Emotionally based school avoidance is when a young person’s anxiety about school builds until their body simply won’t let them walk through the gates, even when part of them wants to. The response is often involuntary, built up after years of coping and masking rather than any wilful decision to miss lessons. Recognising that difference is usually where things start to shift for families.

What emotionally based school avoidance actually is, and isn’t

This has nothing to do with laziness, or a teenager simply not fancying double maths. Emotionally based school avoidance, often shortened to EBSA, is anxiety so intense it overrides your child’s own wish to go to school. It builds in the nervous system rather than as a decision made in the moment, and that’s very different from an occasional reluctant Monday.

Over years of working with sensitive teenagers I’ve seen it show up in all sorts of ways: stomach aches that are entirely real, meltdowns at the school gate, long silences, or a teenager who seems completely fine until the moment they have to put their shoes on.

Some of the teenagers I work with already have a diagnosis of ADHD or autism. For others, there isn’t a diagnosis, but there’s a sense that something more is going on. Either way, that question matters, because it can shape how we understand a young person’s relationship with school and what’s actually contributing to their struggles.

Why it builds slowly, long before anyone notices

EBSA rarely arrives overnight. It tends to build over months, sometimes years, through small moments of masking: holding it together in the classroom, saving the meltdown for the car home, learning to look fine so nobody asks questions. By the time it becomes visible, a young person has often been coping for a very long time.

That’s part of what makes it so hard to catch early. The teenager who seems to manage fine at school is often the same one who comes home and collapses, and it’s easy for everyone, school and parents included, to miss how much effort it’s taking just to hold it together during the day.

Fighting on two fronts: school and home

Parents coming to see me are often exhausted from fighting two different battles. At school, the need frequently gets missed or put down to something else, while the SEN process, and the wait for an EHCP if your teenager needs one, can take so long that months, sometimes a whole school year, pass before anyone properly names what’s going on.

Meanwhile at home there’s another battle, trying to talk to a teenager who’s shut down, defensive, or too overwhelmed to explain what’s wrong. You’re advocating for your child in rooms they’re not even in, then coming home to a child who can’t or won’t talk about any of it. That combination is an enormous amount to carry, and I don’t think it gets said often enough just how exhausting it is.

Why your teenager isn’t doing this on purpose

If there’s one thing I’d want you to trust here, it’s your instinct that this isn’t wilful. The avoidance response in EBSA is largely involuntary, a nervous system reaction rather than a conscious choice, and it’s often the result of years of masking finally catching up with your child.

That doesn’t change what needs to happen next, but it does change where you start. Rather than persuasion or consequences, the way in is through understanding what’s actually happening underneath, for your teenager and for you.

What EBSA support for parents and teenagers can actually look like

Therapy can’t speed up an EHCP or make a school change its approach overnight, and I’d never tell you it could. What it can offer is a steady relationship where your teenager feels met as themselves, not as a problem to be managed, often for the first time in a long while.

For parents, EBSA support for parents often looks like a space to put the vigilance down for an hour, to ask the questions you can’t ask your own child right now, and to understand the teenage brain well enough to respond rather than react. A lot of what drives burnout in this situation deserves its own space, I’ve written more about that in ‘The Burnout Trap‘ and it’s worth a read if exhaustion is where you’re sitting right now.

Where it’s useful, that support can include advocacy too. I can speak directly with schools, SENCOs or other professionals involved, write letters to support an EHCP application, or sit alongside you in meetings so you’re not having to find the right words on your own. For many parents, having someone in the room who already understands the teenage brain and the SEN system changes the whole conversation.

Often I’m working with the teenager and the parent separately, sometimes together, building up enough safety that your young person can say what’s actually going on rather than what they think everyone wants to hear. You can read more about how I support sensitive teenagers specifically on my page for Highly Sensitive Teens.

The fear that you’ve done something wrong

Almost every parent I sit with eventually asks some version of, did I cause this. I understand why that fear sits so close to the surface, especially if you grew up in a family where sensitivity was seen as weakness and you’ve been trying so hard to do things differently with your own child.

EBSA doesn’t come from one decision or one conversation. It builds from a mix of temperament, environment and experience that’s rarely anyone’s fault, and the parents I meet are, almost without exception, doing everything they know how to do.

Where things start to shift

None of this shifts quickly, and I won’t tell you it does. But understanding what’s actually going on, for your teenager and for you, tends to be where things start to loosen, even slightly, after a long time of feeling stuck.

If this sounds like where your family is right now, I offer an initial call to talk through what’s going on and whether working together might help. You can find out more and book a time here.

Common questions about emotionally based school avoidance

What is emotionally based school avoidance?
Emotionally based school avoidance is when anxiety becomes so overwhelming that a young person’s body and mind won’t let them attend school, even when they want to. It isn’t about defiance or a lack of effort, it’s a nervous system response that usually builds up gradually over time.

