Through the Eyes of a Child: On Healing the Roots of Our Children’s Mental Health Crisis

When my eleven year old was two and a half, he dropped out of preschool. He was so anxious that he couldn’t leave the house. So I shut down my practice and researched what a human needs to be healthy. I changed his diet, had him walk on the earth in his bare feet, took him into nature, helped him connect to kids his age in the neighborhood and supported him socially to build his confidence. And I made sure he moved his body. Slowly, I got my son back. 

I’ve been practicing in community based mental health for almost three years. I have been on the front lines, in family’s homes, and what I have witnessed is the root causes of our children’s mental health crisis. To begin with, children who are lonely, waiting for their parents to put down their phone. Children with noses pressed against the windows, waiting for someone to take them outside. 

To breathe fresh air. To bask in sunlight. To move their bodies as they are meant to. And they are detained inside. As if still on lockdown. They are given devices instead of connections. Control instead of freedom. Gummy fruit snacks instead of fruit. Disconnected from community because no one is playing outside. 

No nature, no nurture. No play. Lonely. Isolated. And some of them, by the age of six, are suicidal. Lest you think this is the product of socioeconomics, I assure you: I work with families at all levels of society. In fact, I have found that in general, the more means a family has, the less connected they tend to be. 

I’m angry. We should all be angry. How did we allow ourselves to become walking zombies? Addicted to our screens, terrified of letting our children outside to play, making them prey for pedophiles on screens. I’ve worked with children and their caregivers from infancy through adolescence. Several children that I work with, under age five, watch a cartoon based on the character of Siren head, which talks about cannibalism. Caregivers are shocked when I tell them this. 

How have we allowed ourselves to replace real food with fake alternatives? How have we become so disconnected from ourselves and our children that some of us spend the equivalent of a full time job on our screens each week?

We were never meant to live like this. 

So, I take families outside. I ask them about replacing fruit snacks with real fruit. I have them put down the screens. And connect to each other. I help them find ways to move their bodies in the backyard. Or the park. Red light, green light. Throwing a football. The simple pleasures that were a Sunday staple of families not so long ago. I teach them to play together. 

At first it’s triggering for the parents. Because they haven’t connected with their kids for so long. In some cases, ever. But slowly, connection replaces control.  The shadows are brought into the light, where they subside with meaning making and reflection. The little ones move their bodies, and for a moment, or two, their caregiver remembers what it felt like to be free. 

We are a slave race, us humans. On a prison planet. And we have enslaved ourselves, happily given up our freedom for temporary dopamine hits. We’ve happily given over our own mental health. And sentenced our children to exile in their own homes. From what I’ve witnessed, the only children, without siblings, suffer the most. There is no one to talk to, play with, when the parent is on the phone. No neighbor kids knocking on the door to play anymore. They are “safe” within the walls of their houses. And aching to be seen, heard, and acknowledged. They make up most of my caseload in community-based work. 

We need to return to our roots. Eating from the earth. Meditation and mindfulness. Actual spiritual practices. Not an hour in a church on Sunday. But spirituality as a daily practice. We need to be outdoors and in nature as much as we can be. This means nutrition boxes have actual produce from the farmer’s market, and schools serve meals that actually look like food and don’t have toxic chemicals in them. This means teaching meditation and mindfulness in schools. We need gardens in schools where students can sit and benefit from exposure to plants. And even grow food for the school cafeteria.

This means helping families connect to the community in their neighborhoods. Community centers that actually benefit the community, offering childcare for parents’ nights out. Offering wellness classes and holistic practices that are funded and don’t cost a fortune. This means exercise as a part of daily living. We need to put down the devices, get out in the neighborhood, and get the street ball games going again. We need to live connected to ourselves, each other, our neighborhood, and nature again. Like our ancestors. And it does start with us. 

I often feel that I’m parenting against the culture with my boys. With their screen limits and time playing together in the backyard, getting muddy, swinging on the tree swing, and climbing their special tree. Making real meals, sitting down together. If I can do that while working full time and running a household as a single mother, then most people can. We just need to make a choice: disconnect from the device and connect with our children. Go outside with them. Go for a walk. Sit in the sun and get your vitamin D. Throw a football. Play a game. Cook with them. Ask them what they would like to do with you.

And do it before it’s too late. By late childhood, if they do not have the connection they need, the light will go out in their eyes. I’ve seen it in my clients. Then it’s zombies raising zombies. And it is so much harder to get them back. It’s time to wake up. Because we’re running out of time. You’ll blink, and their childhood will be over. And you’ll wonder where it all went. 

My eleven year old is getting ready to go into middle school. I am bracing for it. But he’s thriving. He’s gifted and on the spectrum, known as “twice exceptional.” He has a group of friends whom he adores, and they adore him. He is happy, content, and connected. 

Lately he has been walking my five-year-old across the street to ask his five-year-old friend to play, teaching him how to knock, ask to play, and handle the answer. It’s almost always yes. And then they stay there, and the neighbor mom texts me “Hey I’ve got them” or they come back over.and I text her “Hey, I’ve got him.” And it feels good. This connectedness. The older brother mentoring the younger one, who is also neurodivergent. This is how it was meant to be: the older ones shepherding the younger ones into society. And I marvel at how far we’ve come as a family. At the progress the families I work with make. And I know that progress could be seen on a societal, even global scale. We just need to put down the phone and go knock on our neighbor’s door. Today.