can instead make a thoughtful choice that serves my greater good.
Moreover, when you show you’re above the immature ways I manage myself—undaunted in the task of being the adult in this relationship—I begin to see my own lack of maturity for what it is. Your bigness serves to highlight my smallness and in a far more effective way than pointing it out with a wagging finger or a scolding tone (I mean, really, does that ever work?). Your life speaks for itself—and my life hears it. In turn, I find myself drawn to your maturity and my trust in you grows. And as powerful as this impact is I’ll likely never tell you about it or say thank you…sorry!
Don’t be afraid of me
There are few things less attractive than an adult who hangs their self-esteem on the opinion of a teenager. Seriously. Don’t do this. I understand that life can take the wind out of your sails and that self-doubt is lurking around every corner. This is especially true with divorce.
With this new reality upon us, I need to know you’ve moved on, brought your A-game, and are ready to make this work. Go get your self-doubt figured out somewhere else. You made a decision to enter this new arrangement and now it’s time to embrace it. This means no slinking around the house in guilt and shame about what’s now in the past.
After all, there’s only room for one of us to be self-conscious and insecure, and I’ve claimed that role for the next few years. Sorry, it’s just the way it’s going to be. Know this: my world has been shaken, too, and I’m not completely sure what lies ahead. Your confidence and positive attitude will not go unnoticed and will help me to see my own future as having great potential, despite the present challenges. So, when I throw some dismissive attitude your way…DON’T flinch. Just roll with it and know it’s what I have to do every now and then for reasons even I don’t understand.
BE WARNED: If I do sense a weakness in you…watch out. Unlike some of my more compliant and sensitive teen counterparts, I don’t really care (that much) about your feelings. You’re an adult, after all, and when you don’t act like one I’m more likely to find a way to expose your weaknesses than to have compassion for them. In fact, difficult teens like myself often gladly accept the challenge of revealing the imperfections of the adults around us. Think third-grader + magnifying glass + bug on the sidewalk. You get the picture.
Be my leader, not my parent
I don’t know that I could even explain the difference between these two. All I know is parent is sacred ground and the added “step” doesn’t give you automatic entry into this hallowed role. Even so, I do need leaders in my life—adults who are willing to get into my world and help me navigate it. The biggest question I have right now (though I’m scarcely aware I’m asking it) is how do I be an adult? Not necessarily like the ones I see around me, but more like the mature, capable, confident adult that I’ve idealized myself to be.
You’d probably never know it, but I’m both excited and terrified of having to make this transition, which means you have an opportunity to make a significant impact. For example, your positive affirmation of my capabilities (no matter how obscured by my faults) will encourage me more than you will ever know…and yet avoids any connotation that you’re trying to be my parent. You’re simply being an engaged, caring adult.
I notice, too, when you show a genuine interest in my life for its own sake—not because you think you’re supposed to, or that you need to monitor my every movement, or because you want to tell me what I’m doing wrong—but just because you’d like to know me…for me. This alone is very different than how most of the adults in my life treat me.
Finally, when I see that you take what I say seriously and that my opinion counts with you, I start to take myself seriously. Your confidence in me (even if you have to fake it on occasion) serves to draw me into your adult world and when this happens, I want to respond as an adult. In time, I start to believe that in the great scheme of things, I might actually matter. And because I matter, I better act like someone who matters. In fact, there’s no greater motivation to leave behind my immature ways than the thought my life might actually count in some way. Whatever…just know that your confidence in me is contagious.
It might be helpful to think of this way of engaging me as like a Trojan Horse. When I experience your attention in this way, it only builds trust. As this trust grows I begin to discover that you’re someone I can allow into the deeper regions of my life. And you know what? In short order, you’ll begin to feel surprisingly like…wait for it…my parent. After a while, I might even treat you like one, affection and all. And though I may never call you ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’ (…though who knows?) you’ll genuinely fulfill what I need most from a parent, with or without the title.
I apologize in advance because I probably won’t thank you—and might even deflect your words as trivial. Just keep in mind that coming face-to-face with a genuinely caring human being is intimate to the point of being intimidating. You’d probably run, too.
One last thing while we’re on this topic. I need to know that you’re not threatened by my relationship with my other parent. You know, the one you replaced. It won’t be hard for me to see if you’re in a subtle competition with them for my affections. When you choose not to compete and instead support and even celebrate this other relationship, you show me something profoundly important. First, that you know I need this relationship to be as healthy as possible, both now and long into the future. Second, you demonstrate that you’re secure in yourself and are not merely concerned with beating out the competition. Again, when you demonstrate that you’re truly for me in this way—even if you don’t get to be the hero—my trust in you will only grow.
Know why I am the way I am
Families aren’t supposed to break up; adults are supposed to act like adults; kids get to act like kids. Growing up is supposed to be one part fun and one part challenge, but always safe. But this isn’t what happened and, by definition, our new arrangement isn’t how things are supposed to be. The problem is, as a maturing adolescent, I’m beginning to understand this in a way that I never could have before.