Why does my teenager struggle to go to school when they used to manage fine?
This often means the coping and masking that got them through before has reached its limit. Many sensitive teenagers hold things together at school and release everything once they’re home, so the struggle can look sudden when it’s actually been building for a long while.

How long does emotionally based school avoidance usually last?
It varies a great deal from family to family, and I wouldn’t want to put a timeframe on it that isn’t true for your child. What I can say is that understanding what’s underneath it, and getting the right support in place, tends to make the path through it feel more manageable, even when it’s still slow.

Can therapy help with emotionally based school avoidance?
Therapy can’t change school processes or speed up an EHCP, but it can offer your teenager a relationship where they feel safe enough to be honest about what’s really going on, and it can offer you support in understanding and responding to what you’re seeing at home. It can also offer reassurance and advocacy in situations where you feel you are not being heard.

What if the school doesn’t take it seriously?
This is one of the hardest parts for parents, and you’re not imagining how slow and frustrating that process can be. Keeping a record of what you’re noticing at home, alongside getting support for your teenager’s emotional wellbeing, can help build the picture schools and SEN teams need to see.

A therapist who works with teenagers has spent real time building experience with the teenage brain and how it processes the world. Their brains are very different from adults, still developing in ways that shape emotion, impulse and communication. That difference matters more than most parents realise when they start searching, and it’s worth knowing what to look for before you pick up the phone.

You’re not failing because this feels hard to work out

If you’ve got this far, you’ve probably already tried the things that usually work. Listening more. Giving space. Asking gently, then not asking at all. None of it quite landing.

That doesn’t mean you’ve done something wrong. It means you’re parenting a teenager whose brain is wired to pull away from you right when you most want to hold on, and that’s one of the hardest parts of this stage of parenting, not a sign you’ve missed something obvious.

Finding the right support isn’t an admission of failure. It’s what happens when you’ve noticed something needs more than you can give on your own, and you’ve decided to do something about it.

Why “I work with adults and teens” isn’t quite the same thing

A lot of therapists are properly trained, properly qualified, and genuinely good at what they do with adult clients. Many of them will say they also see young people, and that’s often true in a general sense.

But most therapeutic training is built around the adult brain, how adults process thought, regulate emotion and talk about what’s happening to them. Working with teenagers tends to get added on afterwards, as an extra module or a few days of extra learning, rather than being the whole shape of someone’s training from the start.

That’s not a criticism of their qualifications. It’s just a different thing. A teenager isn’t a smaller, less developed adult. Their brain handles stress, impulse and emotion differently, and they often can’t, or won’t, talk about what’s going on in the way an adult would. Working well with that takes skills that tend to be built through years of sitting with teenagers directly, not through an add on course layered onto adult training.

What experience with teens actually looks like

This is where it gets harder to judge from a website, because most sites say similar things. A few questions tend to tell you more than a page of credentials.

Ask how much of their current caseload is teenagers, not whether they’ve worked with a few over the years. Ask how they handle it when a teenager won’t talk, because that happens often, and someone experienced won’t be thrown by silence. Ask how they think about safeguarding, and how they’ll handle confidentiality with you as the parent, because that line needs to be clear and held carefully, not vague or an afterthought.

Ask, too, how they talk about your teenager. Do they talk about symptoms and a modality that will apply to them, or do they talk about getting to know who your teenager actually is, underneath whatever’s showing on the surface. That difference tends to tell you a great deal.

Be wary of language that sounds reassuring but doesn’t tell you very much on its own, confidence building, mindset work, support for young people. Those phrases can mean something real, or they can mean very little. It’s fair to ask for an actual example, a time they worked with a teenager on something similar, and what that looked like in practice. A therapist with real experience will have stories to tell, not just phrases to offer.

The fear underneath this search

Most parents I meet are afraid of getting this wrong, of choosing someone, going through the awkward first sessions, and finding out months later that it wasn’t the right fit after all, while their teenager’s trust in the whole process takes a knock along the way.

That fear is reasonable. Teenagers don’t always warm quickly to a new adult, and a mismatch can leave them more guarded than before, not less. It’s part of why the questions above matter so much before you start, rather than working it out as you go.

It’s also why an initial call matters. A short conversation before anything begins gives you a feel for how someone thinks about your teenager, and whether that fits with what your son or daughter needs.

We can’t fix our teenagers, but we can learn to understand them

That’s the heart of what I’d want any parent reading this to take away. You’re not looking for someone to fix your teenager, because there’s nothing broken that needs fixing. You’re looking for someone who can help your teenager, and you, understand what’s actually going on underneath the behaviour you’re seeing.

