Ever tried to get your teenager to do something simple—like unpack the dishwasher, turn down the music, or respond to a text with actual words? It can feel like trying to program a microwave using only interpretive dance. You’re waving your arms with purpose, absolutely certain you’ve made your point… but all you get is beeping, confusion, and a growing urge to just give up and do it yourself.
And then, when your teen pushes back—snapping, stonewalling, or rolling their eyes so hard you worry they’ll get stuck—something kicks in. You feel the heat rise, the panic flicker, the old scripts bubble up. We reach for our no -nonsense parenting utility belt. Before you can say “Holy handcuffs, Batman!” we threaten. We bribe. We lecture. We ground. We take the phone, the WiFi, the bedroom door.
Anything to regain a sense of order and certainty in the moment.
It’s instinctive.
It feels productive.
It’s what good parents do.
Sometimes, it even works—briefly.
But over time, those type power plays start to cost more than they deliver.
What we hope will lead to cooperation ends up creating more conflict. The louder we get, the further they pull away. The more pressure we apply, the more they resist—or retreat.
It becomes a dance we know too well: the more insistent we are, the more resistant they become. And slowly, subtly, parenting starts to feel less like connection, and more like combat.
For many of us, this becomes the rhythm of daily life. What once was about nurturing, exploring, and laughing together turns into a series of tactical exchanges—battles over homework, curfews, screens, and silence. We stop wondering who they’re becoming, and start focusing on how to just get through the day without another blow-up.
And that discomfort we sometimes carry—the one we can’t quite name—isn’t just exhaustion. It’s the grief of losing the relationship we always hoped we’d have.
What Are External Controls?
When parenting starts to feel like a daily series of negotiations, warnings, or stand-offs, it’s easy to slip into habits that centre around managing behaviour at all costs.
So we double down. We remove privileges. We offer rewards. We issue threats that sound dramatic even to us—but we say them anyway.
“If you don’t get off that Xbox in two minutes, I’m throwing it out the window.”
“You’re grounded for a month. Actually, forever. Don’t even ask.”
“If you clean your room, I’ll shout you Uber Eats.”
Sound familiar?
Of course it does—because this is what parents do when we’re trying to get our teenagers to comply.
As parents, our desire is often to regain some control, to stop the spiralling conflict, to feel like something we say still has weight. We’re not trying to dominate—we’re just trying to restore some sanity in the chaos. To get through the moment without losing the plot.
These aren’t the tactics we dreamed of using back when our kids were toddlers and we imagined ourselves as calm, wise, boundary-holding yogis.
But in the middle of real-life teenage resistance—when you’re staring down a slammed door or a look that says “you’re the least qualified human on earth to speak to me about anything”—they start to feel like the only tools we’ve got left.
This is the territory of external controls—strategies that aim to shape children’s behaviour using outside pressure.
That pressure might come in the form of punishment, reward, guilt, fear, or emotional leverage. But at their core, external controls are all about getting compliance by applying consequences to our child, rather than working with our child.
And we use them because they often work. At least in the short term.
Take away the phone? Homework gets done.
Threaten to cancel the party? The room gets cleaned.
Yell loud enough? You might get your teen to move—eventually.
These tactics can deliver results. And that’s why they’re so seductive.
They help us feel in control again. They create quick consequences. They give us something—anything—to push back with when we feel like we’re being steamrolled by attitude, avoidance, or apathy.
But there is a catch: external controls don’t teach skills. They don’t build insight. They don’t foster connection.
What they often do instead is create a parenting dynamic based on power, not relationship.
And when parenting becomes about power, older kids and teens don’t usually lean in—they lean out.
The Problems with External Control
External control might get a short-term result, but over time, it tends to erode the very things we’re trying to build: trust, motivation, responsibility, and connection.
Here’s how it often plays out.
Insistence Creates Resistance
We make a reasonable request. They ignore it. We ask again. They get defensive. We raise our voice. They go full teenage shutdown mode.
What started as a simple request turns into a battle of wills.
