Working With an Adolescent Part: A Personal Case Study

When I was 12 years old, my already falling apart world fell apart even more. Here it is 50 years later, and one moment from that time still haunts me.

Have you noticed how often you tell a story from your teen years and you cringe or laugh at your younger self? Or you tell a story of a time when you were in so much pain and shrug it off now like it was no big deal, and “what was the fuss all about anyway”? I have found that adults tend to minimize and/or judge painful moments in adolescence, unlike similar moments from earlier childhood. Even people who are just coming out of adolescence view their recent past harshly. Perhaps we quickly recognize and empathize with the tender vulnerability of the defenseless child but not the fragile vulnerability of the almost-grown teenager—a different kind of vulnerability because what we need during those years is not what we need in childhood. 

So I am 12 years old and have just entered into puberty proper. My father has recently introduced me and my two younger siblings to the new woman in his life—let’s call her Lara.  We are immediately suspicious, and later it turns out that we were right to be suspicious. We reeled several years later from the wreckage this very wounded woman brought to our lives . . . . But those are tales for another time. 

It’s summer, and my brother, sister, and I are spending the week with Lara in her home in another state about a 5-hour drive from home. We are “getting to know each other”, while our father is working back home. He will join us on the weekend. 

I am 12 years old, a parentified child, concerned about my brother and sister, uncomfortable in Lara’s strange house. I angst about and judge Lara, my father, and their relationship. I am miserable and miserable to be around—cranky, whiny, passive-aggressive. Lara and Dad plan a trip to the seaside that Saturday, to walk along the boardwalk, to “have a good day” before we head back home. I don’t remember why in particular—though I probably didn’t need any particular reason—but I am not happy. I drag my feet, purposely letting myself fall further and further behind the rest of the family and Lara. 

One of my favorite quotations of all time is from the child psychoanalyst, D. W. Winnicott, who brilliantly observed, “It is a joy to be hidden and a disaster not to be found.” I’m sure this was my adolescent version of hide-and-seek. That confusing ambivalence of wanting to be left alone, wanting to be missed, wanting to be anywhere else but on that sun-laughter-candy cotton-filled boardwalk with my family. And at the same time, I wanted them to be very clear that I had gone into hiding and that they were obligated to come looking for me and welcome me back into the fold. Of course, at 12 years old I never could have articulated my motives. 

From the outside perspective, I was a spoiled, selfish bratty kid. And Lara treats me as such. She storms back where I linger in front of a storefront, grabs my arm tightly, shakes me, leans close to my ear, and mutters furiously, “Your father has driven all this way! We’re trying to have a good day and you’re spoiling it! You’re being ridiculous!”

Here’s where the adults got it wrong that day—-there was no curiosity as to why I whined, separated myself from the group, and refused to have a good day. Not an ounce of curiosity. Why didn’t I want to be with them? Because I was angry at my father. I was so so angry, and, at the same time, I needed him so desperately. But because he was immersed and lost in his own painful story, he wasn’t there. He left me in all kinds of ways. I was burdened by so much that week, and it sat heavy. So when he finally showed up, I wanted to hand it over, to let him be the parent and carry the load. 

Of course, all of this knowing is in hindsight. That day, my family was being hammered by dominos that had started falling seven years earlier from an incomprehensible traumatic loss. We just didn’t know it at the time. 

Here’s the thing—now that I know I can validate that 12-year-old girl, who is still scuffing her feet along the boardwalk, head down, heart filled with hurt and resentment. Lara’s face still looms over her, the shaming voice still in her ears. Instead of shaking my head at how I acted that day, instead of chastising my “immaturity,” scolding my bad attitude, wishing I’d behaved more kindly towards my father—instead of all of that, I can turn toward her with compassion, knowing how hurt and alone she was in all of it.

Using the model of Internal Family Systems and with active imagination, I can come to this young adolescent and be with her. We can walk down that boardwalk, talking it out. I can listen with my heart, and, when she’s ready, she can set down that heavy burden she carried that week. There are many overlaps in healing Inner Child parts and Inner Adolescent parts, such as understanding, validating, and compassion. And, in my experience and opinion, there are places that diverge in the healing work between the two. 

My 12-year-old part doesn’t want to be taken care of. She wants to know that she did big work that week. She revels in hearing how brave she was to get through that week in a strange place with strange people, holding vigilance for her siblings that she felt were under her care. She needs to know how this story weaves meaning through the rest of her life going forward, that it wasn’t all for naught. Adolescents seek purpose, the path toward adulthood. She also wants to understand her father and Lara; she doesn’t need to be rescued from them. Not in this case. In other scenarios, parts may need to be protected and retrieved. My 12-year-old does not want to be infantilized and told that she couldn’t handle it. She wants to be assured that she had to handle it, she was able to do so, it was hard, and she did her best. Being with my 12-year-old part in this way, she stands taller, more confidently, imbued with pride in her abilities, and feels her resilience strengthen. She knows she has an important place in the world. For the Inner Adolescent and the adolescents we work with, this is everything. 

Photo by: Volodymyr