That understanding is what allows a teenager to feel safe enough to stop masking and start being honest about what’s really happening for them. And it’s what allows you, as a parent, to stop second guessing every conversation and start trusting what you’re seeing again.

Where to go from here

If this has helped you feel clearer about what to look for, that’s enough for now. You don’t need to decide anything today.

When you’re ready, I offer an initial call where we can talk through what’s going on for your teenager, and I can explain how I work with both teens and the parents raising them. You can read more here about how I support highly sensitive teens, or if it’s your own experience as a parent you want to talk through first, there’s more here on support for highly sensitive parents.

Common Questions

How do I know if a therapist has real experience with teenagers, not just training?

Ask directly how much of their current work is with teenagers, rather than how many years they’ve been qualified overall. Someone with genuine experience will usually talk easily about the specific challenges of working with teens, like silence, reluctance or testing boundaries, because they’ve sat with it often.

What if a therapist’s website talks about mindset work or confidence building, does that matter?

Not necessarily, but it’s worth asking what sits behind those words. Ask for a real example of a teenager they’ve worked with and what actually changed, rather than taking the phrase at face value. If they can describe it with specifics, that tells you far more than the words on their website.

What should I ask a therapist before booking my teenager in?

Ask how they handle confidentiality and safeguarding, how much of their work is specifically with teenagers, and how they’ll involve you as a parent along the way. Their answers will tell you a lot about how they actually work, not just what their website says.

My teenager won’t talk to anyone, will therapy even work?

A therapist experienced with teenagers expects some reluctance and won’t push for conversation before trust has built. Much of the early work is about building enough safety for a teenager to feel able to speak honestly, which often takes a little time.

Should I look for someone who specialises only in teenagers?

Not necessarily, but you want someone whose experience with teenagers is substantial and current, not a small part of a mostly adult caseload. The depth of that experience tends to matter more than whether teenagers are the only age group they see.

Life360 and other location tracking apps have become such a normal part of parenting that I think we can sometimes forget to stop and ask ourselves what sits underneath our need to know where our children are.

The reasons are usually very understandable. We want to keep them safe. We want to know where they are. Sometimes they tell us they like us knowing too. And when the world can feel like an increasingly frightening place, having that little circle on a screen can feel reassuring.

I can completely understand the temptation.

In fact, there is a part of me that would absolutely love to know where my boys are now they are at university. There is something comforting about being able to see where they are when they are no longer living at home. It can feel like a little connection to them when they are physically somewhere else.

But the more I have thought about it, the more I have questioned whether knowing would actually make me feel any calmer.

Knowing where they are isn’t the same as knowing how they are

This is perhaps the bit that has made me stop and think.

If I knew where my boys were, I would have information, but I wouldn’t necessarily have any context.

I would know the location, but not what was happening there. I wouldn’t know whether they were having a brilliant evening with friends, whether they were feeling lonely, whether they had simply gone somewhere for a coffee, or whether there was something they were struggling with.

And I wonder what I would do with that information.

If I saw they were somewhere I didn’t recognise, would I start wondering why they were there? If they were out later than I expected, would I message them? Would I check again? Would I find myself looking at the app simply because I could?

I know myself well enough to recognise that there is a possibility that knowing their location could actually give my anxiety more information to work with, rather than taking it away.

I might think I was reassuring myself, when actually I was creating more questions.

When reassurance becomes something we rely on

I recently came across a BBC article by Kirstie Brewer about parents whose children had gone to university, and it really resonated with some of the things I had been thinking about. BBC News: Parents, tracking and university life

What particularly stayed with me was the way some parents described becoming involved in university Facebook and WhatsApp groups. What had initially been useful for practical information had, for some, started to fuel anxiety. One parent described checking his son’s location to make sure he was going out enough and finding friends.

That really made me stop.

Because it made me think about how easily information can become reassurance, and how easily reassurance can become something we rely on.

You might not have been worried about your child making friends until you read that another parent’s child isn’t making friends.

You might not have wondered whether your teenager was spending too much time in their room until someone else raised the question.

You might not have felt the need to check where they were until you had the ability to check.

Suddenly, there is more information available to us than ever before, but I’m not sure that more information necessarily makes us feel more secure.

Sometimes it might do the opposite.

What happens when we already know?

There is something else I find uncomfortable about tracking.

If I already know where my child has been, what they have been doing or what time they came home, what happens to the conversation when they return?

Perhaps I don’t need to ask.

Perhaps they know I already know.

And that makes me wonder whether something is lost.

Part of building a relationship with our teenagers and young adults is allowing them to choose what they tell us. To come home and tell us about their evening because they want to share it, rather than because we already have the information and are asking them to fill in the gaps.

