ISABELLE SILBERY: 'The three questions I asked my son after watching Adolescence.'

This post contains spoilers.

"Sorry, I should've done better."

Those were the last words spoken by Jamie's father in the spine-tingling series everyone is talking about — Adolescence.

As I blubbered into my doona, I made a promise to myself that I would never have to say this to my son. I ran into his room, sat on the end of his bed and asked him questions I'd never thought to ask before. Here's what I know…

Watch: The trailer for Adolescence. Post continues below.

The most powerful aspect of this brilliant piece of social commentary that's been overlooked, is the absence of the "obvious, traumatic thing" which usually pushes someone to murder.

In a very realistic contrast, the depiction of layered, subtle factors contributing to an unfathomable crime is the wake-up call our society needs.

To be honest, I've been jolted into action. It's ignited the detective in me and made me wonder what our boys are experiencing, in secret, right under our noses. In the case of the main character, Jamie, (based on a true story), it's uncovered during his session with his assigned female psychologist, that he's grappling with a deep sense of yearning to be accepted for who he is.

Like most of our boys, we often see them bounce between defensiveness and vulnerability, and we can't keep up. It can be frustrating, triggering and my default as a mother is usually to shut it down.

I perceive these outbursts as "bad behaviour" and I tend to focus on that rather than what's underneath it.

But after watching Adolescence, I get it now.

If I can learn anything from this show, it's how Jamie's psychologist listens by holding space for him even when he becomes extremely aggressive, to the point of terrifying her. He's just a child after all. She doesn't tell him off, doesn't judge but asks questions that allow him to open up. This is everything I want to be as a mother. To be patient, not be triggered by clear boundaries encompassing love and curiosity. 

When she said, "What you think is more important to me than what is true" I watched his armour fall away because his feelings were finally being validated. I wanted to hug him like he was my own. This quote is saved in my notes and will be used in future conversations with my kids.

The psychologist manages to stay calm and not react to his aggression, allowing Jamie to feel safe enough to take off his mask. He shares his feelings around his disconnect to his father, the toxic influence of social media and his negative view of himself. My heart was in my stomach thinking that perhaps my own child may have these inner thoughts and I am none the wiser. The kicker was when he asked her "Do you like me?" WOW. 

He'd been vulnerable, aggressive, shared his inner feelings and all he really needed to know was if she approved of him as a person. An imperfect child. Exactly that, a child who is learning. As most of us sometimes do with our own children, I often forget this.

As a long-standing supporter of The Man Cave, a program in schools teaching and promoting healthy masculinity to young boys from years 7-12, I've observed boys at their most vulnerable. It's been eye-opening to say the least. It's clear that it's a confusing time for our boys. They are well aware that our society often views men as bad, which comes at a price.

As young boys enter the world of adulthood, they feel helpless and responsible for things they haven't contributed to. They express feelings like they can't put a foot right. Some young boys are too afraid to kiss their girlfriends or initiate sex for fear they'll be accused of non-consensual abuse.

It's heartbreaking to hear a lot of them talk about the pressure they experience around expectations and fear of failure. The word 'useless' is used to describe themselves all too often. It doesn't discriminate, public or private schools; it's all the same. My son is only ten and this is not what I want him to feel or think when he becomes an adolescent.

It's clear that our boys crave a sense of belonging. They are searching for acceptance and connection. Our boys need their Dads. Their dad's time, love through affection, affirmation and approval. If it's not Dad, then let's bring in a coach, a male teacher or a stepfather. But while they search for this, they stay where it's safe … behind a mask and this is where it can all go horribly wrong.

With their masks on, they're tough. They solve their own problems, and it's all about the banter, girls and sport. It's safe but it's isolating and dangerous.  When they take their masks off, they open up, share their real emotions and ask for help. It's liberating, but to them, it's risky. And sometimes, for fear of rejection, it's not worth the risk.

Jamie and his father in Adolescence. Image: Netflix.

As I sat at the end of my son's bed, I said: 'I've got some free time, Ruby (his sister) is asleep and I want to spend it with you because I love you."

Being 10, he looked at me weirdly and said: "Is everything okay?"

"What do you think about the girls at school?" I asked.

"What does being a boy feel like for you?"

"What do you think a good man does?"

I will respect his privacy with his answers, but it's opened up a new, important and honest conversation that's ongoing. I'm now across his kids' messenger, watching everything he says to both boys and girls. I've confronted him about some things that were not okay and made him apologise to both the kids involved and their parents.

I'm more involved with his school, communicating with teachers about what goes on in the school yard and I've decided he will not be having access to social media until an appropriate age. 

I listen in on conversations when he's got friends over. I watch him now more closely than ever as he enters into this next phase of life. Not because I don't trust him, but because I want to grab any opportunity to address things as they happen and open up the lines of communication so he feels heard and seen.

Just like Jamie's parents in Adolescence, we are all trying our best, but we can do better and we must. I don't want to have regrets. I have a baby girl and her welfare and safety is equally as important. I don't want to ever say to her "Sorry, I should've done better". 

The time is now.

Feature image: Supplied.