I was moved by the letter (3 July) from a parent whose child is not in employment, education or training (Neet). As a parent of a neurodivergent late-teenager who struggles with social communication and with making relationships beyond the family, I have found the prospect of his entry into adulthood a daunting, unsettling one.
As your correspondent makes clear, it’s easy to slip into the habit of comparison and begin to see your adult child as falling “behind” their peers who have now found places for themselves in the wider world – in work, but also in romantic relationships. Perhaps as a man it is most difficult for me not to make comparisons with my own teenage years, which now seem to me to have been marked, like those of so many, by experimentation, recklessness and a general disregard for order, routine and safety. All of which, I suppose, add up to a specific manifestation of the independence that we so often value in our children.
However, the one thing I want to add to the comments of your correspondent is that, with all their need for care and with all the additional pressure that we feel as parents of our dependent adult children, it’s worth remembering that those children, in having to overcome the challenges and obstacles put before them, have undergone a kind of development that perhaps we do not always register fully. My son has to deal with a world that must feel uncomfortable and hard to understand at times, but he does so with good humour and with consideration and respect for others – precisely the qualities we hope to see in any fully rounded, independent young adult.
Name and address supplied
Thank you for raising an issue that my husband and I understand only too well. We both read the letter knowing that we could have written it. We share the feelings of grief and shame, and would like to send support to their family, as well as every other family in the same position.
We have two sons in their early 20s who have had very different life experiences, despite having been raised the same. Our younger son is Neet and after six years of self-isolation is only now beginning to engage with a counsellor, whom we pay for because we are lucky enough to be able to afford to. Prior to this we had no support from school or any other services because he refused to engage. We were fined for non-attendance at school and probably would have ended up in court if Covid-19 lockdowns hadn’t happened. We have finally accepted that he may never become truly independent and have no idea what is attainable for him. He is bright and articulate, but has minimal qualifications and lacks confidence in a world that doesn’t understand him.
We have no answers, easy or otherwise, a fact that we find one of the hardest things to process. However, by sharing our story with friends, we began to uncover the scale of this problem, as people started to share back. It doesn’t change anything, but it does make us feel slightly less alone. The counsellor has also been helping us to understand his brain and how to communicate with him by giving an informal diagnosis. This has made our home life less tense. The sense of relief this has brought is enormous, despite this being only a tiny step forward. The “label” may or may not be accurate, but the changes we have made in response do seem to have made a difference. We hope your correspondent can find similar help.
Name and address supplied
My daughter withdrew from mainstream education aged 13 – that was 11 years ago. Since then we have enrolled her with an educational charity called Red Balloon of the Air, an organisation set up originally to support bullied children. She saw a support worker and a tutor once a week with the sole intention of getting involved in activities such as cooking and woodwork. She engaged tentatively and always showed enthusiasm at first, but it usually tapered and fizzled out eventually.
From there she enrolled with a local further education college on a course to do with the care of small animals. She was initially enthusiastic, but stopped attending after three months. She had to have an operation and she did not return after this. Her days are spent reading, online gaming, viewing dross on YouTube and isolating herself all the time. She does not go out, has no friends, refuses to exercise and overeats – through boredom as much as anything else. She sees an occupational therapist once a week who tries to engage her in activities such as baking bread, but her initial enthusiasm always ebbs away. We are at our wits’ end.
Name and address supplied
I was very moved on reading the letter and found myself nodding my head vigorously in agreement. As someone who for almost 40 years worked in children’s services, child and adolescent mental health services (Camhs) and now privately as a systemic family therapist, I am always struck by both the general lack of acknowledgment that parenting is for life and also by the idea that parenting is something that we either simply succeed or fail in.
In particular, I am thinking about when young people move from Camhs into adult mental health services, parents are very often left out of all communications about their children’s emotional wellbeing because they have attained the age of 18 – often with tragic consequences.
Our children are our children until the day we die and we do not, and should not, stop being their parents when they reach a certain age. I know that our parental role changes and adapts, and appropriately so. However, support for families is sorely lacking, regardless of the age of both the parents and of their children. It should not be a taboo subject or a matter of shame that we need to invest in supporting families right across the life cycle.
Shauna M Faith-Crothers
Coleraine, Northern Ireland