There is a difference between being interested in their lives and monitoring their lives.

And I don’t think that difference is always as obvious as we might imagine.

The BBC article also included the perspective of a psychologist who raised concerns about constant checking, tracking and intervening. The suggestion was that while these things may soothe a parent in the short term, they can inadvertently communicate to a young adult that we aren’t sure they can cope without us.

That made me think about what we are communicating when we track.

Not what we intend to communicate, because I think the intention is very often love.

But what our young person might experience.

The uncomfortable part of letting go

As our children get older, they are supposed to become less dependent on us.

That is what we’ve been preparing them for all these years.

We want them to make decisions. We want them to experience freedom. We want them to learn how to navigate situations without us immediately stepping in.

And yet when that actually starts happening, it can be incredibly uncomfortable.

Because independence doesn’t just mean that they can do more for themselves.

It also means that we know less.

I think that is the part that can be difficult to admit.

There is a particular vulnerability in not knowing where your child is, who they are with, what they are doing or whether everything is okay. When they were small, we could see so much of their lives. We knew where they were because we were taking them there. We knew who they were with. We knew when they were home.

Then, gradually, that changes.

And perhaps tracking can become a way of holding onto a little piece of that knowledge.

Of course, safety matters

I don’t think this is as simple as saying that parents shouldn’t track their teenagers.

There are situations where there may be very specific and genuine reasons for knowing where a young person is, particularly where there are safeguarding concerns or a known risk to their wellbeing.

Every family is different, and there are circumstances where safety has to come first.

For me, this isn’t really about deciding whether tracking is right or wrong.

It’s about becoming curious about why we are doing it.

What are we hoping it will give us?

Are we responding to a genuine safety concern, or are we trying to soothe the discomfort of not knowing?

And perhaps those two things can sometimes feel very similar.

What am I actually looking for?

This is the question I’ve been left with since my boys went to university.

Because part of me would still love to know where they are.

I don’t think that part of me has disappeared just because they have grown up. I am still their mum. I still worry about them. I still want them to be safe.

But I also know that having access to their location wouldn’t necessarily give me what I’m really looking for.

What I want is to know that they are okay.

And a little dot on a screen can’t really tell me that.

In fact, without context, it might leave me with more questions than answers. It might make me want to message when perhaps they are busy living their life. It might make me more aware of the things I don’t know rather than reassuring me about the things I do.

And there is something quite important in recognising that.

Because as our children move towards adulthood, perhaps our job isn’t to know everything.

Perhaps it is to build a relationship where they know we are there if they need us, while also trusting them to have a life that we aren’t part of every minute of the day.

That doesn’t always feel easy.

There is a part of me that would still like to look at that little circle and know exactly where my boys are.

But maybe learning to live with not knowing is part of my journey too.

They are learning how to become independent.

And I am learning how to let them.

Books, podcasts, social media, experts and influencers. Every day there seems to be another post telling you what ADHD is, what it isn’t, what you should be doing and what you’re doing wrong.

Some of it is excellent. Some of it is based on one person’s experience and shared as though it’s the answer for everyone.

It’s no wonder so many parents tell me they feel overwhelmed.

When you’re trying to make sense of it all

Every day, I work alongside teenagers and their families, helping them navigate the challenges that adolescence and ADHD can bring. Spending so much time listening to young people and parents means I see, first hand, how different every ADHD journey can be.

That’s because ADHD isn’t simple.

There isn’t one way that ADHD looks. There isn’t one strategy that works for every young person, and there certainly isn’t one way to support a teenager with ADHD.

There is no one size fits all ADHD teenager.

So there can’t be a one size fits all approach to supporting them.

ADHD and the teenage years

Teenage years are complicated enough without ADHD.

As parents, we’re trying to work out what’s part of normal adolescent development, what’s influenced by ADHD and what’s simply unique to our child.

Sometimes it’s obvious. Often it isn’t.

That’s what makes parenting a teenager with ADHD, or one you suspect may have ADHD, so challenging.

You’re not just trying to understand ADHD. You’re trying to understand your teenager.

Not somebody else’s teenager.

Not the teenager described in a book, a podcast or on social media.

Your teenager.

Their strengths.

Their challenges.

Their personality.

Their way of experiencing the world.

Because understanding your teenager is very different from simply understanding ADHD.

Understanding comes before strategies

When parents come to see me, they’re often hoping for practical strategies that will make life easier.

Strategies absolutely have their place, but I’ve learnt that they work best when they’re built on understanding.

When we understand what’s happening beneath the behaviour, we stop asking, “Why won’t they?” and begin asking, “What’s making this difficult?”

That small shift can change everything.

It helps us respond with curiosity instead of frustration. It helps our teenagers feel understood instead of judged. It reminds us that many young people with ADHD are already trying much harder than we realise.

