We don’t say anything. We just try to keep going. There are no words, at least not any we could string together to make sense of it all. Solutions evade us, or brains are clouded with confusion, and about the time we think we have some of the knot untangled, a new extreme presents itself.

That’s how being a mom of a teenage girl feels right now.

You ask us how we are doing, and mostly, we respond with a “just fine” with a little sigh and a slight smile.

You ask how she’s doing, and our answer is similar, a “good” with a shrug.

We don’t say anything, because it’s hard. It’s all hard to explain, the riding high one minute then wrestling with emotions the next, the gleeful laughter today, then the devastating sadness tomorrow. Add to that any mental health disorder or physical impairment (or both!), and we have ourselves a mess that is nearly impossible to describe sensibly.

We hold back, because the words sound garbled coming out of our mouths. Where do we start? Launch into the behind-the-scenes crying despite the gleeful social media posts? Attempt to explain the busy schedule but also the reasons she hasn’t left the house in five days? Explicate the nuances of giggly chatter this morning against the refusal to answer a phone call this afternoon? We hear ourselves when we tell you about our girl, and it sounds as much like a tossed, chopped, over-dressed word salad to us as it probably does to you.

We actually don’t know.

We can’t ask.

We only surmise.

We are bewildered.

None of it makes sense.

There are parts missing.

They don’t tell us everything.

They don’t want our help.

They do want our help.

They need their friends.

Their “friends” suck.

They want their friends.

Their friends are also struggling.

We want to protect their dignity.

We are trying to preserve our own sanity.

We got nothing.

Oh, what’s this now?

Is she a delight? Absolutely. She’s the most beautiful, perfect human we could ever imagine.

Is it difficult? Yes, Sir. She did not come easy-to-assemble with a manual. She is influenced, instructed, and pressured by the most materialistic, egocentric, immoral, perverse world that has ever existed.

Is it going to be ok? I hope so! We are all doing the best we can and trying our damnedest not to make it all worse.

Is that bad? Sometimes. She is the cutest, the funniest, the most talented, the smartest, the most charming, Jesus-loving, silly pizza roll-eating, Chik-Fil-A craving, boyfriend-texting hot mess bundle of joy you ever saw…until she isn’t. And it’s beyond awful for both of us. 

Please take our “just fine”, and pray for us. Take our “good” knowing it probably isn’t so good. If we haven’t called, if she won’t answer the phone, if we don’t visit, don’t be hurt. When you see the social media smiles and hear of exciting adventures, know that there is a proportionate amount of angst and tears that are never posted. Accept that there isn’t always an explanation, a cause, or a solution. Some situations just “are” and can’t be rectified. Don’t bemoan her manners or critique her style. Please don’t judge how we parent.

We are trying our best. I am, and she is.

It’s hard.

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