When You Realize Love Isn't Enough
The Truth Every Parent Needs to Hear Before It’s Too Late
Maddie was back at NYGH. Seventh Floor North. Her second suicide attempt.
This time, she didn’t come home after a couple of weeks. She stayed. Nearly two months.
Most of the time, she was still Maddie.
Still sharp. Still funny. Still using me as her favourite verbal punching bag.
Just being playful. That was just our thing. I learned when to let her go off and when to play back.
We played games. She won. Every time.
Then she’d peacock around the room like she’d just won the world championship.
So much for being a gracious winner.
But that was Maddie. She was a competitor through and through.
She hadn’t had a proper physical outlet since she quit competitive swimming.
That energy didn’t go away. It just sat there under the surface.
About 95 percent of the time, she was calm. Playful even.
You’d think, maybe we’re through it. Maybe this is progress.
But the other five percent?
That was a storm. No warning. Just a sudden drop.
And when she dropped, she dropped hard.
You could see it in her face.
Her eyes would go hollow.
You could feel that something inside her had gone completely quiet. All signs of the Maddie we knew disappeared.
That’s when I realized something no parent wants to say out loud.
Love isn’t enough.
One afternoon, we were sitting on her hospital bed.
She wasn’t talking. She’d been off all day. I could tell something was coming.
Then she said it.
“I don’t want to be a burden anymore. I just want to die.”
I pulled her into me and held her tight. I couldn’t contain the sobbing that followed. It was full-on “hysteria passio”, that uncontrollable sobbing that feels like there’s inadequate oxygen getting to your lungs.
Like maybe if I held on hard enough, I could change something.
Like I could breathe better air into her lungs.
Make her feel wanted. Needed. Safe.
But it doesn’t work that way.
You can show up.
You can cook all the meals, go to all the appointments, and say all the right things.
You can love them harder than you’ve ever loved anything.
And still, they can want to leave.
That moment broke something in me.
Because I knew. I knew in my bones that I couldn’t save her with just love.
And that’s the truth no one tells you when you're parenting a struggling teen.
Sometimes love is not enough.
Not when they're drowning in pain they can't name.
Not when they’ve stopped believing they matter.
For the first time, I questioned whether we could save her or not
That truth is what led us to build The MentorWell.
Because when therapy feels too cold
and parenting starts to feel powerless,
your teen needs someone else in the room.
They need someone who isn’t trying to fix them.
Someone who listens.
Someone real.
Someone who can say,
“You're not broken. You're not too much. You just need space to figure things out.”
Mentorship isn’t the answer to everything.
But it can be the thing that helps them hold on.
It can be the thing that makes them feel seen before it’s too late.
It was too late for Maddie to get mentorship. If only I’d recognized it earlier.
If you’re wondering if your teen is really okay.
If you’re feeling scared but not sure what to do next.
Don’t wait for the big signs.
Let’s talk about mentorship.
Let’s talk about what support could actually look like.