Understanding comes before strategies.

Why Vicki and I created these workshops

That’s why I’ve teamed up with Vicki Clark from Neon Mind to create two workshops for parents of teenagers with ADHD, and for those who are beginning to wonder whether ADHD might explain the challenges they’re seeing.

Between us, we bring two different but complementary perspectives.

I spend my days working alongside teenagers and their families, helping them make sense of adolescence and the additional challenges that ADHD can bring.

Vicki is an ADHD coach, and the parent of neurodivergent teenagers. She brings both professional knowledge and lived experience of supporting ADHD every day.

Together, we combine professional expertise with lived experience to help parents cut through the noise and better understand their teenagers.

We’re not here to tell you how to parent your teenager.

We’re here to help you understand them.

Because when understanding changes, everything else can begin to change too.

Our workshops can be attended individually, or together if you’d like to build a deeper understanding over both evenings.

If you’d like to join us, we’d love to welcome you.

Find out more and book your place here.

At the start…..

Two years ago, my oldest received his place at university and the organising began.

Looking back now, I can also see just how much that first year changed both of us. I’ve written more about what I learnt from that experience in my blog about my son’s first year at university.

Researching.

Shopping.

Endless lists of everything he would need.

I even visited the town where he would be studying, just to get a feel for the area and a sense of where my boy would be spending the next three years of his life.

At the time, I thought I was preparing him.

Looking back, I can see I was coping.

And then I realised….

We unpacked his room, went out for lunch and then it was time to leave.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

In that moment, I saw the realisation in his eyes. This was it. It was time for us to leave so he could take this step into his chosen future.

Walking away from him was the hardest thing I have ever done as a mum.

Not because I didn’t want him to go. I did. This was everything he had worked so hard for.

But because, in that moment, I realised I had no more organising to prop me up.

What I’ve come to understand about parenting transitions

So here I am, two years later, with my youngest about to leave on his own university adventure.

What I’ve come to understand about myself is this.

Sometimes all the organising isn’t really about the practical tasks at all.

Sometimes it’s the way I protect myself from what’s coming next.

I’ve noticed myself returning to the lists, the organising, the planning, the preparing. This time, with more practical knowledge from experience, but still with a heaviness in my heart.

Because I know that, at some point in the very near future, the organising will stop.

And that’s when the real work begins.

The work of navigating the emotions of letting go.

Looking beyond university

This experience made me wonder how many of us, as parents, who are so good at putting our children front and centre of our lives, use the practical day to day expectations, especially during times of transition, as a way of coping with the emotional weight they can bring.

And I’m not just talking about university.

September brings all kinds of changes, whether your child is starting school, moving to secondary school or beginning another academic year. I shared more about navigating those seasonal changes in Parenting Teens Through Change: September Survival Guide.

They are all important steps forward for our children, but they often ask something of us too.

We have to readjust.

We have to learn to navigate the ever changing landscape of what it means to be their parent.

More than just a parent

I’ve come to realise that every step forward in our children’s lives is another step for us to take stock, recalibrate and understand ourselves a little better. Letting go isn’t something we do once. I’ve written before about how it happens in stages throughout our children’s lives, not just when they leave home in Letting Go as a Parent of a Teenager.

The emotions we feel deeply, or sometimes try to pretend aren’t there, are real.

They are expected.

When our children finally fly the nest, we no longer have somewhere to turn to preoccupy ourselves.

That’s when we have to remember who we are, not only as a parent, but as a person too.

Clare x

If this resonated with you…

Parenting teenagers isn’t just about supporting them. It’s also about understanding ourselves. If you’re looking for support, you’ll find my latest workshops, events and ways to work with me here.

Like many parents, my first reaction was simple.

If it keeps children safer online, surely that’s a good thing.

But the more I’ve thought about it, and the more I’ve considered the teenagers and parents I support every week, the more I’ve realised that my thoughts are a little more complex than that.

The question isn’t simply whether the social media ban is right or wrong. It’s whether we’re preparing older teenagers for the digital world they’ll inevitably return to.

What do older teenagers need from us if we genuinely want to prepare them to navigate the digital world safely?

For me, the answer isn’t simply a ban. It’s helping them develop the understanding, confidence and digital literacy they’ll need long after the ban has ended.

Why so many parents welcome the social media ban

There is no doubt that social media has become one of the biggest challenges facing parents in this digital age. We have witnessed devastating consequences when young people, without the maturity or insight to manage what is often adult content, fall prey to unscrupulous individuals, harmful communities and algorithms designed to keep them engaged.

I completely understand why parents of younger children are welcoming this decision. Many have spent years trying to delay smartphones and social media, having observed the negative consequences these devices can have on developing brains.

