Teens in Balance - Tara Cousineau, PhD

Kids are stressed out. Time to tune in.

So kids are more stressed out than parents think. That’s what the Stress in America survey showed by the American Psychological Association.  Tweens and teens are reporting tell tale symptoms of stress such as headaches and poor sleep.  What else? Kids worried about finances and their future.  In tough economic times, who wouldn’t be soaking up the societal stress, too? And according to the report, the disconnect among what teens and parents report is pretty discrepant. Ok, Ok, there may be a reporting bias. Parents answering the survey probably wanted to give the right answers suggesting the positive health of their children; maybe the teens did, too (it's called social desirability). But for heaven's sake, when almost half of tweens and teens are indicating they are stressed out and only 1 of 10 parents see that, there seems to be a problem.

• Tweens (30%) and teens (42%) say they get headaches vs. 13% of parents 

• Tweens (39 %) and teens (49%) cite difficulty sleeping vs. 13% of parents
• Tweens (27%) and teens (39%) report eating too much or too little vs. 8% of 
parents.

Now I remember not telling my mother much of anything once I was in high school; she just didn’t seem to get it.  If anything, she complained that I stayed up too late doing homework and that I slept too much on weekends.  She never understood why I had to have certain clothes or shoes… so I just up and got a job a soon as I could. (Jobs for teens these days?) So from a teen point of view - why bother explaining it all? That may be the sentiment of most teens, too.  After all, they're trying to be more independent and manage things on their own. Even in a culture where parenting has become more causal and friend-like, teens are still carving out their private lives. Major kid stressors include school work and peer relationships. Easier to chock that up to normal adolescence, parental amnesia, or dismissal (“When I was kid things were much tougher.”  “You don’t know how easy you have it.”) That parents underestimate the stress their children face is not all that surprising.  But the degree of difference in perception is.

It calls for more education to help youth cope and learn ways to manage stress. It would help if parents could learn stress management skills and model them, too.  Things like relaxation and downtime, deep breathing, considering alternative perspectives on a problem (cognitive reframing), taking a witnessing stance (rather than blame), practicing assertiveness and communication skills, and getting support. Helping parents understand the teen brain is key, too. Much more is known brain development that puts a lot of teen quirkiness into perspective. But here I am.  I’ve been teaching mind-body skills to medical patients for many years and constantly say these are life skills.  Why aren’t we teaching them early on?

There is plenty of research evidence that shows that health promotion and stress management programs work – for kids at risk due to social or economic circumstances, who have medical conditions, and suffer with anxiety or depressive symptoms.  But all children need these skills.  Such skills promote self-esteem and a sense of self-control – and could prevent the high risk taking that many teens engage in to either self-soothe, avoid stress, or feel connected (like substance use, disordered eating, early initiation of sexual behavior or dropping out of school, to name a few).  I suppose the good news is that the last several Youth Behavior Risk Surveillance surveys show a decrease in high-risk behaviors that can lead to early death (more kids wear seat belts and less kids drink alcohol or binge), which suggests that prevention programs may be working.  But there are many other symptoms that exist below the radar of extremes that don’t get much attention. Well, as we mind-body teachers say: Awareness is the first step.

Now take a deep breath.

Toy Story lives in our hearts for infinity

When my daughter was 3 years old she chose to be Buzz Lightyear for Halloween.  I was a proud mom, indeed. No pink tulle costume for my girl.  Adventure, determination, hero status, and loyal friend. What could be a better role model?

(This year she went as Selena Gomez, so there you go.)

The characters of Toy Story have lived with us for a decade, in film, coloring books, and in toys. It tops our list of all time best animation (especially Toy Story 1) and has tugged at our heartstrings every time we fall upon it.  There was resurgence this past week when digging out the battered DVD cases of 1 & 2 in preparation for the viewing of Toy Story 3, which we decided was to be a family-only event. I saw the outing as a closure of sorts, with my 10 and 12 year olds on the brink of outgrowing this movie category. Yes, those darn animations have filled up my movie going over many years in lieu of indie flicks and foreign films – and now we’re moving on to more mature films like Twilight (well, maybe).

I had been vaguely warned by another mother that the dramatic ending was not expected and to “be prepared.”  What, they all die? I thought.  (I’m not giving away the ending, don’t worry.)  At the theater I sat with my older daughter and my younger one sat behind us in the last row with her Dad.  Highest elevation matters to her and being in the center matters to Dad.

