My Teen Daughter Lost Her Friend Group. I’m Surprised By What It’s Done to Me.

Dear Prudence I worry I’m making it worse. Photo illustration by Slate. Photo by mediaphotos/Getty Images Plus. Sign up for the Slatest to get the most insightful analysis, criticism, and advice out there, delivered to your inbox daily. Dear Prudence is Slate’s advice column. Submit questions here. Dear Prudence, I am the mother of a 13-year-old girl, and I cannot stop worrying about her social life. She attends a small and academically excellent private school with only 30 girls in her grade. This year, she left her longtime friend group (they’d been friends since the start of this school year) after conflicts and hurt feelings on both sides. She deeply regrets it now, but she says there is no path for reconciling. Another large group initially encouraged her to sit with them, but over time, it has become painfully clear that she is not really included. They openly discuss plans and text chains she is not part of. At one point, she said no one would move over to make room for her at lunch, and she ended up sitting on the floor near their table instead. What makes this harder is that there do not seem to be many “other options.” In such a small grade, the social groups feel fixed and visible. There is another closed trio, another culturally tight-knit group she does not naturally fit into, and then everyone else already seems paired off socially. My daughter says she used to feel funny, relaxed, and like herself with her old friends. Now she barely speaks in groups because she feels that anything she says will be judged. She spends most of her energy trying not to seem awkward or unwanted. Part of what torments me is that she has always had friend problems. She has no friends outside of school because conflicts arise and she ends up not being able to resolve them. We have tried therapy and seeing a psychologist (she has mild OCD and ADHD—but mild enough not to be medicated). This year seemed like she had finally figured something out, and this friend group felt divine. Losing it has been really hard on her and really hard on me. She truly seems isolated. I also worry that I am making this worse emotionally. I think about it constantly. Her unhappiness feels physically painful to me, and I find myself monitoring every social interaction for signs of hope or rejection. A therapist once told me that I was too emotionally dependent on whether everyone around me was happy, and I fear he was right. How do I help my daughter without making her social life the emotional center of our family? How do I support her without panicking? And how do I know if I should intervene more, or just try to be there for her? Since nothing we’ve done has worked so far, I don’t feel optimistic about options like therapy. —Heartbroken for My Daughter Dear Heartbroken, You have come to the right place. My family had a similarly rough time in middle school and, whew, did it weigh on me. I won’t bore you with our own story, but I want you to know: I have been there, and I get the sadness, frustration, and heaviness of the situation. But I also want to say a few more positive things. Importantly, this will pass—I promise. Middle school sucks. And while it killed me that it looked like all these other kids were having an easier time, hanging with their friends and all that, let me tell you: I know from other parents they all have problems and they are all constantly turning on each other and hurting one another. Why? I don’t know! Even in a bigger school, the dynamics are the same; you think there are more kids to possibly befriend, but teens are pretty self-selecting. Let me make a few suggestions that draw from some things that made for a better eighth grade year in my house (after a rough start around Halloween, when “friends” were making plans that blatantly left out my own daughter). I don’t know what happened with your daughter’s friend group, but it sounds like there were some toxic dynamics all around. It also seems like maybe you blame your daughter a bit for her situation (and that blame compounds when it affects you, too). As for your daughter: Is there a club or activity at school where she could at least see kids in a different dynamic than in class or lunch, and where the group dynamics might be broken up? It could give her a chance for some 1:1 time that is otherwise hard to find with kids that seem to exist in pairs or groups. But also, has she considered becoming friends with … a boy or two? One of my daughter’s best friendships developed in eighth grade with a boy, and the drama between them is so low we took him on vacation with us. Your daughter may reject this suggestion, but I would plant the seed anyway. It might take root. The last thing: If lunch is torture, is there a trusted teacher who would let her eat in the classroom for that period? I am very much of the mind that a lonely kid is building resilience all day at school just by surviving. Why not look for a way to give her a break from the brutal lunchtime social dynamics? But now we need to talk about you. I hope you are still going to therapy, because you need the support. When things were rough for me, I overcompensated by spending money—on stuff for her, and making plans with my daughter that would be fun and diverting. The spending on dumb stuff—makeup, impulse clothing purchases—was stupid. But the plans we made together got her through some rough spots and, frankly, were great fun for me too. In sixth grade, we went to Disneyland for winter break to get away from everything, and now it’s a tradition we plan on keeping until she goes to college. You cannot be your daughter’s friend, and you don’t want to overindulge her with stuff. But going out to lunch, a movie, or a museum—or even a little overnight trip—might create a tradition that you stick to for the long haul. Do you know the song “The Best Day” by Taylor Swift? If not, go listen to it. And think about how much Taylor Swift loves and trusts her mother (if you don’t know, I’ll tell you: it’s A LOT). Getting through this period of teenagerdom could actually bring you closer together. It’s also going to make your daughter more resilient—and you, too. Please keep questions short (<150 words), and don‘t submit the same question to multiple columns. We are unable to edit or remove questions after publication. Use pseudonyms to maintain anonymity. Your submission may be used in other Slate advice columns and may be edited for publication. Dear Prudence, Over the years, I’ve