‘Coddling’ is not the culprit of our children’s mental illness
Childhood is now a boot camp for success, and professional opportunities no longer abound
Oh how we “coddle” our young. Isn’t that the fashionable lament out there?
We coddle them so much that by the time they are midway through high school or enrolled in university, many of them are lined up in hallways desperate for mental-health guidance and help.
We coddle them so much that some of them are killing themselves or thinking about doing so at an alarming rate. We coddle them so much that anxiety is one of the leading psychiatric disorders of our time.
Which is to say, in my view, we don’t coddle them at all, however “entitled” they may feel, and whatever ways we try to help them.
One survey taken last year of 25,000 Ontario students found that 65 per cent of them reported experiencing “overwhelming anxiety” in their lives. That same survey, conducted by the Ontario University and College Health Association (OUCHA), said 46 per cent of the kids surveyed reported feeling so depressed they had trouble functioning.
In some quarters, scorn is heaped upon these “fragile flowers” by columnists and commentators who swear that when they were in university, whether it was exam stress, or relationship blues, well, they just “sucked it up.” And continued on their successful way.
Really. That’s not how I remember it. To this day, I can’t quite figure out what happened to me when I went away to university, but it wasn’t pretty.
I made it through my first year in residence — barely. By second year, sharing a great apartment with a roommate who is still one of my best friends, I kind of shut down.
While my friend scurried about campus getting A’s and fitting in, I often numbly sat around our apartment, reading widely but not academically performing. I worked for the school newspaper, but I had a serious problem with motivation.
I even went home and lay in bed for a while. My father, the flintiest of newsmen, cleared his throat and said from the doorway, “You better toughen up if you want to be a reporter.” My mother didn’t know what to do for me.
My malaise passed. But I didn’t. I left university without a degree and I still don’t understand why I, who luckily made a success of writing for a living, couldn’t cope with getting an unremarkable B.A. I’m sure they are still waiting for my Poli Sci 201 essay.
I was anxious, but not even clinically so. In going away to school, I had stepped away from a somewhat challenging family life, which seemed even more vivid to me from a distance, as if my real job was to sit still and review it.
I couldn’t figure out where I fit in. This was in a time in which there was no social media, little pressure to succeed, and no lack of opportunity to do what you wanted with your life.
Now think of today, where childhood is a bit of a boot camp for success, social media tells you every day who is having a better life than you and professional opportunities for graduates no longer abound.
Think of today, in which stakeholder parents “invest” so much in their kids, emotionally and financially, that kids not only know they have to make a success of themselves, but they also have to fight for their autonomy.
Think of today, even of this week, in which generalized anxiety is no longer a metaphor for modern life. It is modern life.
Donna Ferguson, a psychologist who specializes at CAMH in post-traumatic stress disorders and anxiety, said in an interview that a perfectly legitimate question to ask in light of the massacre at a country music festival in Las Vegas is “Can I go to a concert and even be safe?”
One headline from last spring on the CBC website said this: “Ontario campus counsellors say they’re drowning in mental-health needs.” They still are. Some describe it as a “tsunami.”
Ferguson doesn’t have any miracle cures for anxiety. For some it is genetic, for some environmental and for some a passing moment that would be helped by quick counselling or even just by having someone close to talk to.
Ferguson’s big worry is wait times. “We can’t have them on waiting lists.” She says she gets calls frequently from universities who need help fast for particular students. “I take them into my practice or I find a colleague who will see them.”
Ferguson takes part in mental health initiatives such as Bell’s “Let’s Talk” but she thinks these campaigns should happen more frequently.
You can’t talk about mental health enough these days, at school and in the workplace, where adults far removed from student life suffer both from anxiety or depression, and from the stigma around it.
How do you build a kid who will be resilient in the f ace of anxiety? All the usual things. You help them become independent, encourage them to work while in their teens — “I started babysitting when I was 11,” Ferguson says.
And you do the most important thing of all. You listen.
Thanksgiving is here. Kids will be coming home, many of them burbling with enthusiasm about courses and campus life.
But some will be very quiet. They may not be able to say specifically what’s wrong, but if they say they’re not coping, believe them.
A quick response can make the difference “between living and dying,” says Ferguson.
Or even just living and thriving.