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The first thing that struck me about adolescence was its unpredictable nature. It unfolds in brief bursts, akin to a dripping faucet—slow at first, then suddenly, a torrent of changes. I could sense the transformation on the horizon. A squeaky voice. A ravenous appetite. A new pair of pants, again. Then, life settled back into a routine filled with picky eating and familiar clothes. Until it escalated.
Before I knew it, two years of intermittent changes had led to a noticeable shift in his demeanor. Almost overnight, his gait changed, and he seemed taller, with lanky arms and legs. He had evolved from a boy into something different—a teenage boyman, a novice in this new form. He often slouched, as if he had yet to fully grasp his growing height. There was uncertainty in how he occupied his space, but the physical changes were just the beginning.
Alongside this physical transformation came a newfound toughness in his personality. With it, there emerged a wave of negativity and judgment toward others, which I recognized as an effort to assert his individuality. He dismisses my views on emotions with a curt, “Emotions are stupid, Mom.” I take a deep breath and remind myself that this phase is temporary. I provide no walls or defenses, only acceptance and patience. “Who you are right now is a beautiful and transient boyman, and I am here to embrace all of it with love and understanding.” My spiritual practice is to refrain from worrying, diagnosing, or stressing. He is a boyman, and that is perfectly okay.
He may reject my kisses, yet snuggles up when we watch TV together. He may burst into tears over anger while simultaneously denying any emotion’s validity. Caught in a cultural battle that commodifies human value and enforces rigid gender roles, he embodies contradictions—soft yet tough, sweet yet sour, silly yet serious, hungry yet apathetic, caring yet cruel. He is a boyman.
When he was younger, every day was an adventure filled with curiosity. What word would he learn next? How would he explore the world today? How could I maintain my calm during his tantrums? Now, each day presents a new type of adventure. What does he want to discuss? How is his appetite? What does he need from me? How is he feeling?
This phase of the boyman is immensely valuable to me. The spiritual practice of parenting a teenager is rooted in patience. It involves being nonreactive, loving, and kind. I must hold up a mirror carefully and sporadically because this boyman is swiftly navigating a turbulent river; this too shall pass. It’s a fleeting phase, so I strive not to react too strongly to this version of him. I must hold space, see him clearly, and accept him entirely. I only intervene when absolutely necessary. He is trying on his new identity, testing what fits. He is open and sensitive, experiencing hunger, fatigue, fear, and anger—all of which are perfectly acceptable.
I’ve learned to ask open-ended questions. “How was science class? Who did you sit with at lunch?” I’ve made a point to set my computer aside when he joins me in the living room, legs dangling off the chair. We delve into discussions about politics, social issues, and religions—his favorite topics. I challenge him occasionally, allowing him the freedom to express his evolving ideas.
As he explores personality quizzes online, I engage with him about his character traits and potential career paths. We dream together about colleges and futures. “Mom, what do you think would suit me better, this or that?” I respond thoughtfully, “I can envision you doing either.” I aim to keep him open to possibilities, flowing through life rather than being anchored to a single path.
I’ve learned to nourish him with warm foods during emotional moments. I hold his hand when he allows it and hug him close during our TV time. I’ve adjusted to new boundaries, limiting kisses while still allowing affection on the top of his head.
I’ve come to respect his needs by remaining quiet while he plays soccer, resisting the urge to react when he’s fouled and rolls on the field, grimacing in pain. He is both two and nearly fifteen, a blend of ages in my eyes.
Through the eyes of others who do not mother him, I catch glimpses of their judgments about this awkward stage, his intense emotions, and outspoken views. I momentarily feel anxious for him but then return to my motherly heart, reminding myself that he is okay. It is perfectly fine that others may not see what I see. I am his mother, and my spiritual practice is to remain aware of all that he embodies as this boyman. I strive not to judge or defend him but instead to explain his journey to those who may not understand. “He’s exploring his ideas right now.” “He’s working on differentiating from me.” “He’s really hungry.” “He’s learning to navigate his new body.”
I hope I can evolve to a place where I don’t need to explain. Where I can simply be present amidst the misunderstandings without reacting. I recognize my primal urge to protect my boyman’s heart and soul from being misinterpreted or overlooked.
In August, my boyman will turn fifteen and begin high school. I am his mother—that is my role. I love him unconditionally and cherish the opportunity to witness his unique expression in this world at this moment. I strive to be the lighthouse of love he can rely on during any storm. This is my most important mission: to be a safe harbor for him and his brothers. This is my deepest spiritual practice. I am awakened by his existence. My dear boyman.
This article was originally published on May 30, 2021.
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Summary:
The article reflects on the transformative journey of parenting a teenager referred to as a boyman, highlighting the emotional and physical changes experienced during this stage. It emphasizes the importance of acceptance, patience, and understanding while navigating the complexities of adolescence. The author shares insights on fostering communication, supporting the boyman’s exploration of identity, and maintaining a loving relationship amidst the challenges of growing up.