noticed that my mom (who is now in her early 70s) has a particular smell. Her house, clothes, and belongings have all picked it up. My sister and wife noticed it too, but for a while, it wasn’t that strong, so we chalked it up to her outdoorsy/natural fiber lifestyle and didn’t think much more about it. Recently, she visited, and my god, the smell was much worse. I did some research and discovered Old Person Smell (apparently a real thing!): Some hormones get stronger as we age and produce this smell in some people. I bought a special Japanese soap that’s supposed to help, and my sister and I hatched a plan. She told Mom I’d bought it for herself, but she didn’t like it, and she put it in Mom’s shower. Mom has been using it regularly, and the smell is gone! Win? Kind of… How do we now tell our mom that she’s got a bad case of Old Person Smell, that we tricked her into using a special soap, and that she has to keep using it forever or drown people in her musty scent? In our defense, we didn’t want to accuse her of smelling old if the special soap wouldn’t even help, so this silly plan was to make sure we’d properly identified the problem. She’s super sensitive and bad with direct conversations, which also prompted the original short-sighted plan and is now making us hesitant to be honest. Is there a path forward where everyone is gentle with each other, saves face, and smells fresh? —Kid of a Funky Mom Dear Funky Kid, I should probably tell you to come clean (lol), but can you just … throw out all her other soap and give her a pile of this other stuff? Or, say something like: “Hey! We noticed how much you liked that Japanese soap so we picked up some more!” Now that I’m typing it, I realize this might be hard to sustain, depending on just how old she is, but telling your sensitive mom she has “Old Person Smell” seems like a cruel move. I’d stock up, and consider buying stock in this soap: Seems like a wise investment! Prudie Wants to Hear From You! Readers often have great suggestions for our letter writers, occasionally disagree with a point Prudie makes, or simply want to provide some additional advice. Each week, Prudie will be replying to some of these comments and suggestions from readers, which will be featured on the site on Fridays for Slate Plus members. Write to us! Or submit a question here. Dear Prudence, I have a group of girlfriends from middle school, and we’re in our early 30s now, so we’ve been through a lot together. I love them all very dearly, and I would say we all have good individual relationships outside of our group dynamic as well. The problem is travel. A few years back, when most of us started making real adult money and could swing it, we started going on an annual trip together. It’s not at the same time every year, but we’ve found a way to all be there together—even though some of us are scattered around a few different states. These trips are great, except for one thing. One of our friends has a huge need to be in control, and also has much more energy than the rest of us. So, this is what that looks like in practice: She wants to dictate the group’s activities, where we eat, our timing throughout the trip, etc., but she also wants to do way more than we want to do. Over the years, I think we’ve all gotten a bit better at speaking up when we’re too tired or would rather have a night in or see fewer sights, but there’s still that underlying tension every time (because she will get visibly upset, though she won’t voice it, if we don’t do what she suggests). We thought maybe the solution would be a less sightseeing-heavy trip, like a stay in a cabin, but she always manages to find things to suggest no matter how remote we are. We have our annual trip coming up this fall to a small city. Is there a way to make peace with this? Or is living with the tension just the price we have to pay? Help! —The Annual Dilemma Dear Annual Dilemma, Wow, keeping up middle school dynamics into adulthood! This is absolutely bananas and needs to stop. You are adults! I know you don’t want to hurt your friend’s feelings, but you and the other more relaxation-inclined need to talk to each other and come up with a plan. You are not doing your super-planner pal any favors by tolerating her activities and complaining behind her back. Here’s what I would do: Get on the same page with the group, without your friend. Make sure you all agree on the message you want to send. I would suggest thinking about it almost mathematically: We are going for five days, we’d be happy doing activities for two, but want to have chill time for three. Or, it’s a three-day trip—we can do an activity Saturday morning, but let’s just hang out after. This will still give your friend control over some of the time—if that works for you—but makes it clear that the downtime is just as valuable. You don’t want it to seem like a pile-on, so I would appoint one of your group (you?) to talk 1:1 with your friend and say, “Hey, listen, I wanted to talk to you about how we are planning our trips. We love all the activities you set up for us, but I talked to some of the others after our last trip, and we were absolutely pooped when we got home! We were thinking that this year, we could build in some down days for resting and enjoying each other’s company. This will take the pressure off you on organizing so much!” You will likely have to get into a bit of back and forth about what’s behind this, and her feelings may be hurt. But frankly, that’s because you all have let her run over you for all these years, and haven’t been honest with her. Her feelings should be hurt! But hopefully she can get over it, and you all can have a nice group nap the next time you’re together. —Hillary Classic Prudie About twenty years ago, I bought a house and some land a few miles outside a mountain town, with an intent to use it as a vacation home. Over the years, I have bought more land around it for the purpose of conservation. As of a few years ago, we were up to nearly 1000 acres, abutting some national forest and county land. As a project, my kids and I began blazing hiking trails (we are up to about 5 miles) through the land, which would connect to trails in the public land. We then opened the trails to hikers, who could access them from the public land. I had really only one rule and everyone is already breaking it. Never miss new Slate Advice columns Get the latest from Prudie and our columnists in your inbox each weekday, plus special bonus letters on Saturdays. Advice Dear Prudence Family Kids Parenting