A note for the mom who has noticed
You ask how her day was. She says fine. Her door closes a little earlier than it used to.
You can hear it before you can name it.
The house is the same. The schedule is the same. But the conversation that used to fill the spaces has gone somewhere you can't quite follow.
You still ask. How was your day. How are you feeling. Anything you want to talk about. And the answer comes back smooth and final. Fine. Good. I'm tired.
You are not imagining it. There is a difference between a teenager who is quiet and a teenager who has gone quiet. One is a personality. The other is a door.
It shows up in small edits to a day you used to know by heart.
No single one of these means something is wrong. Together, they're usually a daughter managing more than she's telling you.
Here's what years of working with teen girls keeps revealing. A girl this age usually feels the storm long before she has words for it. She can tell something is loud and heavy inside her. She can't yet name it, explain it, or ask for the right kind of help with it.
So she does the thing that feels safest. She says fine and closes the door.
The silence isn't her shutting you out. It's her running out of words at the exact moment she needs them most. And the longer she goes without language for what she feels, the heavier the whole thing gets.
This is why sympathy on its own rarely moves it. What she needs isn't another person feeling sad alongside her. She needs the words for what's happening in her own head, in language that sounds like hers.
If you're like most moms who reach this point, the list is long.
None of that was wrong. Some of it is genuinely helping. But most of it works on the outside of the problem. It manages the weather. It doesn't hand her the one thing she's missing, which is a way to understand her own mind from the inside, so the storm stops running the show.
You already know what another quiet year costs. Another twelve months of fine. Another stretch of dinners where you do most of the talking. The slow, private worry that you're her mother and you still can't reach her.
That worry isn't a verdict on you. It's the gap between how much you love her and how few tools either of you was ever handed for a mind this age. That gap can close. It usually closes faster than moms expect, and it starts with her having the words.
What can help
I would, but MY DAMN MIND won't let me! is a short, plain-spoken guide written for exactly this girl. Not a textbook. Not a lecture about feelings. A quick read, in language that sounds like how she actually thinks, that shows her how her own mind works and why it keeps sending the signals it does.
My Dearest One,
Today is the worst day of my life. I just found out I am pregnant, and now I have to make the toughest decision I have ever had to make. Today I have decided to do something I never thought I would. Words cannot express how sorry I am. I don’t know how to take care of you. You see, I’m only a child myself. At sixteen, I can barely take care of myself; how can I take care of you? I have nothing to give you. I am just a good for nothing troublemaker. All I do is cause pain and destruction wherever I go.
So, my Dearest One, even though it’s breaking my heart, I have to do the unthinkable. This is the only choice I have. To bring you into this world would mean I would doom you to a life of misery, pain, and poverty. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. You don’t deserve this so-called existence I have to offer you…
I remember the day I wrote that letter to my unborn child as if it were yesterday. Earlier that morning, I had gone to a health clinic to get on birth control. I had recently become sexually active, and I knew I did not want to get pregnant. It was my third attempt to get birth control. With the first two visits to the clinic, I felt so terrified, so judged, and so unwelcomed that before my name was called, I had silently walked out. This time, I told myself, I will stay and submit to the dreaded pap smear because the alternative of getting pregnant would be far worse.
I remember laying on the exam table, with my feet up on the stirrups, naked from the waist down, with only a thin paper drape covering my lap. I was so scared that I was shaking. I did all I could to distract myself from what was about to happen, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the fear.
If I thought I was afraid then, nothing compared to the next few minutes. A male physician came into my room and picked up my chart without so much as a glance my way, or even the courtesy of a greeting. He just flipped through my chart for a moment, walked toward me, smacked my backside with the chart and told me, “Get dressed. You don’t need birth control. You’re pregnant.”
My whole world froze. Everything moved in slow motion. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. The doctor was telling me something, but I couldn’t hear a word he was saying. “You’re Pregnant!!!” kept reverberating inside my head. I tried so hard to hold back the tears that poured out uncontrollably. I’m sure this moment lasted only a few minutes, but to me, it felt like an eternity.
