Part 2 ~ Let Us Remember: Reflections from Adolescence ~ Ciara Fanlo
December 11, 2024 – In Part 2 of Ciara’s reflections, she continues to let us glimpse the poignant inner world of the Adolescent psyche. While The Shiftless Wanderer speaks a great deal about the essential nature of Adolescence, in this posting Ciara shows us this world.
Ciara Fanlo, once a "troubled teen" herself, now dedicates her life to supporting adolescents. As the founder of Homing Instinct, she provides mentorship and coaching for teens, drawing on her deep understanding of the adolescent psyche and the complexities of growing up while navigating mental health struggles. Ciara is devoted to transforming how we view adolescence, and how we learn from, connect with, and guide our teenagers.
Living The Lessons
Diary Entry: “I’m becoming the person who can hold all this pain. And it’s happened by doing so day after day until I finally realized I was. It was my teacher. I have learned more by going through this than I ever could have by avoiding.”
Bewildered and weary, parents often ask, Why does my teen make these choices?
Why smoke weed to relieve stress instead of jogging?
Why lash out and yell when it’s counterproductive to them getting what they want?
Why self-harm when they could journal instead?
Parents assume two things. First, their child’s choices are deliberate. And second, that they are irrational.
As a teen, the choices I made felt like the only ones available. I wasn’t actively seeking out the most dysfunctional or destructive options—I simply didn’t know another way. It hurt me deeply when people assumed I was intentionally being difficult. My actions were desperate attempts to cope. The idea of "choice" implies a level of thought and intention that I simply didn’t have.
Your child’s choices, however puzzling they may seem, are logical to them and purposeful in their journey of self-development. As adults, we see the range of responses available and often think we know the “better” or “healthier” choices our teens could make. We try to fast-track their growth by sharing lessons we’ve learned, hoping they won’t make the same mistakes. But the truth is, it doesn’t work that way. Teens must uncover life’s lessons through their own lived experiences.
Philosopher Søren Kierkegaard reminds us: “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.” The insights we hold as adults come from our own library of lived experiences—something teens are still in the process of building.
Adolescence is a time of first major encounters—relationships, disappointments, successes, and failures. These moments teach critical lessons, helping teens develop intuition, resilience, and clarity. Often, the most valuable lessons are found within mistakes—lessons that only reveal their worth with time. Teens are constructing a personal library of experiences that will shape their values, beliefs, and future decisions.
I once told a mother that it was only by abandoning myself for years that I finally learned how to stop. I learned the importance of preparation after failing to plan for an important application. I discovered the value of trusting my intuition only after ignoring it.
Adolescence is not a fixed “final form” but a fluid, unfolding phase of development. Growth takes time, and the most important lessons aren’t learned through advice alone—they must be lived. Teens don’t just need tools and skills; they need to become the kind of people who can apply them effectively.
This transformation happens through experience, as teens gradually absorb and integrate what they encounter into the fabric of who they are becoming. When we view adolescence through this lens, we can better embrace its fluidity, wonder, and challenges. We see teens actively building their library of experiences, laying the foundation for their values, resilience, and identity.
Finding Hope
Diary entry: “I keep hearing that someday it will get better, but I don’t believe it. What is “someday” compared to every day?”
As a struggling teen, I had to believe in the possibility of something I had never experienced. It felt like I would always be engulfed in pain because I had no frame of reference for anything different.
My experience of my body was disgust; in social settings, it was loneliness; in school, it was incompetence. I hadn’t yet known true inner peace, self-acceptance, or intimate connection. When people urged me to feel hopeful, I couldn’t—it wasn’t a lack of willingness but a lack of reference points to inspire that hope.
If I could speak to my teenage self, I’d tell her that what lies ahead is beyond anything she can imagine right now. She just needs to hold on for experiences she can’t yet envision, but deep down, already senses. Even then, I knew that something more was possible, even if I couldn’t fully see it. The part of me that felt empty, lonely, and saddened—the part that longed for meaning, belonging, and soulful bonds—was also the part that, deep down, believed those things must exist.
Isn’t such a paradox the heart of adolescence? Knowing so much yet so little. Feeling everything and nothing. Wanting nothing more than to be free, and nothing more than to belong, all at once.
As time passed, moments began to give me glimpses of hope. I remember a night in wilderness therapy, lying in my sleeping bag under a full, glowing moon, hanging like an ornament in the sky. I felt an overwhelming sense of peace—deep, quiet, and perfect—I had never felt before. I hadn’t known such a feeling was possible. I remember a camping trip with my friends after treatment, laughing around the fire, and roasting S’mores. “I’m so glad I didn’t end my life when I was 16,” I thought to myself. “I would have never lived to experience this.” Those moments became the proof I’d once lacked: that life could hold beauty, connection, and peace beyond anything I’d imagined.
When we connect with teenagers, we must remember they’re still in the process of gathering these reference points—the moments and insights that provide grounding, inspiration, and sustenance. They are filling their spiritual bowls. As adults, we can serve as conscious emissaries of what’s possible—embodying and sharing the richness, kindness, and depth that life has in store. By doing so, we can provide them with glimpses of possibilities they may not yet see.
They need us to believe in their capacity to discover the beauty and connection that, even in their darkest moments, they may already sense waiting on the horizon. They need us to be here as reminders of all that’s coming and, paradoxically, all that is already within them.
Diary Entry: “I hope you’re happy. I hope you remember me.”
And to you, dear reader, I hope that you can revisit your own adolescence — those awkward, intense, heartrending, years:
Crying in the bathroom after an argument with your parents, wishing they’d just understand, and feeling like nobody ever would.
The sting of a whispered rumor spreading through the school halls, leaving you overcome with shame and anger.
The freedom of walking home alone on a warm evening, lost in your thoughts, feeling like the whole world was somehow both bigger and smaller than you imagined.
Now, I encourage you to reflect on this: What kind of adult did you need during those moments? How did you hope someone would show up for you?
Then, look around your world—your ecosystem—and consider whether there’s a teen in your orbit who might need that same presence. And be that for them now.
Photo by: Julia