Welcome to Book Bites, where we take big ideas and break them down into small, digestible pieces. Glad to be here. So today, we're looking at Abigail Schreier's book from 2024, Bad Therapy, Why the Kids Aren't Growing Up.
It's about 350 pages, got a lot of attention, over 10,000 ratings, averaging around four stars. Yeah. Definitely sparked some conversations.
And it really dives into this question that feels, well, pretty relevant right now. Why does it seem like this generation of young people is reporting, you know, higher rates of loneliness, anxiety, depression, just feeling helpless? And Schreier offers a, let's say, provocative answer. Her core argument is that maybe all these well-meaning therapeutic ideas that have seeped into parenting, into schools, maybe they're actually doing more harm than good.
Hmm. Controversial. A bit, yeah.
She's suggesting we might be making kids less resilient, not more. Okay. Let's unpack that.
Schreier talks about this therapeutic takeover. What exactly does she mean by that? Well, she argues that the way the mental health field thinks and talks has kind of permeated everything. How parents raise kids, how teachers interact with students, how kids even understand their own emotions and social lives.
And her concern is that this constant therapeutic lens, this focus, might actually be dialing up the anxiety and dialing down kids' ability to, you know, cope with just the normal stuff life throws at you. So how does that actually play out? She gives that mountain climbing example. Yeah, that quote.
If you want to, let's say, climb a mountain, if you start asking yourself after two steps, how do I feel? You'll stay at the bottom. Her point seems to be that this constant self-monitoring of emotions before you even really act can paralyze you. You get stuck ruminating, analyzing feelings instead of just doing the thing.
Instead of tackling the problem or the challenge. She seems to favor pushing kids towards action, towards engagement, towards learning by doing, rather than getting caught in this loop of constant emotional check-ins. Okay.
That makes a certain kind of sense. Yeah. And I guess this connects to her critique of what she calls trauma-informed approaches.
It does. Now, obviously, being sensitive to actual trauma is vital. No one's arguing that.
But Schreier worries that applying a trauma lens really broadly, almost universally, might lead us to pathologize normal difficulties. We might be over-diagnosing, essentially. And maybe undermining kids' natural ability to bounce back.
That seems to be her concern. That we inadvertently send the message that ordinary stressors are traumatic and that kids are inherently fragile. She quotes someone from a different cultural background.
Finding our approach just insane, I think, was the word. Wow. So comparing it to how past generations maybe dealt with hardship without labeling everything.
Right. She brings in that historical perspective. Previous generations faced immense challenges without this widespread framework of trauma for everyday difficulties.
Maybe there's something to learn there about building resilience through adversity, not just by avoiding it or labeling it. Which then leads into social-emotional learning or SEL programs. These are huge in schools now.
Huge. And again, the goal helping kids understand emotions get along better seems positive. Of course.
But Schreier raises questions. Is the heavy focus on analyzing feelings in a classroom setting, maybe, interfering with how kids naturally learn social skills through, you know, actual interaction? Like navigating playground squabbles on their own. Exactly.
Unstructured play, figuring out rules, resolving conflicts, even experiencing minor social bumps and bruises. She suggests maybe that's more effective than structured lessons sometimes, letting natural consequences happen. It's that idea of organic learning versus maybe over-managed learning.
Sort of. Are we taking away opportunities for kids to develop their own problem-solving skills, their own social muscles, by constantly stepping in to mediate and analyze every little feeling? And this theme of, let's call it over-intervention, seems to run through her points on diagnosis too. Diagnostic inflation.
Yes. She's definitely concerned about that. The idea that we might be too quick to label kids with conditions like ADHD, for example, and reach for medication.
Right. She has that quote, ADHD is not an illness and Ritalin is not a cure. That's pretty direct.
Very direct. And obviously that's a highly debated topic. But her point is to question if we're sometimes masking other issues, maybe behavioral problems, maybe environmental factors with a diagnosis and a pill, when other interventions might be better long-term.
