A moment ago a child sat at the breakfast table telling you about their day. And suddenly there sits a young person who closes the door, answers in monosyllables and is someone else entirely in the evening than in the morning.
Enthusiasm, withdrawal, anger and tenderness can alternate within a single day. For parents this is often confusing. You want to be close and get pushed away. You mean well and get an eye-roll in return. Added to this is the worry about whether everything is all right, and sometimes grief that the familiar closeness is changing.
What looks like rejection from the outside is usually a necessary step. In puberty a great deal is reorganised, in the brain, in the body, in the self-image. Teenagers are looking for their own place and, to do so, have to set themselves apart to some extent. The withdrawal is not a withdrawal of love, but part of growing up.
What sustains during this time is less the right word than reliable presence. Being there without pushing. Staying open to conversation, even when nothing is being said right now. Setting limits and at the same time showing that the relationship holds, even when things get heated.
That takes strength, and no one manages it calmly and serenely all the time. Parents, too, may reach their limits. Then it can help to take one's own feelings seriously and not to work everything out alone.
When conflicts become entrenched or the worry grows, an outside perspective can help. Sometimes a conversation with someone who is not involved shows what is hard to see in everyday life. And often a little more understanding emerges from it, on both sides.
The rollercoaster stops at some point. What remains is the relationship that withstood all of it.