letting them screw up

I know. You love them more than anything. You would walk through fire for them. You have poured everything:  your time, your energy, your heart, into making sure their life is better than yours was. You never want them to feel the sting of failure, the weight of a bad decision, or the embarrassment of not showing up. You want to propel them forward. You want them to win.

And that's exactly the problem.

Because here's the truth no one wants to say out loud: when we swoop in, fix it, take over, and do everything in our power to control how our kids' lives turn out, we are setting them up for real failure.

Not the kind of failure that builds character. The other kind. The kind that looks like a young adult who is paralyzed by decisions, who doesn't trust themselves, who waits endlessly for the "perfect" choice because they've never been allowed to make a bad one. The kind that looks like someone who genuinely doesn't know what they're capable of  because they were never given the chance to find out.

That is not what we want for our kids. Not even close.

My son, the fraternity, and the voice in my Head

Let me get personal for a second.

My son is in college. And recently, he told me he wants to rush a fraternity.

I'll be honest, my first instinct was to manage it. To sit him down and say: Is this really the best decision right now? Your grades need to be your priority. I don't want to see you get distracted. I don't want your GPA to slip. Every single one of those sentences was right there on the tip of my tongue, ready to go.

I didn't say them.

Not because I don't care about his grades. I absolutely do. But because I caught myself doing the thing I know doesn't serve him. Steering the ship. Taking the wheel on a journey that is his to navigate, not mine. The moment I open my mouth and redirect his decision, I'm not protecting him. I'm robbing him.

Here's what I know pledging a fraternity will teach him that I never could sitting across a kitchen table: how to manage his time when there are genuine competing demands on it. How to build real friendships and figure out who he wants to surround himself with. How to show up for a commitment even when it's inconvenient. How to balance priorities when life isn't handing him a neat, tidy schedule because it never will. These are not small lessons. These are the lessons. And he can only learn them by living them.

Could his grades slip? Maybe. And if they do, that consequence will teach him more than any warning I could have issued ever would. He will feel it. He will own it. And he will decide what to do next  because that's what people do when they're allowed to be in charge of their own lives.

That is so much more valuable than me swooping in and keeping everything safe and controlled and managed.

So he is going to rush. I'm keeping my opinions to myself. And honestly? I'm proud of myself for it because it is genuinely one of the hardest things I've done as a parent.

What We Actually Want

We want to raise humans who trust themselves. Who can make a decision, even an imperfect one,  and move forward with confidence. Who know, deep in their bones, that if something doesn't work out, they will figure it out. That's the real goal. Not a spotless record. Not a path free of struggle. Self-trust. Resilience. The unshakeable belief that they can handle life.

And here's the hard truth: the only way they develop that is by screwing up. By feeling the consequences of their own choices. By discovering, through lived experience, what happens when they show up and what happens when they don't.

We cannot shortcut this for them. We can only get out of the way.

What "Letting Them Screw Up" Actually Looks Like

This isn't about being cold or checked out. It's about being intentional. It's about biting your tongue, sitting on your hands, and trusting the process,  even when it's hard to watch.

It looks like letting them skip practice and allowing the coach to handle the consequence. It looks like not reminding them about the assignment that's due, and letting a late grade be the teacher, not you. It's letting them quit the sport they've lost interest in, even if you already paid for the season. It's watching them game all evening instead of studying, and letting the test score speak for itself. It's letting your college kid rush a fraternity and trusting that whatever happens next, he will learn something essential about himself in the process.

None of this is easy. It will feel wrong. Your brain will scream that you're failing them. But you're not. You're doing the bravest, most loving thing a parent can do: you're letting reality be their teacher.

When your kid experiences a consequence: a dropped grade, a benched game, a semester where they had to figure out how to juggle more than they expected,  two things happen. First, they feel it. Really feel it. And second, they realize: I did that. Which means I can also do something different next time. That is the beginning of self-trust. You cannot manufacture it for them. They have to earn it themselves.

The Shift We Need to Make

This is not about letting go because you don't care. It's about letting go because you care: deeply, fiercely, completely. It's about choosing their long-term growth over your short-term comfort. It's about resisting the urge to manage their life so that they can learn to manage it themselves.

Your kid doesn't need a parent who steers the ship. They need a parent who trusts them enough to take the wheel  and who is still standing on the dock, steady and loving, no matter how the voyage goes.

The screwups aren't the problem. They're the point.

Let them make mistakes. Let them feel the weight of their choices. Let them discover who they are when things don't go according to plan.

That is how you raise a human who can take on the world.

And that? That's everything.

Your Kid Deserves This Too

Here's the thing — if your teen is already feeling stuck, paralyzed, or like they can't make a move without looking over their shoulder for your approval, that's worth paying attention to. Not with panic. With curiosity.

I work with teens and young adults who are ready to start trusting themselves,  to get out of their own heads, make decisions with confidence, and stop waiting for someone else to tell them they got it right. It's some of the most rewarding work I do, watching a kid go from frozen to fearless.

If your teen could use that kind of support, someone in their corner who isn't mom or dad, who they can be completely honest with, and who will help them figure out who they want to be, let's talk.

Not a lecture. Not more pressure. Just a space that's entirely theirs.

👉 Click here to set up a time to connect. Tell me a little about your teen and let's see if it's a good fit.

Because the greatest gift you can give them isn't a perfect path. It's the belief that they can handle whatever path they choose.