By Ross Hendrickson
When your kid says their tooth hurts, you don’t wait for it to fall out before calling the dentist. If they’re coughing through the night or running a high fever, the pediatrician gets a call. Even the eye doctor gets a yearly visit, whether their vision has changed or not. These things are just routine.
But when it comes to a child’s emotions, the bar seems to be a lot higher. Or maybe lower. It’s hard to tell. Either way, we often wait far too long.
We don’t always recognize emotional struggles the same way we do physical ones. When a child becomes withdrawn, tearful, reactive, perfectionistic, or anxious, we sometimes chalk it up to “a phase” or “growing pains.” Unless they experience something obviously traumatic or start spiraling at school, therapy is rarely the first thing that comes to mind.
And that’s the problem.
We’ve come a long way, culturally speaking. Mental health isn’t as stigmatized as it used to be. There are podcasts, memes, and social media posts encouraging emotional vulnerability and self-care. But when it comes to children in therapy, we still tend to treat it like a last resort. As if it’s only appropriate when the child is clearly broken or their behavior has become too much to manage.
Let me be honest with you here. That line of thinking is outdated. It’s like waiting until your car won’t start before ever taking it in for maintenance. Sure, the oil light might not be on yet, but does that mean the engine’s fine? We know better with machines. Why is it harder when it comes to our kids?
I grew up in the 1980s, and back then, therapy was not what you’d call “normal.” The image in our heads wasn’t someone quietly processing their feelings with a supportive counselor. It was more like someone sitting in a windowless room after being dragged in against their will. Words like “shrink” and “loony bin” were thrown around with a kind of careless humor that, in hindsight, wasn’t all that funny.
I was a pretty unique kid. Full of anxiety. Sensitive. Easily overwhelmed. Looking back, there was probably some undiagnosed ADHD in the mix, too. But at the time, I didn’t know that. Nobody did. I just figured I had to white-knuckle my way through the hard stuff. And believe me, I did. Like a lot of kids from that era, I learned to suck it up and carry on. That was survival. And it worked, more or less.
But just because something worked doesn’t mean it was healthy. And it certainly doesn’t mean it’s what I’d want for my own kids, or yours.
The truth is, emotional pain doesn’t always show up in explosive ways. Sometimes it looks like a kid who’s overly quiet or polite. A kid who’s doing well in school but can’t sleep at night. A kid who makes everyone laugh but doesn’t know how to talk about what’s really bothering them. Therapy isn’t just for kids who are acting out. It’s for kids who are holding it in.
Sometimes it’s the high-achievers, the kids with perfect attendance and straight A’s, who are silently crumbling under the weight of pressure. They’re praised for being “so mature” or “so responsible,” when really, they’re anxious, afraid to fail, and struggling to believe they’re enough unless they’re performing. Just because a child is functioning doesn’t mean they’re thriving.
Therapy gives kids a safe space to explore their thoughts and feelings before those feelings become too heavy. Before anxiety becomes panic. Before anger becomes defiance. Before sadness becomes hopelessness. Therapy helps them understand themselves, find their voice, and learn skills that most of us didn’t get until we were well into adulthood. If ever.
And those skills? They’re not just about emotional survival. They’re about thriving. They’re about creating space for joy, confidence, self-compassion, and healthy relationships. Imagine if emotional wellness were treated the same way we treat dental hygiene. What if therapy checkups were just part of growing up? What if kids were given tools before things got really hard?
What if instead of only responding to a crisis, we made a habit of tending to our children’s inner world the way we tend to their physical needs? A kid shouldn’t need to fall apart before they’re offered support. Emotional care doesn’t have to be reactive. It can be proactive. Preventative. Strengthening.
I’ve worked with a lot of kids. Some come in after something major, like a divorce or a death in the family. Others are just navigating normal transitions, like starting middle school or dealing with friendship drama. Some are learning how to deal with big emotions they don’t understand yet. Others are trying to manage pressure. Pressure to perform, to please, to be the “easy one” in the family. But here’s the thing. Every single one of them benefits from having someone neutral, someone safe, someone trained to help them process what they’re going through. Even if there’s no “diagnosis” attached.
Sometimes I hear parents say, “But they haven’t been through anything really bad.” And while I understand where that’s coming from, it misses the point. A child doesn’t need a traumatic event to justify therapy. Life itself is hard enough. Being a kid today means growing up in a world filled with noise, comparison, overstimulation, and pressure to be constantly “on.” That’s a lot for anyone, especially a brain that’s still developing.
It’s not about labeling your child. It’s about giving them language. Giving them emotional resilience. Giving them a space to be seen and heard in a way that even the most loving parent can’t always provide.
And parents… I see you. You’re doing your best. You’re juggling work, schedules, meltdowns, and everything in between. You’re trying to raise kind, thoughtful, resilient humans while running on coffee and sheer determination. Therapy isn’t a reflection of failure; it’s a reflection of love. It’s a declaration that your child’s inner world matters.
It’s not about you “failing” if your child needs therapy. It’s about giving them another layer of support. Another advocate in their corner. Someone whose only job is to listen, reflect, guide, and equip them with tools for the road ahead.
I often tell parents that therapy for their child isn’t an admission of something being wrong. It’s a statement that they matter. That their emotional world is worth tending to. That their hearts deserve just as much attention as their cavities and colds.
Think of it like a team. You’re the coach, the parent in the trenches every day. A therapist is like a strength trainer, helping build up parts of your child’s emotional life that might need a little extra conditioning. You’re still the primary caregiver. Therapy just adds depth, reinforcement, and intentionality to the process.
The beautiful thing is, when kids learn these skills early, they grow up to be adults who don’t have to unravel decades of emotional suppression. They become more empathetic, more grounded, and better able to regulate themselves and their relationships. And isn’t that what we’re all hoping for?
So let’s change the script. Let’s stop waiting until things fall apart. Let’s start viewing therapy not as a last resort, but as wise stewardship of our children’s emotional well-being.
What if we normalized feelings, not just the “good” ones, but the hard ones too? What if we taught our kids that sadness, anger, fear, and disappointment are not signs of weakness but invitations for curiosity, connection, and healing?
Your child doesn’t need to be in crisis to benefit from therapy. They just need to be human.
And if we can teach them that their emotions matter now (not just when they explode), maybe we give them a chance to grow up a little less burdened. A little more secure. A little more equipped.
That’s the kind of legacy I wish I’d had growing up.
That’s the kind of legacy I want to leave now.
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