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Q

What We Call Behavior

What We Call Behavior

By Melanie Heitkamp, LCSW

What We See

 

He comes into the house and you can feel it before he even says a word.

The door shuts harder than it needs to. His shoes are kicked off in the middle of the entryway. His backpack hits the floor and slides into the wall. And just like that, the whole room adjusts. Conversations shift. Voices lower. A sibling disappears down the hallway. You find yourself paying closer attention, already trying to read what kind of night this is going to be.

You try to keep it simple.

“How was school?”

“Fine.”

It’s short. Closed. You know better than to push too hard right away, so you give it space. But it doesn’t really change anything.

Later, you ask about homework. Or remind him about something small. Something normal. And it turns almost immediately.

“Why do you always ask me that?”
“I said I’ll do it.”
“Just stop.”

His voice is louder now. Not just louder, but sharper. There’s an edge to it that feels out of proportion, but also familiar. You can feel your own reaction rising. You’re trying to stay calm, trying to keep it from escalating, but it’s getting harder to find the right tone, the right words, the right moment.

Some days it builds slowly. Other days it happens all at once. A look. A tone. A word taken the wrong way. And suddenly you’re in the middle of an argument that started over nothing and now feels like everything.

He pushes back on everything. Questions everything. Turns simple requests into long, circular conversations that don’t go anywhere. You repeat yourself. He talks over you. Walks away. Comes back louder.

It’s not one moment. It’s a pattern.

You still love your child. That doesn’t change.
But it gets harder to like them. Harder to enjoy being around them. Harder to recognize the kid you used to know in the middle of all of this.

And this is where the shift happens.

Because when it feels this constant and this personal, we start to make sense of it the only way we can. We start to name what we’re seeing.

Defiant. Disrespectful. Oppositional. Out of control.

And once those labels take hold, they begin to shape everything that comes next.

What He Feels

The day didn’t start off bad, but it didn’t go well either.

By second period, he’s already irritated. The teacher calls him out in front of everyone for not having something done. It’s quick, but it lands. A couple of kids look over. Someone laughs. He rolls his eyes, says something under his breath, acts like he doesn’t care, but it sticks with him.

The rest of the day is like that. Nothing big enough to get sent home for, but enough to keep building. A comment that feels unnecessary. A look from someone that lingers a little too long. Teachers asking questions he doesn’t want to answer. Work he doesn’t feel like doing because he’s already behind and doesn’t see the point in trying to catch up right now.

By lunch, he’s annoyed at everything. The noise, the people, the same conversations. He’s there, but he’s not really in it. Someone says something and he snaps back quicker than he should. It doesn’t turn into anything, but it’s there.

By the end of the day, he’s just done. Not tired in a normal way. Done with people, done with being asked things, done with feeling like he’s always either getting called out or expected to do something he doesn’t want to do.

On the way home, it’s just there. That same edge. He doesn’t really shake it. It carries with him.

So when he walks in the door, it doesn’t take much.

A question about school.
A reminder about homework.
A tone that feels off, even if it isn’t.

And it hits immediately.

It lands like one more thing he doesn’t want to deal with, and he reacts without thinking. His answers get short, his tone sharp, and he pushes back right away.

From the outside, it looks like he doesn’t care. But underneath that, it’s heavier than that. Things that used to feel manageable don’t anymore. Small things feel bigger than they should. It’s harder to get started, harder to care, harder to believe it’s going to go any differently tomorrow.

He’s not saying that out loud.

But it’s there.

And after a while, it settles in.

Why even try.

Sometimes the behavior is the signal, not the problem.

What We Miss

Over time, these behaviors often get labeled. Defiant. Oppositional. Disrespectful. Sometimes those labels come from schools. Sometimes from professionals. Sometimes from parents trying to make sense of what they’re seeing.

But when we only label the behavior, we miss what is underneath it. And when we miss that, our response doesn’t match what they actually need.

