They were a disaster all afternoon…then later, when you were taking their lunchbox out of their backpack, you discovered it was totally untouched. They were whining like crazy…and then woke up the next day with a fever. They did precisely what you told them not to do…and then you found out they didn’t understand what you meant or why it was important—like at all.

They were falling behind in school…and then you find out they’re dyslexic. All the problems in their teen years…and in a conversation when they’re older, they tell you how depressed they were, how near they came to self-harm.

When this information comes to you, it’s always a surprise. You immediately feel guilty. Of course! It explains it all. Why didn’t you see? Why didn’t they just tell you?

As we’ve talked about before here, countless times, it’s because they didn’t know. They didn’t know how. ​They didn’t know what they were feeling​. And besides, ​you didn’t exactly make it easy.​

We didn’t know, but at the same time, ​we should have known​. Why did we assume the problem was them? Why did we so quickly think it was an issue of character instead of context? Why was our default to be so hard on them? Give them the benefit of the doubt. If you’re going to assume anything, assume facts not in evidence. Inquire about those facts. Help them see them too. Give them a break.