Woody is out to save his best friends, as usual, and goes to great lengths to do so. He combats an evil teddy bear and his baby doll sidekick and the toys suffer though the demonic play by a bunch of toddlers in a preschool.  Yes, what could be worse than being mangled by three year olds during the day and imprisoned by possessed toys at night?  What a nightmare!

The power went off in the theater at one point (resulting in free tickets) and when the sound came back on it was the music track only, no voices.  But wouldn’t you know it, this occurred at the scene where Buzz is on “Spanish mode” and dances a swank Pasadoble with Jesse. It was subtitled so we didn’t miss too much.  A bit of romance in the third installment – how sweet.

Of course, the climax of the film did happen to be one of existential crisis for Woody and his lot – and a moment of utter tenderness when the toys clasp hands as they bravely face their presumed fate.  I sobbed, “Oh my god it’s a holocaust!” My daughter gestured with her face in her hands, then turned to me and laughed at my drama.  The one behind me whispered to her Dad, “This is the part where Mom cries.”

Later, wolfing down burritos, my younger daughter said, “I didn’t like this version. It was so intense.” She offered a better ending in her mind, one that did not include the possibility of familial annihilation. She felt that Andy could have seen his beloved toys wave goodbye to him, some live evidence of their humanity before he went to college.

And why not?

Eclisped, not.

I’m no TwiMom, that’s for sure.  But how can I be? I haven’t read the books.  Instead, I chaperoned three 12-year olds to Eclipse, and a tag along 14-year old girl (that is, she could not find her cousin at the theatre and then stuck with us… said I was a cool mom.)  I sat away from them, of course, with the farthest distance between my daughter and myself.

But I can’t be a TwiMom by association anyway since my daughter hated the first Twilight book.  I didn’t even know she had read it, since she reads about a book every other day.  It just couldn’t stand up to the Harry Potter series, she had said, and outright dismissed it.  Maybe she was too young for all the romance?

Being a connoisseur of teen culture these days – and the fact that Eclipse topped the box office worldwide in the first five days – I took it upon myself to see the latest movie.  I became curious having just listened to some conservative talk radio show (to my annoyance, my husband keeps it on in his car “to understand how the other side thinks”).  The topic was about fanatical TwiMoms, and random quotes from Twilight mom blogs.  The quotes were actually quite funny – moms writing about how the love/lust tension among the teens improved their marriage, or alternatively caused them to reflect on that state of their union, and so on.  So, I was intrigued from a generational viewpoint.

But I have to say I was disappointed with the movie, other than a mild fascination with the scents of vampires, wolves and humans and Jacob’s in-your-face-abs.  Eclipse did not conjure up fond memoires of my first love or nostalgia for a carefree time when grown up responsibilities were unknown, like it has for many TwiMoms. Oh well. (And I do have nostalgia – if not comic relief and awe of survival, when I reflect on those days.) I expected more skin and sexual innuendos and was frankly relieved it was as tame as it was.

When I caught up with my tween entourage, I asked: “So was it like the book?”

“The book was bad, but this was way worse,” said one.  In the car ride home all clamor was about the next installment, which other than my daughter, the rest had read. They tried to determine what powers the offspring of Bella and Edward would entail.   “Kind like a half-breed, like Hermione, in Harry Potter?” I asked.  My daughter rolled her eyes,  “Mom. They are called Muggles or Mudbloods.” 

Right.

I’ll have to give the books a chance this summer, no doubt. Only one of the fours girls was clearly boy crazy, hence their tepid collective review. In the car, we talked about Bella’s “choice” to become a vampire after marrying Edward.  Did it really seem like a choice, I wondered out loud. Or was she just going for the guy no matter what, as love can be blind type of thing? Was she really just paying into the girl does what the guy really wants to do – even though he makes it seem like a bad idea.  Why would she give up her life to go to other side?  How is that power? Or independence?  I was talking to myself.  “She’s basically choosing to be dead,” said one of the girls. The older (but young) teen filled me in. “Bella never thought she fit in and was different than other kids, so this group of vampires is where she feels comfortable. They have a cause to fight over.”  The classic teen angst.

Two nights later, as a family, we saw Toy Story 3. Talk about existential angst. 

Please pass the tissues.