The Day I Realized I Didn't Know My Own Child
It started with eye rolls.
At first, I brushed them off.
She’s just being a teenager, I told myself.
Hormones. Independence. Mood swings.
But then came the silence.
The “I don’t know” to every question.
The closed door.
The shrinking presence of someone I used to know like the back of my hand.
One afternoon, I stood in the kitchen and realized I couldn’t remember the last time we laughed together.
Really laughed.
The kind that makes soda come out your nose, from shared inside jokes and a little father-daughter verbal assault..
That’s when it hit me like a knee to the groin:
I didn’t know my child anymore.
And worse, I wasn’t sure she knew I wanted to.
When “I Don’t Know” Means “I’m Overwhelmed”
If you’ve ever asked your teen how they’re doing and have been met with a shrug or a muttered “I’m fine,” you know this ache.
Many teens don’t know how to articulate what they’re feeling.
Sometimes, it’s anxiety.
Sometimes shame.
Sometimes, they just fear that being honest will only make things more challenging.
According to the TeenSpeak Perspective Series, when teens say “I don’t know,” it’s often not indifference—it’s self-protection.
They’re trying to navigate emotional terrain without a map.
They’re not looking for interrogation.
They’re hoping for an invitation.
Invitation into conversation.
Into a safe space.
Into connection.
But how do you do that when they’ve already started to pull away?
And Just Like That
For me, it was a Friday night.
She said she was studying for exams.
But instead, she’d slipped out to a party.
I found her there, curled up in a closet, crying.
She wasn’t in good shape. But nothing that a sleep would help with..
She would be fine, I told myself.
Something was off.
From school.
From pressure.
From us.
She asked if I was mad. I told her I loved her and said we could talk in the morning. We drove the rest of the way home in silence.
I tucked her in and said the only thing I could think of:
“Tomorrow’s a new day.”
But that night, she tried to end her life.
And in the aftermath of that unbearable moment, I faced a hard truth:
Love alone wasn’t enough.
She didn’t need fixing.
She needed understanding.
She needed a guide who would not tell her what to do but walk alongside her while she figured it out.
Why Mentorship Matters
That moment became the seed of something greater.
Out of grief, The Mentor Well was born.
Not to replace therapy. Work in tandem with therapy.
Not to replace parenting. But a bridge to parenting.
But to fill a critical gap in the lives of teens like mine.
Teens who need someone outside the family, outside the pressure, outside the clinical setting.
Someone who listens first and talks second.
A mentor.
A mirror.
A witness to their becoming.
Because emotional intelligence isn’t taught in school.
And resilience doesn’t grow in isolation.
It grows in relationship.
In trust.
In time.
What I Wish I’d Known Sooner
Curiosity beats control.
Instead of “Why would you do that?” try “What was going on for you in that moment?”Silence is often a scream.
When your teen retreats, it’s not rejection. It’s a red flag.
Meet them with calm, not criticism.Mentors aren’t a sign you’ve failed.
They’re a sign you’re willing to widen the circle of support.
If This Feels Familiar… You’re Not Alone
Maybe your teen is pulling away.
Maybe they’re struggling, and every attempt to connect feels like a swing and a miss.
Maybe, like me, you realize just how easy it is to live alongside someone you love, and still miss the signs.
Let that realization be your re-entry point.
Let it lead you to the conversations you’ve been afraid to have.
Let it bring you here.
To The Mentor Well.
To a place where connection is built one story, one question, one “I’m here if you need me” at a time.
Ready to Reconnect?
➡️ Download our free Conversation Starters — for teens and parents
➡️ Looking for a personal mentor for your teen? Let’s talk.
Because the day you realize you don’t know your child…
Can be the day everything begins to change.
