#Unsettled

I know every parent says this about their kids, but I truly have an exceptional daughter. She’s beautiful, smart, funny, and has an incredible ability to keep things in perspective. She is truly my best friend—and, that aside, she is also the one who drives me completely insane.

Navigating the high school years with a teenage daughter in today’s world is a masterclass in modern perspective. Together, we broach topics I never had to navigate with my sons. Though I’ve always had an open-door policy with all my children, certain conversations just never came up with the boys. Now that high school, homecoming, and the quiet pressure of dating have entered the frame, I find myself holding my breath, watching how she moves through it all.

Between competitive dance, high school swim team, academics, and everything else on her plate, her time is precious. She likes the idea of a relationship—who wouldn’t?—but as she watches the drama and energy drain from her peers’ romances, she hesitates. She is mature far beyond her years, with a spirit that glows because she makes a conscious, intentional choice to just be herself.

Recently, a boy she’d been close with started shifting the rules. One day he’d tell her how much he loved spending time with her; the next, he’d flip the script and talk about how pretty other girls were. This went on for months while she quietly poured her energy into seeing where things would go.

When she brought her confusion to me, a ghost of my own high school years came rushing back. I remembered a boy I’d been close with—someone I hung out with constantly, had obvious chemistry with, and felt like I could talk to about anything. But he did the exact same thing: talked about other girls, subtly picking at my confidence and making me feel small.

That went on for a few years before I finally drew a line in the sand. I decided that no matter how long we’d known each other, we would never be more than platonic friends. (And we are still great friends to this day.)

I shared that lesson with my daughter:

You do not have to hand out chance after chance to someone who treats your presence like an option.

If I give you the opportunity to be in my life and you choose not to take it, I won’t hand you the invitation a second time. Some call it rigid; some preach second and third chances. But protecting your mental health and knowing your self-worth isn’t about holding a grudge—it’s about faith in who you are. I don’t chase after people who are walking away from me.

She took my advice and articulated her exact feelings to him. There was no blow-up and no awkwardness—just a mature, open conversation. He validated her feelings, apologizing for making her feel insignificant because it was never his intention. He, too, is just navigating the messy teenage world of “dating.”

I use the word dating loosely here. In today’s world, kids don’t date in the traditional sense—they snap, they DM, they navigate a prolonged “talking stage,” and then, eventually, they decide to commit. I am constantly amazed by this generation; in many ways, they feel like old souls.

I can’t pinpoint when our kids became little sages, but they are sponges. They watch us, observe our behavior, and take it all in. With my daughter, I always bring the conversation back to having respect for yourself and choosing yourself first. There is never a need to shrink who you are to fit into someone else’s space—a truth that translates just as powerfully to my adult friends as it does to teenagers. It is always okay to draw that line and stand your ground.

When you stop handing away the power to define your value, something gently shifts. You realize that being comfortable in your own skin isn’t a prize someone hands you—it’s a home you build for yourself.

Choose you.