The Family Therapy That Backfired — 'I Spent Hundreds Of Dollar To Learn My Son's Problem Was ... Me'
A mom's attempt to 'fix' her son in family therapy took an unexpected turn.
Matt_Brown | Canva Anyone with an ADHD child knows that it’s the black run of parenting. As other kids learn to tie their shoelaces, pack their lunch boxes, do their homework, and generally start to run their own lives unaided, it’s a herculean effort to get your kid to school wearing a full set of shoes.
Dress-up days have posed a particular problem. My son and I have arrived at the school gate to find ourselves surrounded by wizards, dinosaurs, mad scientists, and spacemen, whilst he was dressed as … well, a schoolboy.
Of course, I should have read the school newsletter, but it’s a part-time job staying on top of it, and I had a regular job too. Other kids had spent the previous month excitedly talking to their parents about book day and planning their outfits. My son was oblivious to the whole event.
More recently, at secondary school, he got the wrong week for rag week and turned up at school dressed as a six-foot-four minion when everyone else was in school uniform.
To add to the chaos, he then lost his violin on the way home, so I had to drive around town with the oversized minion, chasing buses to check them for violins. T
The violin finally turned up in the sausage roll shop. So, forgive me if I have been a bit overprotective.
They say let kids fail to let them learn, but ADHD kids can fail more comprehensively than most, and repeat the same failure ad infinitum, so the load falls on the shoulders of the parents to anticipate the next hole in their path and guide them around it. Which is what I have done.
I wrote lists of activities for each room and pinned them on the wall. I put AirTags in his violin case, created color-coded revision timetables, and for many years, laid out his clothes to avoid a morning crisis.
I have been his PA. His alarm clock, diary manager, bank, chef, laundress, chauffeur, and revision coach. And now, at the age of 18, he’s leaving behind this incredible support team of one, and going off on his own.
In my usual mode of anticipating problems, I thought it would be a good idea for my son to have some Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) sessions to put in place some systems to help him manage on his own.
To anticipate any issues before they hijack him and knock him off course at university. To replace my role.
So I booked an online session and we waited in front of the computer. I asked my son if he would rather I leave, but he said he would rather I didn’t. He had no idea what this was all about.
The family therapy that backfired
Pixel-Shot / Shutterstock
The therapist popped up online, three expensive minutes late. A polished-looking woman with an American accent.
‘What are you hoping to get from this session?’ she asked my son.
He looked blank, so I explained about the changes he was facing at university and that I was hoping she could help him set up systems to navigate them.
‘And how is your mental health?’ she asked my son.
He looked puzzled. ‘Fine,’ he said eventually.
‘How do you manage your school work?’ ‘It can take me a whole day before I can settle down to work,’ he said.
‘How do you feel about that?’ she asked my son. ‘It’s very frustrating,’ I said.
‘It's fine,’ said my son. ‘I get through it very fast when I do finally start.’
Even a mole could see a pattern emerging here. But I didn’t. ‘So, could you give him some ADHD coaching to help him manage his time?’ I asked.
It was a good idea. But it was my idea. So really it wasn’t.
The therapist took a breath and looked at us both, telling us she wasn't convinced my son had any desire to change.
‘Cognitive behavioral therapy is designed around a desire for change. I don’t think your son wants to change. I can make some suggestions, but without the drive coming from him, they are unlikely to succeed.’
So this was a waste of time and a lot of money?
‘I do think I can help you in some ways,’ she continued. ‘What sort of things are you hoping he will change?’
‘He could manage his own diary.’
‘Why do you manage his diary?’ she asked me.
‘Because he doesn’t,’ I replied.
I thought about sending all the texts with driving lesson dates and times to my son, only for him to be out of contact at the gym when the driving instructor arrived.
‘So what happens if he fails?’ ‘We wasted money, the driving instructor’s time, and his opportunity to learn.’
‘Okay — so could there be some immediate consequence for him if he misses it?’ She asked. ‘Like paying you back the money?’
Something somewhere clicked. ‘What?’ said my son, looking alarmed. He didn’t like where this was going.
There was more. The therapist took a deep breath, not knowing how I was going to take the next thing she had to say.
‘It’s wonderful you have been such a loving, caring mother to your son. He has succeeded in so many ways, in part thanks to your coaching, organisation, and help. But the best way to care for him now is to let him do these things for himself, and where needed, letting him fail.’
But, but, but … I wanted to say. You have no idea.
With a sinking heart, I realised the therapist was right: We’ve had some spectacular failures, but I've never truly handed over responsibility to my son.
So really, the failures have been mine.
The solutions have to come from him, and if I keep doing things for him, he won’t even see that there’s a problem. He’s an adult with a stunning set of grade predictions. It’s time I trusted him to fall flat on his face and to pick himself up.
Maybe the hardest part of parenthood is the very last. It’s like a trapeze act, when you swing back, then shoot forward, and know you have to let go of your child so they can fly off and hopefully grab the bar before they accelerate catastrophically towards the ground.
ADHD is a reason for being more present earlier, but it’s not a reason not to let go.
So here we are: No more reminders of violin practices, karate lessons, or even time to go to bed or get up. It's time he managed his correspondence and appointments, even if he misses some.
I have bought a laundry basket for him, and he is now in charge of laundering the multiple towels and shirts he chucks in there every day.
If he dyes his karate kit pink, fails his violin exam, and misses a driving lesson, he will learn a far more important lesson — that he has to pay the price.
So the therapy session wasn’t a failure — it was worth every penny for the impact it’s had on me.
It's given me the courage and permission to let go, to release him to fly off into an unsupported world. And if he has any doubts about his ability to cope?
In the immortal words of Erin Hanson;
There is freedom waiting for you
on the breezes of the sky
And you ask, “What if I fall?”
“Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?”
Bridget Appleby is a writer and TV Producer. She has written scripts for films that have won BAFTA and EMMY awards, and her articles have been featured in The Guardian, New Scientist, BBC Wildlife, Bell, and Medium publications.
