Face the facts. Your teenager is an asshole. No really. He or she is an asshole. But so is mine.
The quicker you learn this as a parent of a teen, the quicker you’ll see the slightest sliver of light at the end of the parenting-teens tunnel.
You see, it’s like one of those Sunday mornings, after you and your spouse have sprung for the fancy hotel, the one with those high-quality blackout curtains. The curtain you thought you pulled all the way closed, but you came about 2 inches short. When the morning sun screams through that opening and your brain is melting, you realize maybe making that last Red Bull Vodka from the mini bar combined with the 2 AM room-service buffalo wings were probably mistakes.
Wait. Is that just us? It’s a powerful realization that is quite literally eye-opening
(Author’s apology: that was a ridiculous digression.)
What do I mean when I call our teens assholes? They’re selfish. They’re inconsiderate. They’re mean, they’re hurtful, they’re stubborn; they leave dishes with nasty food in their room; they roll their eyes; they lie, they manipulate; they always remember to say, “I need,” but never “thank you;” and, if you get in their path, it’s all directed at you. You know, assholes.
Would you let an asshole at the grocery store ruin the next six years of your life? Would you let them challenge your feeling of worth or your definition of self? Of course not. So, don’t let your teen.
Here’s the thing, as personal as parenting is, the moment we take it personally, we lose our perspective, effectiveness, and resiliency as parents. It’s not about you; it’s about them. The damnedest thing is you’ve probably been telling your teen, “it’s not always about you!” Sho ’nuff, Pops. Likewise, it’s not about you either.
Take one of my teens (please). Going through high school, she said the meanest things about me and to me, I could ever imagine. “I hate you.” “You’re a horrible dad.” “You’re not even a real Dad.” “I wish you never had me.” Shit Marsha Brady never said Carol for sure.
Early on, when I took it personally, I’d get furious. I’d snap back. I’d shout things about respect and ungratefulness. Worse, after the argument, I’d fume. I’d carry the anger back to the rest of the family. And late at night, I’d doubt my values as a parent. Words from your child can hurt like a MF’er, which could push you into depression just as fast as it could push you into poor parenting choices.
Soon, during one of the tirades, the sun screamed through that blackout curtain. I realized she did this to everyone that was “in her way.” Afterward, she was always willing to make up with me and always genuinely regretful about what she said. I knew she didn’t mean what she said. I knew it every time it happened but that didn’t stop me from reacting at her level. When I got over myself, when I stepped back and looked at my daughter with clinical eyes versus a father’s eyes, I saw that when she was acting out of control, she was actually out of control. I had little to do with it.
The moment I rolled with the next rash of rudeness and saw her as an out-of-control KID (they’re kids, folks), I was less like a dinghy and more like a battleship in rough seas. I let the snark, sarcasm, and meanness just bounce off me. I made my points in a Joe Friday manner, addressed the inappropriate behavior and words with the zen of Mr. Miyagi, and then ended the conversation. I walked away and just said, “what an asshole.” I slept just fine that night.
Later, when my wife Alicia started getting the special treatment from her teens (every teen asshole has their own unique asshole MO), I could hug her and just say out loud, “teenagers are assholes, man.” It became our “serenity now” catchphrase when we needed to re-center ourselves.
Does calling your teen an asshole solve your teen’s problem? Nope. Make them better kids? Nope. Fix them? Nope to the third. That’s because YOU can’t fix them, you big dummy. That’s not your job. They need to fix themselves. And learning to fix themselves is how they will become functional, healthy adults.
What’s your job? To be the home base. Show them that you will still be there when they act like complete assholes. You model unconditional love for them. You show them that their actions have consequences, not in the form of losing their phones, but in telling them that they’ve hurt your feelings and that you’re going to walk away until they’re ready to treat you appropriately no matter how long that takes.
As we know, in life, if you lash out consistently at a friend or partner, or spouse and blame them for everything, you’re not going to lose access to TikTok; you’re going to lose that person in your life. Actions. Consequences.
Doing this pulls their blackout shade open two inches. And the moment that sun screams through that gap, they will realize what you already know, “gee, I’m an asshole.”
—
Shutterstock image