Why? Because pressure creates pushback. Especially in teenagers. It’s not that they want to be difficult. But they need to feel autonomous. Resistance is one of the few ways they can claim that space.
They Learn to Strategise, Not Share
If telling the truth gets them grounded or grilled, they adapt. They edit. They withhold. They say what they think we want to hear. Or they say nothing at all.
It’s not necessarily malicious. It’s strategic. A way to preserve some sense of control in a world where it feels like most decisions are being made for them.
Obedience Replaces Ownership
Teens who do things only to avoid punishment or get a reward don’t necessarily understand why those things matter. They learn to comply—but not to care.
They follow the rules when someone’s watching, but struggle when they’re on their own.
What they don’t develop is a sense of ownership—of their choices, their responsibilities, their growth.
The Relationship Starts to Wither
This one creeps up on you. At first, they still talk. Still hang around. Still smile occasionally.
But gradually, something shifts. They come to you less. Confide less. Trust you less. The distance doesn’t show up all at once.
It’s a slow fading. And you don’t always notice it until it’s already taken root.
The warmth gets replaced with wariness. The connection becomes conditional. And somewhere deep down, both of you feel the ache of what’s being lost.
Why Teens Behave the Way They Do
Most of the time, your teen isn’t trying to be difficult. They’re trying to meet a need.
Not a surface-level “I want the last slice of pizza” kind of need—but something deeper. A need to feel respected. A need to have some control. A need to belong, to feel capable, to enjoy life on their own terms.
That’s the heart of what psychologist William Glasser called Choice Theory—the idea that all behaviour is an attempt to meet internal needs. We don’t act randomly or maliciously. We act because we’re trying to get something we feel we’re missing.
Dr Ross Greene adds another layer to interpreting resistant behaviour when he says that what kids and teens are often missing is a skill they haven’t mastered yet or an expectation they don’t know how to meet. Behaviour isn’t just a problem to solve—it’s communication. A signal. A flag that says, “I need help with this.”
So when your teen is moody, defiant, distant, or flat-out ignoring you, it’s not always about you. It’s often about them trying—awkwardly, clumsily—to satisfy a need they might not even be able to name, or to cope with a demand they don’t yet have the tools to manage.
Here’s where it gets tricky: when we respond to their behaviour with external control, we often miss the need entirely—or worse, we trample right over it.
• A teen acting out for connection gets punished with isolation.
• A teen craving autonomy is met with micro-management.
• A teen struggling to self-regulate is labelled lazy or rude.
And the very thing they were aching for—or needing help with—just got further out of reach.
This is how we end up in loops that feel impossible to break. The more we try to control the behaviour, the more the underlying need goes unmet. The more the need goes unmet, the more extreme the behaviour becomes. Until one day, we find ourselves wondering, “Why is everything such a battle now?”
A helpful shift can be, rather than asking “How do I stop this behaviour?” we can start asking “What’s driving it?” or “What’s getting in the way?”
Because when we understand the need—or the missing skill—we can respond to the person instead of just reacting to the moment.
And that’s where real change begins.
Springs & Magnets: Two Ways to Parent
Let’s talk about springs and magnets. No, this isn’t a sudden shift into Year 9 physics. It’s one of the simplest ways to picture how influence works—and why some parenting approaches create friction, while others foster long-term cooperation.
The Spring
Imagine your child is a coiled spring. The more pressure you apply downwards —rules, rewards, threats, lectures, consequences—the more tension you create. For a while, they might hold. Stay quiet. Go along. Maybe even mumble a “fine” through gritted teeth.
But springs aren’t built to stay compressed forever.
And the thing about springs? The more you push, the more energy they store. That energy doesn’t disappear. It waits. And the moment your pressure eases—when you’re not watching, when the consequence ends, when they’re out of the house—that energy is released. Sometimes in silence. Sometimes in spectacular fashion.
External control works like that. It relies on your force to shape behaviour, and that force has to be constantly maintained. Let up, and things spring right back to where they were—or worse.
It’s like holding a beach ball underwater: the second you take your hand off it, it shoots to the surface and smacks you in the face.