It is a tough one to parent, so the relief must be palpable.

And I celebrate the positive impact of the ban for you and your children.

Where my perspective differs

Where my point of view differs is not in wanting to keep young people safe.

We all want that.

It is in how we support older teenagers who are already living in a digital world.

For those older teens who have already developed habits, friendships and ways of communicating online, I do not believe this ban alone is enough. Nor do I believe that all under 16s should be treated as one group without considering age, brain development and emotional maturity.

Instead, I see an opportunity.

An opportunity to teach digital literacy.

An opportunity to help teenagers understand the realities of the online world, to question what they’re seeing, recognise when they’re being influenced, and build the confidence to make informed choices for themselves.

Because when they turn 16 they will be re-exposed to these platforms and everything they have to offer.

If they have not had the opportunity to develop the skills to navigate them safely, will they be any better prepared?

This is where I believe parenting in a digital world remains just as important as ever.

Understanding the teenage brain

The ban fails to fully recognise the realities of the teenage brain. Adolescence is a time when young people naturally pull towards developing their own identities, preferences and choices, which do not always align with the adults in their world, and neither should they.

Some teenagers will inevitably look for ways around the ban. If that happens, they may become more vulnerable because those conversations are happening out of sight.

At the same time, I think we should also be asking where the pressure is on the technology companies themselves to take responsibility for the way their platforms are designed to keep vulnerable young people engaged.

What can parents of older teenagers do?

If you are a parent of an older teenager, especially one who already has an online presence, don’t assume that once social media is switched off everything will become easier.

Because, in my opinion, it won’t.

For younger children, there is truth in the phrase, “You don’t miss what you never had.” Delaying access to smartphones and social media is likely to offer them greater protection, particularly if they have never become reliant on these platforms in the first place.

But if you are a parent of an older teen who will be impacted by this ban, get curious.

Get curious about:

• How your teenager uses social media.
• Whether it is where they communicate with friends.
• Whether it is where they feel part of a community.
• Whether they have an online presence that is important to them.

For some young people, particularly those who are neurodiverse, social media has become an important way of self-regulating and processing after busy days or when they are experiencing sensory overload. I am not saying this is the preferred way, but for some it has become an important part of how they manage their daily lives.

The answers to these questions will help you understand how your teenager experiences the digital world, how they may be impacted by the ban, and how likely they might be to look for ways around it.

Please never think, “My child wouldn’t do that.”

Many teenagers are far more capable than we give them credit for.

We are all hoping, none more than I, that this ban will improve young people’s wellbeing. I genuinely hope it does.

But for some older teenagers, the short-term impact may be very different as they adapt to rules imposed on them without feeling that their own views, experiences or needs have been considered.

The conversation doesn’t end with a ban

For me, this has never been about being for or against the ban.

It is about recognising that a ban on its own will not prepare older teenagers for the online world they will inevitably enter.

Helping our teenagers develop digital literacy, recognise manipulation, understand the impact of social media on their wellbeing, and know how to keep themselves safer online will always matter.

As analogue parents raising a digital generation, we cannot have all the answers.

But we can stay curious, keep the conversation going, and help our teenagers build the understanding and confidence they’ll need long after this ban has ended.

Last bank holiday weekend, my husband and I took our newly acquired campervan, lovingly named Snowdrop (the only other female in my house), to a much-anticipated wellness festival called ‘The Big Retreat’.

When we bought the tickets last year, we had never imagined we would actually own a campervan by the time the festival came around, so the whole experience felt exciting and symbolic in ways I hadn’t expected.

Quick trips away on our own were few and far between while my boys were growing up. No other reason than the practicalities and childcare support being limited, both geographically and for other, more complex reasons.

So going away now feels lovely, but also alien.

One of the things I’m realising as a mum of a 20 year old and an 18 year old is that I struggle not to be ‘mum’. Recognising myself again after all these years has been, and still is, a challenge.

The Moment It Hit Me

I was having the most amazing time, sitting in the sun listening to live music with nowhere to be.

Then I turned to one side and watched a group of little ones dancing with abandon to the music, running around and being free and joyful in the moment.

And it hit me.

I won’t be a mum of little ones again, watching over them as they play, looking after them and caring for them in that way.

The irony was that the band playing at the time were a genre called ‘misery folk’, because suddenly I couldn’t stop crying.

My ever-tuned-in husband noticed immediately what was making me sad and simply held my hand. What he said next stayed with me.

“You’ll always be a mum. That will never stop. It will just change.”

Parenting in the Dark

The tears have been flowing on and off since then, and I’m letting them.

Because alongside the sadness and nostalgia is also immense pride.

I’m incredibly proud of the boys my children have become and the young adults they continue to grow into. I know the time, energy, and attention I poured into their early years is now reaping dividends.

