When Your Child Is Struggling: How to Show Up

When your child or teenager is struggling with their mental health, it can feel like the ground shifts beneath you.

One minute you’re looking at the same person you’ve always known, and the next you’re watching them withdraw, snap, cry, shut down, or go quiet in a way that makes your chest feel tight. And in those moments, so many parents sit with the same thoughts swirling around their heads: What’s happening? Have I missed something? Am I making it worse? What do I even say?

If you’re reading this, we want you to know something straight away — you’re not failing. You’re not alone. And you don’t need to have all the answers to make a difference.

A lot of parents feel pressure to “fix” it. To rush in with solutions, advice, plans, or positivity. But mental health doesn’t work like a scraped knee. It’s messy, emotional, and often unpredictable. Sometimes the most helpful thing you can do isn’t to fix the storm, but to help your child feel less alone inside it.

That starts with something surprisingly simple: noticing without judging. You might spot changes in their sleep, appetite, mood, energy, motivation, friendships, or confidence. You might feel like they’re not themselves. And when you mention it, it’s tempting to push for answers straight away. But often, a gentle approach lands better than a big interrogation.

Try opening the door softly. Something like, “I’ve noticed you seem a bit weighed down lately. I’m not here to pry, I just want you to know I’m here.” Then stop. Let the silence exist. Let them shrug. Let them say “I’m fine” even if you know they aren’t.

Because what you’re doing isn’t demanding a conversation. You’re planting a flag that says: I’m safe. I’m steady. I’m not going anywhere.

And if you don’t really understand what they’re going through, that honesty can actually be comforting. You don’t need to pretend you get it. You can simply say, “I don’t have the perfect words, but I care about you so much. I want to understand, and you don’t have to explain it perfectly.”

Many young people don’t open up because they don’t want to upset you. They don’t want to feel like a burden. They worry you’ll panic or get angry, or that you’ll try to talk them out of how they feel. Sometimes they’re scared that once they start talking, everything will spill out and they won’t be able to stop it.

So your calm matters more than your words. A softer voice. Open body language. A pause before reacting. Not jumping in with solutions too fast. You can feel worried — of course you can — but it helps if your child doesn’t become responsible for managing your fear as well as their own feelings.

If they do open up, even a little, one of the biggest gifts you can give them is belief. Not “Are you sure?” Not “But you’ve got so much to be happy about.” Not “It can’t be that bad.” Even if you mean well, it can land as dismissal.

Instead, try reflecting back what you hear. “That sounds exhausting.” “That sounds really tough.” “I’m really glad you told me.” Validation doesn’t mean you agree with everything they think. It just means you recognise their feelings are real. And when a young person feels emotionally safe, it becomes easier for them to talk again next time.

And if you’re terrified of saying the wrong thing, here’s something many parents need to hear: you can repair almost anything with your child if you stay connected and keep coming back. Even if you mess up. Even if you handle a moment badly. Even if you react and then regret it.

Repair can sound like, “I didn’t handle that well earlier. I’m sorry. I’m learning too. I love you and I’m here.” That one sentence can soften walls that have been building for weeks.

Sometimes your child won’t want a deep conversation at all. That doesn’t mean they don’t need you. It might mean they’re overwhelmed and their brain can’t handle big questions. In those moments, connection can look like presence without pressure.

Sitting in the same room. Watching something together. Offering a snack. Driving them somewhere without turning the car into a counselling session. Showing interest in what they like without trying to turn it into a life lesson. Teenagers especially often talk sideways — they’ll share something important while looking at their phone, or right as you’re making a cup of tea, or at bedtime when you thought the day was done. Those little moments matter. They are your openings.

Support doesn’t always look like a grand gesture. It’s the small repeated signals that say, I see you. You matter. You don’t have to pretend with me.

And it helps to remember that mental health struggles often come out sideways. Anxiety can look like anger. Depression can look like laziness. Overwhelm can look like rudeness. Low self-worth can look like perfectionism. Panic can look like stubbornness. If you can pause before reacting and ask yourself, What might this behaviour be trying to communicate? you’ll often respond with more compassion and less conflict.

That doesn’t mean there are no boundaries — there should be. But boundaries can still be held with kindness. “I won’t let you speak to me like that, but I can see you’re having a hard time. Let’s take a break and try again.” That approach teaches them something powerful: they can feel big feelings and still be loved.

And while we’re being honest, supporting a child through mental health struggles can be exhausting in a way people don’t talk about enough. You can love them fiercely and still feel worn down. You can show up all day and cry in the bathroom at night. You can feel guilty for wanting five minutes of peace.

That doesn’t make you a bad parent. It makes you human.

So please don’t forget that you matter too. Your child doesn’t need you to be perfect. They need you to be present, consistent, and supported enough to keep showing up. Sometimes that means speaking to someone you trust, asking for help, learning more, or simply giving yourself permission to breathe.

And if there’s one thing to hold onto, it’s this: you don’t need to become an expert in mental health overnight. Your job isn’t to fix everything. Your job is to stay. To be the safe person they can come back to. To remind them, gently and consistently, that they are loved, they are not alone, and they don’t have to carry this by themselves.

Because sometimes, when everything feels heavy, the most powerful words a parent can offer are the simplest ones of all:

“I’m here. I’m listening. We’ll figure this out together.” 💛