You see, when I was a kid, my sense of right and wrong was informed mostly by the authority figures around me; it was their emotional posture toward me that informed how I should be, what I should do, etc. Because of my developmental stage, I literally couldn’t see beyond this. But one of the changes I’m going through as an adolescent is that my mind is increasingly able to understand the world in terms of a larger logical order—an ideal. Along with this, I've discovered that this ideal is even bigger than the adults who once shaped my world so profoundly. This is called universalizing, and it’s an important part of my cognitive and emotional development and a necessary step in my maturation.
The problem is I’m also realizing for the first time that the world around me is far from this ideal. I’m seeing that those authority figures I naturally trusted as a kid aren’t perfect and that there isn’t always a happy ending to the story. In addition to this, I’m also seeing that I’m far from perfect (it haunts me, actually) and I don’t quite know what to do about it. This might be old news to you but you have to understand that my mind has only recently developed the capacity to comprehend this at a significant level.
I’m sensing from a place I can hardly describe that this order is really that important. It’s built into the structure of reality itself, and everything good in life hinges upon it. This should help to explain some of the temperamental behavior you’ve seen in me lately. As I grapple with this newfound awareness, I’m going to apply it to the world around me in inconsistent, small-minded, and self-serving ways. This explains, in part, why I’m argumentative and can express outrage over minor issues of injustice.
The consequence of this natural process of maturing is that I can now see that your presence in my world—as my step-parent—is evidence that things aren’t the way they’re supposed to be. Even if you’re a great person, you’re not supposed to be here, strictly speaking. So, for me and many of my challenging teen counterparts, a big part of our being difficult stems from us not knowing yet how to handle this revelation and its vast implications.
This is why I need you
It’s agreed, we’re off to a rocky start. I can tell you’re frustrated at times and don’t always know what to do. It seems you’re unsure if we can make it. And while you might question your role in my life, there’s something you absolutely must know: I need you.
You see, the very thing that makes me a difficult teenager now—that intense, yet unrefined sense of justice coupled with a less-than-rational emotional life—can serve me well as an adult, but only if they can be shaped. It takes work, but when these powers are honed, they will propel me forward in life, guide my discipline, and encourage me to be a powerful contributor to my world.
But they can also destroy me. Untempered idealism doesn’t add, it subtracts. It’s merciless in the face of a real, imperfect world and, left by itself, will become cold and unforgiving. It doesn’t look for the good but only seeks to be right. To the extent that I don’t learn to manage myself, I’ll interpret the world around me in terms of power. This turns everyone I meet into a competitor and every situation into a referendum on my sense of self-worth. My relationships will be driven by the subconscious questions of am I safe or can I win? (This alone will make it all but impossible for me to authentically love someone else.) And while I can brandish this naïve idealism now with limited impact because I’m only a teenager, the time will come when it could be catastrophic to myself and even others.
Moreover, at this point in my life I haven’t experienced much in terms of real failure (mostly it’s just my self-perception that I’m somehow not enough). In time I’ll become painfully aware of what I’m not—in very real terms. As I experience my own failures—perhaps even a divorce—I’ll have to know how to forgive myself and move on. Without this self-forgiveness, I’ll begin to detach from my own life and quietly abandon the search for what’s real and authentic. I’ll begin to blame others for my life and what I didn’t get. I’ll trade my sense of a greater purpose for an existence centered on avoiding pain. When this happens I’ll have no choice but to anesthetize myself with empty pursuits and the endless consumption of cheap goods my culture will readily provide me.
Left to my own recognizance, this is what I might become.
What I need to encounter is the possibility that there’s life on the other side of my imperfect self. I need to know that I can embrace my true self again with a renewed confidence that my life isn’t destined to fizzle into obscurity. I need to know I can be someone who makes a difference and who, in my own way, can change the world. My own failures, and those of others, will loom large and fight hard to define me. I need to know that this isn’t the final word and that there’s something meaningful beyond this.
Whatever this quality is, I don’t learn it from the ghost-like personalities floating through my social media apps or the latest “binge-worthy” Netflix series. I don’t get there just because I’ve defined myself by my own idiosyncratic whims (that I then naively tout as being “true to myself”). My peers certainly can’t help much since they’re stuck in the same blind alley that I am.
The truth is, I only learn this quality—this strength—from a person who has become real. Someone who has the courage to get up and get going again after they’ve fallen. Someone who faces their own demons and refuses to give them a voice. Someone who’s doing the hard work of self-forgiveness and embracing their life anew every day. Someone who has the audacity to believe they bring something of supreme value to the world and won’t stop until they see this fully realized.
This is why I need you in my life. This is why I hope you’ll keep pursuing me during this brief time we have together. I can’t do this by myself.
Of course, I know it would be helpful if I could tell you all this, but I don’t quite have the words for it yet.
Remember, I’m just a teen.