When Our Kids Won’t Talk

One afternoon, my son came home visibly upset—his energy tense, his silence heavy. Trying to keep my own worry in check, I gently said, “Sweetie, you look upset.”

“I’m fine, Mommy,” he replied tersely, eyes downcast. Undeterred, I tried again, “You may not feel like talking right now, but sometimes talking it out can be helpful.”

But he wasn’t ready, and my words only seemed to increase his resistance. While I maintained a calm exterior, frustration bubbled up inside. I’m a psychiatrist—helping people feel better through conversation is literally part of my job. Yet here I was, at a loss with my own 10-year-old, who was clearly struggling but refusing to let me in. I tried every tool I had, pouring as much nonjudgmental curiosity and empathy as I could into my efforts.

Then it hit me—my need to know what was wrong was just that: my need. What he needed in that moment was space and emotional safety. He would share when he was ready—or maybe he wouldn’t—and he needed to feel that either way, our connection would remain intact.

As parents, we rightfully emphasize emotional awareness, encouraging our children to talk about their feelings so they can learn to manage them. But sometimes, we confuse teaching emotional awareness with satisfying our own need for control. We ask questions not only to help them but to ease our own discomfort with not knowing what’s wrong. For sensitive children, this can feel overwhelming—they need time to process their emotions in their own way. Our well-meaning probing can feel invasive when what they really need is space.

As both a psychiatrist and a parent, I’ve seen this dynamic play out countless times. I teach parents how to create emotionally supportive environments where children feel safe exploring their feelings. Yet, even with my own sensitive child, the best intentions can lead to frustration if I push too hard for a conversation.

Letting go of control in moments like these is key to fostering emotional intelligence in our children. Emotional intelligence—the ability to recognize, understand, and manage emotions—develops best when children are given the space to process their feelings without pressure. As they grow older, they naturally seek more independence, especially when it comes to handling their emotions. Our attempts to “talk things out” can feel like a tug of war—we want them to open up, but they want to manage things on their own terms. By releasing our need for control and focusing on connection, we give them the space to develop emotional intelligence at their own pace.

Psychologist Daniel Goleman, known for his work on emotional intelligence, highlights the importance of emotional attunement—being present without an agenda. But in that moment with my son, I did have an agenda: I wanted to extract information. That agenda was driven by my need to understand—and, at a deeper level, by my anxiety and desire for control. As a result, the empathy in my voice was superficial, and my capacity for true attunement suffered.

So, I took a deep breath. Instead of continuing to press for answers, I hugged him and told him I’d give him space but would be there if he needed me.

Later that evening, we went for a walk, as we often do after dinner. We walked side by side in silence. As I fidgeted with my pocket, I found a piece of candy I’d forgotten was there. I hadn’t planned it, but I handed it to him like a magician revealing a secret. He chuckled and accepted the gift. He was visibly more at ease compared with earlier in the afternoon. I joked that I regretted giving him the only candy I had and pretended I was going to steal it back.

“Too late!” he declared loudly, running ahead with a playful skip. “Fine! You can keep it!” I called after him, catching up as we both laughed. I wrapped him in a big squeeze and couldn’t help but blurt out, “I love you so much.”

He looked me in the eye and said, “I love you too, Mommy. Then, with a twinkle in his eyes and a victorious grin, he announced, “But I’m still not telling you what happened.”

I paused, letting his words settle. Then, as if sensing my lingering worry, he added, with an eye roll, “But don’t worry. I wasn’t hurt, and no one else was hurt. I’d tell you if it were something serious.”

I exhaled, feeling both relieved and at peace. This wasn’t a battle I needed to win. Parenting is about being present, attuned, and patient enough to let things unfold naturally. When we prioritize connection over forcing conversation, we allow our children to grow into emotionally aware and independent individuals.

My son was okay, and it was okay that he didn’t want to share what had upset him. More importantly, I realized that I was going to be okay, too.