Somehow, I managed to make my way home. I don’t remember much more about that day except for laying in my bed sobbing quietly so my mother couldn’t hear me, as I wrote that letter to my unborn child.
I knew what I must do. I knew I was incapable of being a mother. I knew I had nothing to give. I had to do the one thing I told myself I would never do – have an abortion.
It had been years since I had written in a journal. I used to love writing in my diary until one day I caught my mother reading my most personal thoughts without my permission. Since then I decided never to write down such personal thoughts ever again. I did not want to be exposed and vulnerable. I did not want anyone to know my deepest fears, doubts, or shame.
But that night was different. That night, I felt compelled to write. I was making a decision to end the life of my unborn child before it even had a chance to breathe fresh air. The only way I knew how to honor this child was by writing an apology letter in advance to explain why I had no choice but to submit to the only option I had. I hoped that somehow, this act of expressing my sincere remorse would earn me forgiveness.
I continued to sob as the words flowed freely from my heart. Everything became blurry because of my rapidly swelling eyelids, caused by a stream of tears that wouldn’t stop. I felt every ounce of life drained out of me, yet, I kept writing.
My Dearest One, you deserve so much – so much more than I have to offer you. You deserve everything good in life… a mom who can take care of you, to love you, and to show you every day that you are the most magnificent thing in life. How did you get so unlucky to come into my life? You are doomed with me. I have nothing to give. I would only ruin your life. But who says that? Who says I have nothing to give? Even though I have no clue what I’m doing, and I have no clue how I’m going to make it through the pregnancy, let alone the childbirth, and being your mother, I know I have something to give you. I can give you love. I don’t have much, but I could give you that.
My Dearest One, you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, yet I feel the warmth of your presence, and it comforts me. Even though you haven’t spoken, I heard your voice clearly. And it was your voice that helped me to find mine.
The flow of tears stopped. I stood up, and for the first time that day, I could breathe freely.
My Dearest One, I now know I have choices. I choose you.
What started out as an apology letter to my unborn child took on an unexpected life of its own, and it gave me a new life. At that moment, I found the clarity that poured forth from my own intuition. I knew exactly what to choose for myself and for my unborn child. I was given a chance. I was given a choice. I received a miracle. I now saw this as an opportunity to decide for myself who I truly am, and to realize just how strong I could become.
My pregnancy was every bit as tough and trying as I had imagined, and not because I was in pain or suffered from severe morning sickness. It was brutal for me because of the constant battle with doubt and shame. I remember doing my best to hide my ever-growing belly. I remember the looks of disgust and judgment from passersby. Many days, I had questioned my decision, and my ability to parent. I can still recall the cruel words and condescending remarks from my medical providers – the very people who were supposed to guide me through this scary, unknown territory.
During labor, the nurse had to catheterize me. I squirmed and grimaced out of fear and pain. She looked sternly at me and said, “A hole is a hole when I can’t see it. You either lay still, or I’m going to shove this where I can.”
Later, during the peak of a labor contraction, I screamed out in pain. A different nurse shouted at me, “You got yourself into this and you’re about to have a baby! Stop acting like one!”
You can’t imagine the level of fear, shame, and total disbelief I experienced that day, on top of the physical pain of childbirth. It was worse than any experience of humiliation and disregard I could have ever imagined.
Then I heard it – his soft, little cry. It sounded like the voice of an angel singing to me, reassuring me that everything was going to be OK, that I was OK. The moment I held my son and looked into his eyes, my entire world changed in an instant. When I looked into his eyes and held his little fingers, I felt the most powerful, overwhelming feeling of love sweep over me, covering every inch of me with so much joy my heart felt like it was going to burst. In the moment that our eyes met, I felt healed from the inside out. I had never experienced a love like that, nor did I know a love like that was even possible.
At that moment I knew why I was put on this earth. I knew I had to do everything I could to become a person deserving of this little angel’s love, my Dearest One’s love. I knew it was up to me to break this cycle of poverty, of low self-esteem, and extreme self-hatred so I can give this newborn little angel everything he deserved. I also felt a deep desire to make sure that other teen girls wouldn’t have to suffer the pain and humiliation that I had experienced - that I could be a source of strength, support, and guidance for them.
