Imagine a teenager. A young woman, 17, average job, above-average grades, good friends—a pretty decent kid all around.
She struggles to wake up in the morning, and even though she wants to start her day early, she’s never able to get enough sleep. Staying awake in class is a challenge, but seeing as this is an everyday occurrence, and the majority of her friends feel the same way, it doesn’t really seem like a problem. She drives to school daily, despite it being only a few blocks away, out of convenience and safety. Her father would never let her walk that far by herself even if she wanted to.
Her workload is overall commonplace for kids like her, although there were a few clubs she had to pass up because they were more fun than they were practical. She keeps up with her athletics and volunteer group after school, and she works a part-time job a few nights out of the week.
A good portion of her remaining time is eaten up by homework. Although most AP classes never really appealed to her interests, she was told that they were best for college and took them to prepare for the future. She sort of regrets that choice, and unfortunately, considering the fee for the exams was high, it’s too late to go back on it.
When she gets home from school, her father is already half-asleep on the couch. She knows he worked a long day and leaves him be. He’s not a bad dad—far from it—nevertheless, most of his time is spent working and he’s constantly exhausted trying to provide for her and her siblings, therefore they don’t spend much time together. Not to mention, nobody in the house has time or energy to cook a big family meal, so with only an hour between getting home and going to work, most of her meals are quick and easy or cooked in the microwave, straight out of the freezer.
Going through the basic motions at work, she has time to think about recent events. In the past month, she broke up with her (now ex) boyfriend. As it turns out, their political views were more different than she was led to believe. Not in a menial way, one that could be solved in an agree-to-disagree sort of fashion, but in a vastly, terribly different kind of way. In a he-doesn’t-think-women-should-be-allowed-to-vote sort of way.
She isn’t the only girl she knows that has had to reevaluate her partnership due to political differences. It’s been weird.
“Young women have become significantly more liberal and embraced ‘anti-patriarchal’ values over the last decade, while young men have stayed relatively the same,” a Brookings article on the political gender gap said.
While she was vaguely aware of this fact, it didn’t come up in her life until now. Suddenly it seems like one of the most prominent facts of the political climate, and it frightens her a little bit.
She feels pity for her male friends who want to avoid being lumped in with that crowd, and worse for the poor boys who did become sucked into that toxic culture, one that preys on their insecurities and fears. She worries for her younger brothers.
But in all honesty, she’s been trying to keep her mind off of politics for the most part. They’re overwhelming. So when she gets home from work, while a part of her wants to pull out a coloring book she was gifted over the holidays, she instead lies in bed and pulls out TikTok.
It takes a while to realise how much time has passed, because at this point, past midnight, she no longer feels tired. Ashamedly, the nightly scroll has become a habit for her. Pulling away is just so difficult. She remembers few of the videos she saw, yet she does remember a few touching on current events, putting a pit in her stomach for long enough that she comes out of the haze feeling pensive.
Whenever she thinks long enough, she does acknowledge that social media makes her feel awful. Constantly floating through the rapid tide of tightly-packaged content, hit both with mildly funny and deeply upsetting or angering posts all in one session, resultantly she feels more desensitized to everything. She knows it wastes so much of her time; she knows she has an addiction. Talking about it, though, feels redundant. Everybody knows social media is bad for you. It’s just so socially acceptable that breaking out of it is practically taboo.
A friend texts to ask if they can call, and considering it might be important this late at night, she agrees. A member of their friend group passed away recently, another thing weighing on her mind as of late, and despite adults’ half-hearted offers to talk whenever needed, she hasn’t accepted any of them. Being hyper-vigilant of one another’s feelings feels like the only viable grief counseling they have.
“Does it feel to you,” the friend asks, following stunted small talk, “like we’re preparing for a future that just might not even come? Like we’re about to enter adulthood exactly when the world is falling apart?”
And she doesn’t know how to answer. Because the truth is, that is precisely what it feels like to so many teenagers right now.
An article on the CDC reports, “Poor mental and behavioral health among adolescents remains a substantial public health concern.” Four-in-ten high school students feel continued hopelessness, three-in-ten report poor mental health, one-in-five have seriously considered suicide, and nearly one-in-ten have attempted. These numbers are significantly higher among female, LGBTQ+, and non-caucasian students.
Suicide is the second leading cause of death for teenagers.
Tell me, why is there a teenage mental health crisis?