But if I’m honest, I also know that part of why I’m finding this stage so hard is because I spent so many years parenting in the dark.

I didn’t have a maternal blueprint to guide me. No safe space to land. No mother who could reassure or support me emotionally in the way I needed.

So much of my motherhood journey has been about building my own framework alongside my husband while carrying the fear of getting it wrong.

And when you’ve had to work that hard to create safety, connection, and emotional awareness for your children, letting go can feel incredibly exposing.

Learning to Let Go

I’m realising now that letting go is not about loving our children less.

It’s about allowing the relationship to evolve.

As our children move into adulthood, we have to get comfortable with not knowing. Comfortable with them making choices we may not agree with. Comfortable with them making mistakes.

Because they need to learn on their journey just as we did on ours.

I will always love my boys to the very depths of my being, just as I know you love yours.

And I am also learning that the greatest gift we can give our children now is to continue living our own lives fully, so they can live theirs too.

And that is going to take some practice.

As a parent of two boys, one having flown the nest, and one about to, there is a lot I can say about ‘letting go’. Namely, it’s tough, requires constant navigation and a need to be self aware and reflect on your own feelings and behaviour moment by moment. Just because I have done it once, does not mean it’s seamless second time round. Both my boys are incredibly different in personality and how they navigate their journey’s.

I want to share with you below my learning from my second journey letting go as a parent, and what it really looks like.

• Stepping back with healthcare, watching my boy take himself into his hospital appointment on his own.
• Taking him to his uni offer day and watching him go into the session alone, deciding not to go to the parent session, as it’s his course, his journey.
• Having a couple of nights away and leaving him at home to manage the routines of training and his job.
• Not tracking his every move.
• Building up communication where he eventually responds to messages, and trusting that he will.

And how do I know this is working for us?

• He listened to instructions in his appointment and is managing his own health.
• He asked questions in his uni session, ones he admitted he would not have asked had he known I was there too.
• He’s learning how to manage his time, look after himself, and take responsibility, without me trying not to ask if he’s done everything and getting the predictable eye roll.

He’s stepping away while I’m letting go. Both need to happen without ceremony, without big demonstrations, just quietly allowing them to walk away from us so they can learn to focus on their own needs.

This is the best gift we can give our teens. Despite the fears, the anxieties, and the pull to stay involved, we learn to trust them, even if they make mistakes along the way.

Because if we don’t trust them through our actions, the words saying we do become meaningless. And then how do they learn to trust themselves?

We are learning together, one step at a time.

The growing influence of the manosphere and teenagers is something many parents are beginning to notice, even if they cannot always name it. Online spaces where certain influencers promote rigid ideas about masculinity, power and relationships are reaching young people more easily than ever before.

You may have seen the documentary Into the Manosphere by Louis Theroux, where he explores the world of several social media influencers operating in the UK and the US. What struck me most while watching it was not simply the content itself, but the scale of its reach and the confidence with which it is delivered. These voices are no longer sitting quietly on the fringes of the internet. They are finding their way directly into the daily lives of teenagers, and it’s deeply concerning.

Over the past few years in particular, I have noticed these themes appearing more frequently in conversations with the teenagers and parents I work with. Many young people are encountering content that presents very narrow ideas about gender, success and power. Influencers such as Andrew Tate are often referenced by teenagers themselves when these conversations arise. The content is frequently packaged in a way that feels persuasive, entertaining or even aspirational.

This is why the conversation about the manosphere and teenagers matters.

Why banning phones will not solve the problem

When we look at how social media works, it becomes clear that simply banning phones or restricting access rarely solves the deeper issue. Teenagers are naturally curious. If something feels exciting, controversial or rebellious, it can quickly become even more appealing when adults try to remove it entirely.

‘Instead, the more powerful response often lies in conversation.’

Helping teenagers question what they see online

Teenagers are still developing the ability to question what they see online. When content is presented confidently and repeatedly, it can easily be absorbed without much reflection. But when young people have space to talk about what they are seeing, something important begins to happen.

They start to test ideas, explore perspectives and think more critically about the messages they are receiving.

The impact on both boys and girls

Much of the public conversation focuses on boys when discussing the manosphere. However, it is important to remember that girls are navigating these spaces too. Many are encountering online environments where misogyny is normalised and where their worth is judged primarily through appearance.

These messages shape expectations on both sides. They influence how boys see themselves and how girls come to understand relationships.

Staying part of the conversation

As a parent of teenage boys, I know that these conversations are not always straightforward. They are often met with eye rolls, long pauses or the suggestion that I simply do not understand. But they still matter.

‘Because when teenagers feel able to speak openly, they are more likely to question what they are seeing rather than quietly absorbing it.’