So behavioral changes, looking at the kid's environment first. That seems to be the alternative focus she suggests. Are we exploring those avenues thoroughly before jumping to medication and potentially creating dependency? It really feels like she's arguing that all these layers of therapeutic approaches, diagnosis, constant emotional focus, they might be undermining something fundamental.
Like parental authority and confidence. That's a big one for her. Yeah.
How so? She feels that this heavy reliance on expert advice on therapeutic parenting scripts has made parents doubt their own instincts, their own judgment. Hmm. I can see how that might happen.
There's that quote she uses, something like, parents know this. It's why before the experts got involved, we were always beta testing our kids, teasing, hectoring, hugging, you know, that kind of messy real life interaction. Letting them fail sometimes, but being there to help them up.
Exactly. Letting them feel the sting of ignoring a warning, but then brushing them off, sending them on their way. She argues that intuitive trial and error parenting might actually build more resilience than these sort of pre-packaged expert models.
And the downside is confusion for kids and maybe more power struggles if parents feel less sure of themselves. That seems to be the implication. A less confident parent might lead to a less secure child or one who pushes boundaries more because the lines aren't as clear.
So if we pull back, what's the alternative she's pushing for, it sounds like? Letting kids experience some hardship. Yeah. Controlled adversity, I think, is a good way to put it.
She strongly believes kids need appropriate levels of risk, challenge, independence to build that resilience muscle. It's not about throwing them to the wolves, but... No, not at all. It's about things like letting them play freely, maybe get a scrape, giving them real responsibilities where they might mess up sometimes.
She says moderate deprivation and sacrifice, challenge, independence, risk, all of those turned out to be very good. So those little struggles are actually learning opportunities, not things to be shielded from entirely. Precisely.
Shielding them from everything might inadvertently tell them you can't handle this, which isn't great for developing competence or self-belief. Okay. And we can't talk about kids today without talking technology.
How does that fit into her argument? The digital dilemma. Yeah. She sees smartphones and social media as major exacerbators of these problems.
Fueling anxiety comparison. Right. And reducing real face-to-face time where social skills are actually honed.
She calls smartphones an accommodation, a gizmo of avoidance and rumination. Oof. Strong words.
Yeah. Basically the last thing kids need when they're trying to figure out how to be adults in the real world. It becomes an escape that prevents them from developing coping skills.
So setting boundaries around tech is key from her perspective. Absolutely seems to be. You know, listening to all this, it really sounds like Schreier is making a case for, well, for more traditional parenting ideas almost.
In a way, yes. Clear boundaries, natural consequences, trusting parental intuition more than maybe we've been encouraged to lately. She has that line, we didn't want to place our kids in a chemical straitjacket or spend all day covering for them.
Right. It suggests a desire for a more straightforward approach. Less analyzing, less manipulating outcomes, more just.
Setting expectations and letting kids learn from experience, good and bad. Which ultimately comes back to the parents feeling empowered. Exactly.
That seems to be the linchpin for her. Restoring parental confidence and authority. She ends with that powerful quote.
The one about you are somebody, because you are everything to your kid. Yes. When she considers how an adult should conduct herself, her mind invariably turns to you.
It puts the parent right back at the center as the key guide and role model. So wrapping it up, bad therapy is essentially a critique, a pretty sharp one, arguing that we've overdone the therapeutic approach with kids. Right.
And that this over-therapizing might be unintentionally causing harm, what she calls iatrogenesis, harm from the healer leading to more anxiety, less resilience. And she calls for a return to things like independence, facing challenges, clear boundaries, and confident parenting. That's the core message.
Now, it's definitely worth noting this book has been met with mixed reactions. You bet. Some people really resonate with it, feel it's saying something important that needed to be said.
Others find it oversimplified, maybe unfairly critical of mental health professionals and practices that do help many kids. So it's definitely not the final word, but it's kicked off a big conversation. For sure.
A necessary conversation, probably, about how we raise kids today and what truly helps them thrive. Absolutely. A lot to think about there.
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