There are ways to temper your toughest critic and take constructive control of your feelings.
Verified by Psychology Today
Working with adolescents
Our relationship with food is also about our relationship with dependence and independence, power and powerlessness.
We do young people no favours if we pretend that the future is always bright. It isn't, and they know that.
Perhaps because we project our feelings about our parents onto the institution we call "school," our relationship with that institution easily becomes stuck.
We do young people no favors when in our desire to help, we imply that changing their behavior will be a substitute for finding meaning in their lives.
Playing the role of perennial victim is a roundabout way of persecuting other people, taking out our anger on them without taking any responsibility for that anger.
We get angry because we care, and given the right kind of support, can channel that anger into kindness.
Why do children and young people sometimes behave in such unpleasant, out-of-character ways? One way of dealing with a frightening situation or person is to act like that person.
In our desire to support young people, the danger is that we find ourselves suggesting that everything is OK because all problems can be fixed.
Young people can go forward but they can't go back. They're like refugees, searching for new meaning, for a new purpose, for a new home.
Boys and men may need to disempower other people and triumph over envy in order not to feel inadequate themselves.
The way parents and parent-figures relate to the idea of 'mess' will have a profound effect upon the children and young people they so want to support.
Like adults, young people are trying to find meaning in their lives. And when they can't find it, they despair.
Young people never go to therapy because they want to change. They go hoping to stay the same but hoping - secretly - that someone will understand why they don't want to change.
To what extent do sex, death, and hatred end up as unmentionable anxieties hidden away inside a young person? How do we understand, and how do we respond?
Instead of always giving in or always trying to crush it, we have to understand aggression as essentially defensive, as a kind of anxiety, a kind of panic.
Fame or friendship? Fortune or family? When we look back on our lives, on all our youthful promise, what really matters?
If, realistically, we have little control over children watching porn, how do we help them understand what they're watching so that they're not damaged when it comes to real life?
We rush to diagnose rather than listen, panicking when things don't go according to plan. Anxiety is normal and needs to be understood.
Why make up stories, insisting that they're true? What do young people's lies mean and how should we respond?
How to make sense of the adult world without having the identity of a traditional profession? How to develop a sense of personal agency in a world where the rules keep changing?
We avoid having to acknowledge our own baby tendencies when someone else unwittingly expresses them for us.
Therapists listen all the time for anger and despair, for sadness and hatred. But when a young person appears to be feeling nothing? To be entirely empty of feelings? What then?
We pride ourselves on liking young people. So when we inevitably find ourselves disliking some young people, it disturbs our equilibrium. What's going on? How do we move forward?
Young people spend hours teasing each other and being teased. Why? Why do they do it? And how do they learn when to stop?
When young people spurn our best attempts to love and support them, why do they do this?
For young people, all problems provoke primitive anxieties of betrayal: reminders of an original betrayal they can't consciously remember but can't help feeling strongly about.
"I've been self-harming! I think I might be depressed! I'm having suicidal thoughts!" Sometimes these are simply ways of saying, "I'm not a child any more. Take me seriously!"
To what extent do schools present girls with a choice between working and mothering: one seen as laudable, the other as a consolation prize for academic also-rans?
Young people are more interested in our failures than in our successes. But do we dare to tell them about all the ways in which we've failed?
Like so many well-meaning behavioural interventions, the idea of self-esteem is simplistic. Without a secure sense of self, good experiences are likely to wash over us.
Nick Luxmoore is a counselor at King Alfred's College, in the U.K.