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- When my daughter had a problem with a friend, I naturally wanted to intervene to help her repair it.
- Instead, I listened to and then allowed it to manage the situation itself.
- It was difficult, but experience contributed to its resilience and empathy.
When I picked up my 13 year old daughter at school, I could say that something was out of the moment when she got into the car. She did not salute me with her usual chatter, just looked out the window with red and swollen eyes and shrugged when I asked: “How was your day?” After a little sweet incentive, everything was out: her closest friend, her crime partner since the third year, suddenly ceased to speak to him. No arguments. No explanation. Just silence.
My heart was flowing. As a parent, nothing is preparing for the moment when your child hurts in a way that you cannot repair. My instinct was to jump, call the friend’s parents, ask for an explanation and say things well. But I stopped. As much as I wanted to protect her, I knew it was one of those moments that she had to face alone. I needed to be his guide, not its fixative.
She needed my comfort
We talked that night. I listened more than I was talking about. She didn’t need solutions; At least not immediately. She needed to feel heard. She was injured and confused, asking questions that no 13-year-old child should sit with: “Did I do something wrong?” “Why would anyone stop being my friend?” “What is wrong with me?”
And so, I started there. With the assurance that nothing was bad with her.
I explained that sometimes, especially during adolescence, friendships change. People change. Interests are changing. Sometimes people go away without clear reason, and even if it hurts, it is not always something we have done or did not do. It is a hard truth to accept, in particular a young girl who sails on identity, belonging and self -esteem.
I also needed to help him feel independent
In the coming weeks, I watched her go through what I could only describe as miniature sorrow. She wondered. She was crying quietly. She tried to reconnect. And when these attempts were attributed to indifference, it began to withdraw.
It was then that I entered slowly, not to repair it, but to empower it.
I told him about conflict and communication. How is it normal to ask for clarity and how to do it with confidence and kindness. We played what she might say if she wanted to have a conversation with her friend. I reminded her that even if she could not control how someone else behaves, she can choose how she reacts.
About a month later, just when he seemed that the chapter had closed quietly, her friend sent her unexpectedly and asked her if she wanted to meet in the park. My daughter looked at the screen for a long time. Then, calmly, she replied: “Maybe another time.” It was not mean, it was a border. The one she had chosen for herself, in her words. I didn’t say much, but inside, I swallowed with pride. She was not waiting to be chosen or to continue after answers. She had learned to weigh her own value, without my interference.
She learned resilience
The truth is that this experience shaped him in a way that I could never have. It learned of his resilience. This has deepened his empathy. This gave him the tools to navigate relationships with more awareness and maturity.
As a parent, standing was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. But I learned that support does not always mean entering.
Now months later, my daughter still talks about this friendship on occasion. Not with bitterness, but with a perspective. She grew up. It is more cautious about which it lets in, but also more open to new possibilities.
And I also grew up. I learned that part of the education of emotionally strong children lets them feel uncomfortable feelings. Do not shelter them with each storm, but equip them with confidence and tools to resist it. Because they will not remember if we have solved the problem. They will remember if we have held with them as they understood.
And in this, there is a healing for the two of us.
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