When my son, Alan, was four months old, I passed my G.E.D. exam and enrolled in college. Even though I dropped out of 10th grade a year earlier, I was now determined to succeed. I was a young woman on two very important missions. Mission one, be the person who was deserving of this little boy’s love. Mission two, be the person who will champion for other teen girls, to give them a safe place to go so they can learn to make healthy, positive choices for themselves in a supportive and nurturing environment.
My journey into self-love and academic success was long and challenging. I didn’t have much self-worth, and I didn’t have a strong academic foundation. It felt like everything was twice as difficult for me. So many times, I wanted to give up, but in those moments all I had to do was look into my son’s eyes or hear his joyous laughter. Each time my son hugged me or called me “Mommy,” he recharged me and strengthened my resolve to become “that person” I knew I could be.
I began to devour every self-help book I could get my hands on. I was hungry for knowledge. I was hungry for change.
Through that long and often painful journey into self-love, I learned that all the judgments I felt from others were actually judgments I held against myself. Each time I felt judged or looked down upon, it was the voice of my Inner Bully pointing out my flaws and insecurities. Each time I experienced the pain of feeling unloved or being unlovable, it was the voice of my Inner Bully telling me false stories about myself. My Inner Bully has mastered the art of projecting my fears and self-doubts outward, so I had someone else to blame for my mistakes and failures.
For so many years of my life, I have been allowing my Inner Bully to rob me of my self-confidence, self-esteem, and self-worth because I did not understand how my mind worked. I did not know I could transform my negative internal voice into a voice of love and support for myself.
Once I discovered that my Inner Bully was really just trying to protect me from getting hurt, albeit, in a very misguided way, I took control and became the boss of my life. I discovered that I had the power to change everything I didn’t like about my life. I discovered that I could give myself a chance to succeed in life and be happy. I learned that no matter what was happening outside of me, I had the power to choose how I see the situation. I had the power to choose how to respond and react. I had the power to let go of things that held me back, and to focus on things that brought me happiness and joy. And best of all, I knew that I had my very own best friend with me 24/7, to guide and support me. And if the inner voice of my new best friend wasn’t up for the job at the moment, I had my son who was my number one reason for pursuing my evolution with so much passion and determination.
At age 23, I graduated Cum Laude from East Tennessee State University with a master’s degree in nursing. I had realized my academic dream of becoming a Nurse Practitioner and was well on my way to creating that safe space for teens to learn about themselves and make good life choices.
I remember the exhilaration of walking across the stage to receive my diploma. As I exited the stage, my six-year-old son came up to me, gave me a huge hug, and said, “I’m so proud of you, Mommy.”
At that moment, my whole world moved in slow motion once again. But this time, it was because I was standing in my power, choosing to savor every single second. I had come full circle. That scared, hopeless little girl who felt so unlovable and unworthy was now a strong, loving, independent woman who has so much to give back to the world.
Today, I am on a mission to help teens and young adults discover how damaging their negative internal voice can be. I call it the voice of the Inner Bully. Today, I share all the tools and techniques that I have learned during my own transformational journey to help others transform their Inner Bully into their Best Friend and Personal Champion for success.
My Dearest One, I love you more than life itself. Every day my heart is filled with love and gratitude that you had chosen me to be your mother. You taught me how to love myself unconditionally. You taught me how to give and receive love freely. You opened my heart to endless possibilities and wonderments. Because of you, I have learned to trust my intuition, to step into my full power, and to live my life with passion and purpose. My Dearest One, thank you for being my greatest teacher and the greatest love of my life. I am eternally grateful for the miracle of you.
My son Alan, my granddaughter Bean, and me. Thank you my Dearest One for the miracle of us.
Whether your daughter is unraveling, your son has gone quiet, or you’re the one barely holding it together, there’s a starting point here for you.
Start wherever your heart is.