Which, now that I think about it, is not a bad metaphor for parenting a teenager in general.
The Magnet
Now picture a magnet.
Magnets don’t force. They attract. And that’s exactly what relational influence does. It draws your teen in—not necessarily to the kitchen for a chat, but into something far more important: respect, trust, and emotional credibility. It keeps you on their internal radar, even when you’re not on their playlist.
Magnet-style parenting isn’t about being their best friend or their emotional barista. It’s about being someone whose presence holds weight—because you’ve earned it. And how do you earn it?
By being calm over-reactive.
Curious over controlling.
Collaborative over combative.
When your teen feels respected, heard, and guided (not managed), something shifts. They don’t always agree with you. They’ll still disappear into their room and eat snacks like a raccoon behind a bin. But they’ll also think about what you’ve said. They’ll carry your words with them—even if they pretend they’re not listening.
This kind of influence doesn’t fade the moment you leave the room. You don’t have to constantly be in enforcement mode. You’re not powering change with pressure—you’re building something that can stand on its own. Something that holds its shape even when you’re not around to hold it together.
From Managing to Connecting
Let’s be honest—most of us didn’t get a parenting manual when our child hit puberty. What we got was a crash course in boundary-testing, late-night anxiety, and socks that smell like they’ve died twice.
So we improvise. We try to manage.
But here’s the shift we need—if the old tactics like threats, confiscations, and lectures aren’t giving us the growth or connection we’re hoping for, maybe it’s time to move beyond managing behaviour and start leading from relationship.
Not with control. With connection.
Why Relationship Is Everything
As parents, we’re often told that consistency matters. That firmness matters. That boundaries matter. And all of that is true. But underneath it all—what matters most is relationship.
Because the quality of your relationship with your teenager is directly proportional to the influence you have in their life. Not loosely connected. Directly.
The stronger the relationship, the more seriously they take your guidance. The more weight your words carry. The more they care what you think—even when they act like they don’t.
And that’s why this matters so much.
When we sacrifice connection to get quick compliance, we might win the moment, but we lose something far more important: trust, access, and emotional credibility. Every time we resort to force over conversation, control over collaboration, we teach our teen that we’re not safe to come to when things are hard. That it’s not worth being honest. That the cost of messing up is too high to risk being vulnerable.
And perhaps most damaging of all, we risk sending the message—intended or not—that our acceptance of them is conditional. That being close to us depends on how well they behave or perform.
Over time, they start to pull back. They become guarded. Withdrawn. Defensive. Reluctant. They give us less—of their words, their world, their self. Not because they don’t care, but because the relationship no longer feels like a secure place to land.
And when a relationship starts to feel more like a source of pressure than a place of safety—where every interaction feels like a critique or a command—resistance becomes less about defiance and more about needing distance.
It’s not rebellion for rebellion’s sake.
It’s retreat from a space that feels too crowded to breathe.
But when we lead with connection—when we stay calm, curious, and compassionate—we build the kind of relationship that teenagers are drawn to, not repelled by. A relationship that fosters communication, not evasion. Cooperation, not combat.
Relational parenting doesn’t mean being permissive. It doesn’t mean giving up boundaries or letting go of expectations. It means holding those things inside a framework of trust and understanding. It means guiding with presence, not pressure.
Because connection is attractive. Control invites rebellion.
Understanding opens doors. Enforcement builds walls.
Patience earns influence. Power demands compliance.
And here’s what that looks like in practice:
- Don’t sacrifice or damage the relationship just to gain short-term compliance.
- Don’t choose being right over being connected.
- Don’t push so hard for control that your teen no longer feels safe enough to be real with you.
- Don’t be so relentless—through nagging, micro-managing, or repeated demands—that your teen feels cornered into resisting just to reclaim some sense of autonomy.
Instead:
- Stay steady when they’re wobbly
- Stay kind when they’re reactive.
- Stay curious when they’re closed off.
Because they are still learning. Still growing. Still figuring out who they are.
And if we can hold the relationship steady through those messy middle years, our influence will not only survive—it will grow.
That’s how teens flourish.
That’s how families thrive.