The reality is that online voices will always compete for our teenagers’ attention. We cannot control every message they encounter. What we can do is remain present enough in their lives that the conversations about those messages still find their way back to us.

And perhaps that is where our influence truly sits. Not in trying to shield teenagers from the online world, but in staying connected enough that we remain part of the conversation.

A final thought for parents

For many parents, the influence of the manosphere can feel unsettling. It raises real questions about what our teenagers are absorbing online and how those messages may shape the way they see themselves and others.

But teenagers are not simply passive recipients of everything they encounter. When they have space to question what they see, talk things through and explore different perspectives, they begin to develop their own ability to think critically about the world around them.

That matters, because the conversations our teenagers are hearing today are quietly shaping the relationships they will build tomorrow.

Which means this is not only about protecting young people from harmful ideas online. It is also about helping them develop the awareness and understanding that will shape how they relate to others in the future.

‘In a world where so many voices are competing for their attention, the relationship they have with us still carries weight.’

And sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is simply stay connected enough that the conversations about what they are seeing continue to find their way back to us.

You can read more guidance around parenting teens in a digital age here

When the Hard Words Need Saying

This is not an easy piece to write.

It activates many emotions, guilt, hurt, and rejection, feelings many of us learn to carry quietly. Yet I’ve come to believe that the words we hesitate to say, for fear of judgement, are often the ones that most need to be spoken, even when they may be misunderstood.

Each year, as Mother’s Day approaches, conversations about gratitude and celebration grow louder. Yet beneath them sit many quieter experiences, stories that are rarely spoken but deeply felt. This is a reflection I find myself returning to, because our relationships with motherhood, whether as parents or children, continue to evolve over time.

This year I made a promise to myself: to be more visible. To stop shrinking, hiding, or pretending I am okay when something doesn’t feel true for me.

It isn’t a dramatic shift. It’s simply a continuation of something I’ve been exploring in my writing for some time, how people pleasing pulls us away from ourselves, and how living on the edges of our own lives ultimately serves no one, including those we love most.

I want to share something personal about why Mother’s Day looks different for me now, and how complicated Mother’s Day relationships can shape the way we experience this time of year.

The Expectations We Don’t Always Speak About

For many people, Mother’s Day is joyful and meaningful. But for others navigating complicated Mother’s Day relationships, it can carry unspoken expectations and emotional complexity.  What may have begun with heartfelt intention has, over time, become shaped by tradition, marketing, and performance, a day that can unintentionally measure love through gestures rather than lived relationship.

I say this as a mum of two decades who deeply loves motherhood. Parenting has stretched and humbled me in ways nothing else has, and I love my boys unconditionally. Because of that, I don’t want their love expressed through obligation or expectation on a single day each year.

‘Love reveals itself in everyday moments, not through pressure or performance.’

A Daughter’s Experience

My relationship with Mother’s Day is also shaped by my experience as a daughter.

For many years, I followed what felt expected. I sent the cards, said the words, and played my part, even when those gestures didn’t reflect the reality of my relationship with my own mother. Over time, I realised that continuing to do so felt increasingly disconnected from my truth.

Last year, I chose to step away from that pattern, not as rebellion, but as honesty. Repeating rituals that didn’t align with my lived experience felt like slowly abandoning myself. What might appear small from the outside carried a deep emotional cost within.

Making Space for Different Stories

Mother’s Day now feels poignant in a different way. It highlights how varied and complex mother–child relationships can be, especially for those living within complicated Mother’s Day relationships that rarely fit the traditional narrative.

Not every relationship is simple or nurturing, and recognising that reality can be an important part of individual healing.

If you have a loving and supportive relationship with your mother, that is something truly precious, please celebrate her fully.

But if this day brings mixed feelings, distance, or quiet grief, please know you are not alone. There is space for honesty alongside love, and for boundaries alongside compassion.

Choosing What Feels True

‘Being a parent, or being parented, should not require performance or proof. Love does not become more real because it is publicly displayed, nor less real because it is privately held.’

So this Mother’s Day, I’ll spend the day in my own way: quietly, by the sea, without cards or expectations. Still knowing I am loved as a mum, and that love exists whether or not it is marked by a date on the calendar.

Where This Connects to My Work

My work with teenagers, helps me to learn how sensitive and perceptive they are to the emotional worlds around them. Supporting teens has never only been about changing their behaviour; it has been about helping families understand the unseen patterns shaping connection, communication, and safety.

Increasingly, this means supporting parents to hold compassion and accountability for their own emotional wellbeing, because when we reconnect with ourselves, our children no longer have to carry what was never theirs to hold.

Love Clare x

If you’re new here and this reflection resonated, you can learn more about how I support teenagers and parents here.