Is Anna a Bad Banana?

I am a parent who once had teens. This family story is my gift of hope to those of you struggling through the adolescent years.

After my car was idled and the big door shut, I could clearly hear the muffled sounds of chaos in the room above the garage. It wasn’t the usual shuffling about of a kid doing kid things. These sounds activated my mother-meter, forcing the arrow into the red zone. I flew up the stairs and flung open the door to Anna’s bedroom. The cobalt wall was peppered with holes the size of fists. White drywall bits and dust powdered the floor where a math test with a big “F” was circled in red.

“God, I hate that teacher. She’s out to get me,” thrashed Anna, her youthful face swollen from tears. Her well-trained muscles wound tight. Bam! Her right fist smashed the wall again. I flinched. “I went to her after class. She wouldn’t give me the time of day, just turned her face to her papers and shooed me away.”

She flung another paper at me. Her science test with a big, red F. Another fist-punch to the wall.

“Knock it off, Anna,” I screamed, my bluster countering her bluster, hoping my volume would outweigh her height and might. “This may be your room, but this is our house. Sit down and cool off. I want you downstairs in thirty minutes to help set the table for dinner. We’ll talk about school later.” I turned sharply on my heels, leaving the room before my knocking knees exposed my fear.

Little did Anna know her math and science teachers had called me earlier that day. She didn’t just fail a test in each class. She was failing each class. Failing! Our “E for exceptional” student and stand-out athlete had fallen down a dark hole. 

Somehow we managed to honor family mealtime but ate in quiet. Two little dogs clung to my feet. Big Margo remained wrapped around the toilet. She was our canine barometer of household tension.

When night finally came, I tiptoed to Anna’s room and knocked quietly on her door. An invitation came to lie beside her, in the dark, where neither of us could see the damage from her earlier frenzy. Foster dog April snuggled between us and began to snore.

I felt a dim tremor move across the bed. The silence was broken by quiet tears and small hiccups as Anna tried to hold back the flood. “Mom, I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t look like me. I don’t act like me.” With a deep breath followed by growing sobs, she continued, “I see what I want, but I can’t get it. I can’t move in the direction I know I should. Instead, I do what I shouldn’t. Something is happening inside me, and I can’t control it.”

Neither could Joe nor me. We felt helpless as an avalanche of changes bowled over Anna, burying her self-confidence and restraint. Rage had replaced reason. Truancy had usurped conformity.

Joe and I applied the same, “I’ll show you who’s boss,” discipline measures from which we’d been raised. We punished her by taking away the things she cherished. We sent her to her room in teenage timeouts to “think about what she’d done.” We detached from family and friends to avoid judgment. We’d been raised to suck it up, to portray an image of a perfect family.  Intervention was for sissies.

Scrolling through Pinterest one day, I came across a quote by Albert Einstein painted in white on weathered wood. “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” Had he lived our life?

Joe and I decided to buck the system to which we’d been rooted and turned to our family physician for help. He gave Anna a rigorous physical, more in-depth than the annual student athlete exam required for high school. He gathered vials of blood. When nothing pointed to a physical issue, he arranged for Anna to meet with a behavioral health specialist.

Dr. Bonnie conducted her own thorough investigation, contacting current and former teachers, coaches, and parents of friends. Joe and I completed surveys. Anna completed cognitive tests on the computer and by hand. The 11-page report outlined a diagnosis of anxiety and the neurodevelopment disorder Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), hyperactive-type. We finally had an explanation for the change in her behavior! She wasn’t a bad banana after all!  

Anna began a trial of behavior modifications and medications. We attended individual and family counseling. We found strategies to help us react less and listen more. We learned to support each other through the messiness of imperfection. The renewed commitment to our collective wellbeing provided the path for Anna to thrive and our family to reconnect.

I tell this story now because the holidays are a time of reflection and longing. Yearning is a good thing. It means there was something in your child from the past that is worth reviving. To me, that means hope.

Please don’t struggle alone. There are many options for help.

(P.S. Anna gave me the go ahead to write this gift to you. Her wish is similar to mine—that other teens and families find a path to peace.)

1.       Tame the gift monster this holiday season. Start a new family tradition. Gather every holiday and winter related children’s book from your kids’ book pile. Supplement with books borrowed from the library. Wrap each. (I use newspaper and colorful comics from the Sunday paper and adorn them with bits of ribbon salvaged from other celebrations.) Place them under a Christmas tree or in a decorated box. Each nigh, allow your child to pick a book to unwrap and read.

2.       Dessert that delights! That’s how I describe the artfully designed cookies from Susie Home Baker. Take a simple scroll through her Facebook site and you, too, will marvel at the whimsy and detail she is able to capture on her edible canvas. These are the most “customized” custom cookies I’ve seen. You may find yourself in a quandary. Should you savor the melt-in-your-mouth confections or frame and hang them in your kitchen?!

3.       Get fit and raise funds! The Nature Conservancy (TNC) is hosting a (virtual) 70-mile Walk Challenge during the month of January to raise awareness and money to help nature. This is a “community” event run through TNC’s Facebook Group page. Walk alone or walk with a friend you’ve met through the group page. Gather your family and get outside (or inside at the local mall if the weather outside if frightful).

4.       Got shipping boxes and paper filler? Don’t recycle them, yet. Turn them into boredom busters for pets and kids! Visit Rescue Dogs 101 and their page on indoor games. I’ve already played the muffin tin game with my dog, Shiloh. When we tried “hide the treat in crumpled paper in a box” game, Checkers, our cat, was interested, too!

5.       One way to bring more peace to your home at the holidays is to actually design a home for peace. One of my all-time favorite interior designers is Sheree Vincent of Fusion Designed. Arresting, relaxing, inviting are words to describe the way she marries modern design aesthetic with wellbeing. Listen to a recent interview with Sheree, “Put the OM in your Home with Feng Shui,”  as she discusses designing your home as a renewing force.

6.       Do you create New Year’s resolutions but fall short in achievement? Perhaps the failure is not in setting the goals but not knowing how to harness the hope that inspired you to create them. I’m excited about this upcoming webinar, The Science and Power of Hope, with Chan M. Hellman, Ph.D., where hope is defined as a skill that can be learned. It’s FREE! January 10, 2024. Even if you can’t attend, be sure to register to receive the recording.

Are you struggling to have a conversation with your teen daughter that is more than a one-word grunt? Do you long for open communication and deeper relationship? Are you wondering, “Why won’t she talk to me?” The 100^th episode of Raising Her Confidently features podcast founder and mom, Jeannie, and teen daughter, Ava, discussing those universal thoughts. Thank you, both, for your honesty and bravery. I certainly learned a thing or two!

EXTRA: Is the stress at the holidays making it difficult to appreciate your dog’s unique personality traits? Read how Bob overcame his disappointment of his dog, Finnegan, in Is This the Face of a Loser?