Bad News

Or maybe it’s good news? (Probably depends on what paradigm you operate from—maybe it’s time to explore a different one...) 

Here it is. I’ve diagnosed your child. (I know. This is high treason seeing as how I’m not an expert.)

Ready? 

Except in extremely rare cases, I’m willing to bet that your kid is: 

Wait for it…

****

****

****

Normal. 

Ordinary.

Unexceptional.

I know this may be a hard pill to swallow, but by it’s very definition, the word “exceptional” is unlikely to describe your kid. Just based on the odds, I’d say your kid is just a typical kid, doing what any typical kid would do in the same situation. I assure you, there is a very strong likelihood that they’re not wired funny or having some extraordinary response to their environment. They’re simply…normal. 

We live in a culture that strongly values exceptionality. When we bring a child into this world, we’re filled with hopes and dreams about the outstanding things they’re going to accomplish. But again, what are the odds? And imagine what kind of pressure this puts on your kid–your very likely average, unexceptional kid whose capacity is that of any normal person.

Often when our children respond poorly to our expectation of exceptionality, we think there’s something wrong with them. We take them to the doctor who confirms for us that our child is indeed exceptional. “Aha! According to this expert, there’s this esoteric reason he’s grumpy, resistant, defiant, withdrawn, sad, etc. I knew it! He’s exceptional after all and this expert has a solution for me.” 

Photo by Tony Tran on Unsplash

In our culture, normal is unattractive, boring, unseen, invisible. We all have deep psychological needs to be seen and accepted and valued. For our very normal teens, a trans identity (or a diagnosis) provides this in a world where exceptionality seems to be required to have value.

Some more hard truths… 

Life is difficult. Always has been. Good thing humans have such capacity to overcome hard things. Good thing we’re wired for this.

Humans have been around an awfully long time and certainly not because we’re fragile. Only in recent times have we elevated “experts” who diagnose us with conditions that mean we can’t handle normal human experiences that will test our limits or that if we don’t conform well to current cultural standards, we’re somehow disordered and need to be medicated to function.

Life is not going to go easy on anyone, and I’m of the opinion that medicating difficult feelings makes you even less equipped to handle the tragedies that Life is sure to throw your way. I’m going to be straight with you and let you know I’m in the camp that thinks we’ve pathologized and marketed treatments for every possible thing we can, most of which are normal human experiences. (Let me be clear that I’m not saying there aren’t differences that make it very difficult or impossible to function without high levels of support. I just believe this is the rare exception, not the rule.) We’re led to believe there’s something wrong with us when things feel really, really bad. Past generations would think we’re pretty silly. 

And guess what? Parenting is among those really hard things. Maybe. I have some thoughts on this that I’ll probably share more of shortly. But here’s one: I suspect that for those of us who parented so consciously, determined to do things the “right” way, that when our children hit adolescence and begin the very natural process of individuation, pulling away from us, rejecting our input and our values, looking to their friends instead of to us, we want answers as to why this feels so damn bad. Especially if there are indicators our child could be headed down a dangerous path.

But here’s what I think is the good news. You can tell me whether you agree that this is comforting: 

It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society. -Jiddu Krishnamurti 

My assessment of what’s happening right now is that rather than our children having an extraordinary response to a normal environment, our children are having a normal response to a “profoundly sick” environment. 

That’s right! You raised such a conscientious kid that they’re struggling to tolerate the unhealthy environment that our culture has become. 

So now what? 

I wanted to cheer out loud when I read this recently in a parenting book: 

The best gift you can give your teenager is confidence that she is a strong, healthy, normal kid who's doing just what she should be doing.

Unfortunately, this parenting book is from 1993 and our culture has pivoted quite drastically from this simple wisdom. 

Who wants to be normal and healthy? Who even knows what this looks like anymore? It would seem everyone has one neurodivergence or another. Who doesn’t have a mental health diagnosis? The mental health industry has exploded in recent years, and people use their diagnoses to describe who they are. Without a diagnosis or disorder or difference, you may as well be nobody–which also seems to mean nobody can help you. 

But maybe you’re just normal. Maybe your kid is just normal. And maybe if we recognize their (and our) natural human wiring to overcome hard things (which means letting them experience and have the negative feelings that come with hard things—I know this is where I’m going to get slammed in the comments. It’s okay—let’s talk about this), then maybe they’ll believe that about themselves. 

Maybe if we stop trying to fix our kids, they’ll stop believing they’re broken. And then maybe, when they go about the normal identity exploration of adolescence, they’ll figure out (with our loving, nonjudgmental support and faith that they have the capacity) that this fragile identity that they’ve tried on is very limiting and probably doesn’t suit them. 

But if we freak out, believing they need us to rescue them, that they’re incapable of figuring this out unless we encase them tightly in bubble wrap and whisk them away to where this “profoundly sick society” can’t touch them, what does that communicate to them? How does that prepare them to be in this world, which unfortunately, is pretty damn sick in my opinion?

I’ve said before that my way is an experiment. But there’s this crazy, old parenting book from 1993 that makes me think maybe it’s not… 

That maybe I’m just a normal mom. With a normal, healthy kid, doing normal, healthy kid things as best she can in this bold, new world. And if I can hold a container for her (the bigger container you can tolerate, the better, imo) and I trust in her very normal human capacity to overcome hard things, and beyond that even, if I can convey to her that I have faith she’ll figure out how to live authentically in a messed up culture, she’ll end up learning some very profound things about herself and humanity: 

That she’s a normal, average, unexceptional human. And humans are bad-ass.