How do we support kids’ and teenagers’ mental health?
October 10 is World Mental Health Day, a moment that feels especially close to home for many of us. Whether you personally struggle with your own mental health, or someone you love—your partner, your parent, or your child—does, this day serves as a reminder that emotional wellness touches every family.
The Weight of the World
According to the CDC, 11% of children ages 3–17 have diagnosed anxiety. Among adolescents aged 12–17, 20% report symptoms of anxiety and 18% report symptoms of depression. Among high schoolers, 40% say they’ve felt persistent sadness or hopelessness in the past year, and 20% have seriously considered suicide.
Those numbers are hard to read. They’re even harder to hold when we look around at the state of the world—the constant stream of crises, violence, and uncertainty that fills our screens. If life feels overwhelming right now, you’re not imagining it. And if you or your kids feel more anxious, restless, or sad because of what’s happening around us, you’re not the problem.
As writer Glennon Doyle puts it,
“I am not a mess but a deeply feeling person in a messy world.”
How to Navigate a Messy World
There are no quick fixes for mental and emotional strain, but there are faithful, grounded ways to navigate it together. Here are a few practices that can help.
1. Take time away from screens.
Try spending a full weekend unplugged from social media. Before you sign off, take a mental inventory:
How do you feel right now—stressed, restless, anxious? How is that showing up in your body? In your tone with others?
Then, when you come back online, ask yourself the same questions.
What’s different? What changed? What might it look like to make this kind of break a regular rhythm for you and your family?
2. Answer—don’t avoid—hard questions.
When your kids ask about something troubling they’ve seen or heard, meet them where they are. Don’t over-explain from an adult’s perspective; instead, ask clarifying questions so you know what they’re really asking. You may find their curiosity is smaller and simpler than you expect—and that your calm presence is more valuable than perfect answers.
3. Allow space for grief.
In his book The Wild Edge of Sorrow, Francis Weller writes,
“The gift of grief is the affirmation of life and of our intimacy with the world.”
To grieve, he says, is an act of bravery. It means we are still connected to what is good and beautiful, even when we’re heartbroken by what’s broken.
Weller describes a communal “stone ritual” as a way to process grief together:
gathering stones, naming each sorrow, and placing them in a shared bowl of water. Later, pouring that water into the earth becomes a way of returning our pain to something that can nourish new life.
That ritual may not fit every family—but the principle does. Grief shared is grief transformed. Whether through conversation, prayer, art, or nature, creating a space to express sadness together helps us move through it, not get stuck inside it.
4. Remember—we’re not the first.
The story of Scripture itself was forged in fear and uncertainty. The Hebrew people began writing down their stories during exile, and the earliest Christians lived under the threat of persecution.
In other words, the world has always been a scary place. Yet generation after generation, people of faith have found ways to hold on to hope. Remembering that truth doesn’t dismiss our fear—it roots us in a long tradition of resilience and trust.
A Question to Carry With You
Here’s a question worth sitting with—and even asking around the dinner table if you have older kids:
What’s the difference between living in denial and taking an intentional step back for our own good?
How can we find balance between being informed and being overwhelmed?
Every family will answer differently, and that’s okay. What matters is that we’re learning to notice the signals in ourselves and our kids—the ones that tell us we’ve reached our limit—and responding with care rather than shame.
Because the truth is, it’s not weak to step back. It’s wise.
It’s one small way of saying: we are deeply feeling people in a messy world—and we’re learning to stay tender anyway.
