Youth's Folly Seen Through Older Eyes

School hasn’t even been back in session a week, and my daughter is already going through her first breakup. I try to put myself in her shoes, but if I had a dollar for every boy I was completely wild about who broke my heart… well, I’d have one dollar.

And here’s the thing: I was actually in love. Not the cringey, shallow middle school version of love. I’m talking all-consuming—the I’ll love you until my dying day kind of love. But no matter how you slice it, rejection stings. Even if it’s from a dopey middle school kid with a questionable haircut.

I wasn’t a self-conscious teenager when my heartbreak hit, but I do remember how destabilizing it felt. In true scorned-woman fashion, I wasn’t exactly my best self. I questioned my self-worth, just like she’s doing now.

But last night, she went completely unhinged, cutting up a very expensive hoodie of her ex-boyfriend’s. Apparently, she’d seen this method on TikTok (not that she has the app, but that’s beside the point) and went full chaos mode. I found her on the floor, scissors in hand, fabric scraps everywhere, like a miniature hurricane of teenage fury—maniacally laughing. Maybe it’s just her way of coping, but I couldn’t help feeling sad about all the energy she was pouring into this situation.

I want to be a supportive mom, but a part of me feels triggered by her constant ruminating over this tiny slice of her life. The “relationship” lasted only four months, and they barely saw each other over the summer. Doesn’t she understand her worth beyond how boys see her? Doesn’t she see that she’s beautiful, smart, funny—and that this is more about him than it is about her? That circumstances change, people come and go, and there will be many more boys in her life?

I know all these answers. And yet, watching her, I feel that pang of guilt—like maybe I haven’t prepared her well enough, like maybe I haven’t taught her how to handle rejection or filled her up so she has the self-worth to see herself beyond one boy’s opinion.

It also brings up some shame for me. Seeing her act out so wildly reminds me of how I handled my own heartbreak. I think maybe I could’ve walked away with more grace. But even though I wasn’t a young teen, I was still growing up too.

And maybe that’s the point. Heartbreak is messy, raw, and sometimes loud. The best we can do is ride it out, learn something from it, and hope our kids come out the other side knowing their value—scissors and all.