  • Anger can be depression.
    In teens, depression often shows up as irritability, frustration, and a short temper. It doesn’t always look like sadness.
  • Refusal can be anxiety.
    Avoiding homework, shutting down, or saying “no” can come from feeling overwhelmed or afraid of getting it wrong.
  • Blow-ups can be a trauma response.
    Fast reactions, going from calm to intense quickly, or struggling to settle back down can be signs that their system is already on edge.
  • “Not caring” can be hopelessness.
    When a young person feels like nothing is getting better, it can look like they’ve stopped trying.

What This Means for Parents

If this is what’s really underneath the behavior, then the response has to shift.

Not away from expectations.
But away from reacting only to what you see.

 

Here are a few things you can try tonight:

1. Pause and stay calm.

When things start to heat up, stop for a second. Take a breath. Keep your voice steady, even if theirs isn’t.

2. Pick one thing to focus on.

Don’t try to fix everything at once. Choose one issue and let the rest wait.

3. Say what you see.

Try: “You seem really on edge tonight.”
Not: “Why are you acting like this?”

4. Don't solve it right then.

If it’s already a fight, take a break. Come back later when things are calm.

5. Help them see a way forward.

Focus on one small next step. Something they can do right now that feels manageable.

6. Get more support if needed.

If this keeps happening or feels bigger than what you can manage, it may be time to talk to a counselor, school support, or provider who can help you better understand what’s going on.

7. Say it out loud: you love them and you're on their side

Even if they don’t respond, even if they brush it off, they need to hear it. Try: “I love you. I’m here. We’ll figure this out.” It doesn’t solve the moment, but it reminds them they’re not alone.

If you are living this, it’s understandable that you feel frustrated, worn down, and even angry at times. When every interaction feels like a fight, it takes a toll.

What’s important to remember is that this behavior may not mean what it looks like on the surface. What feels like defiance can be anxiety. What feels like disrespect can be overwhelm. What looks like not caring can be a young person who has started to believe that trying won’t make a difference.

You don’t have to figure everything out right away. But how you respond in these moments matters. Small changes can start to shift what happens next.

And if it doesn’t improve, or if it continues to feel bigger than what you can manage at home, that’s a sign to bring in additional support. You don’t have to navigate this alone.

 

 


About the Author

Melanie Heitkamp, LCSW, is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker with over 40 years of experience serving youth and families in North Dakota. She began her career as a Child Welfare Investigator and spent nearly four decades as Executive Director of Youthworks. Melanie is a tireless advocate for trauma-informed care, youth voice, and prevention services. She believes in meeting youth with kindness, accountability, and unwavering belief in their potential.

A message from Mark Heinert, Executive Director

Mel names something that a lot of families and professionals feel but don’t always have language for—the moment when behavior starts to feel personal, and the labels start to stick.

We see that every day at Youthworks. Young people come in already carrying those labels—defiant, oppositional, disrespectful. And once they’ve heard those words enough, they start to carry them, too.

What Mel reminds us is that behavior is often a signal, not the full story.

I was reminded of that in a really meaningful way last week.

I got a call from a former youth—she’s in her 30s now. She wanted to share that she’s raising her own kids and going back to school to study psychology. Her story hasn’t been easy. It started hard, and there were a lot of challenges along the way.

But what she talked about wasn’t any specific program or intervention.

She remembered being given a voice.

She remembered being treated like a real person—someone who had struggles, but wasn’t defined by them.

And for whatever reason, that stuck with her. Enough that years later, she reached out to share how she’s doing.

It’s a simple reminder, but an important one.

The relationship matters. Being heard matters.

We can’t ignore mental health—those challenges are real and they show up in behavior in ways that are hard for everyone. But there’s always more to a young person than what we see in the moment, or what ends up written in a file.

Sometimes the most important thing we do is make sure they know they’re more than that.

And when that happens, it sticks.