in the thick of it….
Today marks the end of Children’s Mental Health Week. This week also marks the end of a very challenging two weeks for me and my husband in parenting our own children and having to protect their emotional well-being, and so I thought it made sense to talk about it in the interest of being authentic and transparent.
Pre-teens. I’ve talked about this subject before and its still bringing the daily challenges to us. Talking to other mums with children in the same year group, I know I’m far from alone. So many of us are juggling work, home, school life, and the emotional needs of growing children. And when you’re a busy working mum raising children with additional needs or neurodiversity, it can feel like parenting is a whole other game entirely. There are more appointments, more advocacy, more emotional coaching, more exhaustion, and often a pressure to keep everything steady for everyone else.
If this stage feels intense, it’s not because you’re doing it wrong. It’s because the pre-teen years really are a big developmental shift, although I often feel that I’m far from getting it right as so many other parents out there who come to therapy.
Around this age, children’s brains are changing rapidly. The emotional parts of the brain become highly active, meaning feelings can arrive quickly and feel enormous. At the same time, the part of the brain responsible for reasoning, perspective, and impulse control is still developing and will continue maturing well into early adulthood. In other words, their emotional world is speeding up faster than their ability to manage it. What can look like overreaction is often simply a young nervous system trying to cope with very real internal storms.
This is also the age when children start to become much more aware of themselves socially. They begin to think more deeply about who they are, where they fit, and what others think of them. Friendships suddenly matter in a new way. Small moments at school can feel huge. A passing comment can replay in their mind for hours. The emotional stakes of everyday life start to rise.
At the same time, they begin pushing for independence. They want more privacy, more say, more distance from us as parents, yet they still need us deeply. This creates that familiar push and pull many families recognise: “I can do it myself”… followed shortly by tears, overwhelm, or needing reassurance. They may seem to reject help one minute and desperately need connection the next. This isn’t defiance or manipulation. It’s the very normal, very human struggle of growing up while still needing somewhere safe to land.
One of the hardest parts for me personally is holding the tension between understanding that my children genuinely don’t yet have the full ability to regulate their emotions, while also knowing that some behaviours, especially when directed at others, can’t be tolerated. A clear example came recently at my son’s rugby session. He had been dealing with a child who had been targeting him for weeks. After being pushed too far, he lashed out. It was a moment of real frustration. We provided him with acknowledgement of his feelings, recognising how overwhelming it was, but at the same time we were firm that lashing out isn’t an acceptable way to act. We followed through with calm, consistent consequences. It reminded me how much gentle parenting isn’t about doing nothing - a misconception I have as one of my biggest bug bears. Gentle parenting is active, thoughtful, and firm; it’s about guiding children with empathy and boundaries, not letting them run unchecked.
We’ve known the benefits of this approach for years. As a former eating disorder nurse, I’ve seen the same parenting principles applied with children in healthcare settings: calm but firm, direct but nurturing, boundaries but with compassion. Getting hung up on terminology isn’t what this is about, and we risk losing the wider context by getting caught up in sensationalist language. It’s about providing children with consistent guidance, emotional support, and clear expectations, all while modelling empathy and resilience ourselves.
And in the middle of this, there’s us, the parents. Often tired. Often carrying far more than anyone sees. Trying to stay calm while managing work deadlines, dinner, messages from school, sibling dynamics, and our own mental load.
Looking after our own mental health during this stage isn’t a luxury, it’s essential. When our children are distressed, what helps them most is not perfect words or perfect parenting, but the presence of a regulated adult nervous system. When we are completely depleted, it becomes almost impossible to offer that steadiness. Protecting even small pockets of rest, support, or kindness towards ourselves is not selfish. It’s what allows us to keep showing up in the way our children need.
Alongside warmth and reassurance, children this age still need clear guidance. Even when they protest loudly. Even when they insist everyone else’s parents are more relaxed. Boundaries create safety. Predictable expectations and calm, consistent consequences help children understand how the world works and where they stand within it. Understanding their emotional limits while still holding firm around respectful behaviour is not contradictory. In fact, that balance is exactly what helps children feel both supported and contained.
And perhaps most importantly, there needs to be compassion, for them and for us, when things go wrong. Because they will. There will be slammed doors, sharp words, moments we wish we’d handled differently, evenings that end in frustration rather than calm connection. What matters most in families is not getting it right every time, but coming back together afterwards. When we repair, apologise, reconnect, and try again, children learn one of the most powerful emotional lessons of all: relationships can wobble and still be safe.
If you’re parenting a pre-teen right now and wondering whether this stage feels harder than you expected, you’re not imagining it. Many families are feeling the same. Beneath the noise and emotion, your child is doing the complicated work of growing up, and your steady, imperfect, loving presence is part of what helps their brain and heart develop along the way.