Helping Girls With Worries about Puberty
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Dear Dr. Laura,
My wonderful 11-year-old daughter is entering a difficult time and I want to know how best to help her. She's begun to hit puberty and is seeming sad and angry and confused by it. Physically, she's still in the beginning stages... she has breast buds, a few pimples and occasional hormonally-fueled mood swings. I don't see her getting her period for another year or so. Socially and emotionally, she's being thrust into a world she's not ready for... she's beginning to hear her classmates talking about exploration of their budding sexuality (in the form of crushes, kisses, etc.). She has several times bemoaned these changes and said she longs to go back to a simpler time. All of this seems very natural to me.
However, recently she's begun to feel very disturbed, and even traumatized, by all of this. For example, she recently stumbled across a section in an age-appropriate chapter book she was reading which included a teenage kissing-scene, and she promptly handed the book to me and tearfully asked me to keep it out of her sight until she's older. She also played a video game at a friends' house that depicted the implied (not actually seen) lovemaking of two characters, and tearfully told me how disturbed and haunted she was by the image. And when I talked with her recently about what it will be like when she gets her period, she burst into tears and ran into her room, shutting down and shutting me out.
I've been talking with her about puberty and adolescence for the last few years, and have gotten her all sorts of great books about it. When she was 8 and 9 and 10, she was delighted and curious about it, and we had great, open conversations about it. Now, it seems like such a source of pain to her, and I need to know how to help her through this. I know she'll be fine in the end, but how do I help her now?
I think part of the problem is she has limited access to me, her female guide to all of this. I share custody of her with her father, my ex-husband, and I only see her half of each week. It seems that just when we've begun a great conversation and rhythm, it's interrupted by the visitation schedule -- and she won't talk to her dad about this. My husband is wondering if she's more sensitive to this because she has very little exposure to media (we have no television and limit computer screen time at our house -- she does watch some television at her dad's house, but mostly sports). She's also been through a lot of change in the last few years (divorce when she was 2, moves, my remarriage when she was 9) and there may be still more coming up (entering middle school next year, another possible move, a possible baby brother or sister) and I worry that's impacting her ability to contend with the change she's experiencing in her own body and place in the world.
I dearly wish there were some sort of ritual in our culture that would acknowledge her initiation into this world! I've heard of moms holding a special tea or other celebration when a girl gets her first period or turns 12 or 13, but my daughter has told me this would be "mortifying" to her.
How can I ease this transition for her? How can I help her with her fear and pain, and at the same time show her how to honor and celebrate what's happening?
Many thanks for sharing your wisdom!
What an important and rich question you're asking!
I agree with you—your daughter’s reactions are within the range of normal. And I want to go one step further: what you’re seeing may actually be a sign of health.
Some kids meet the changes of puberty by rushing toward “grown-up” things. Other kids meet them by pulling back and saying, “Not yet.” Your daughter’s tears, her wish to return to a simpler time, her desire to keep certain scenes out of her mind—those can be read as her nervous system doing exactly what it’s designed to do: protecting her sense of safety while she adjusts to a new stage of life.
At eleven, the body is changing before the heart and mind feel ready. Even when kids are curious in theory at ages 8–10, the reality can feel different when it’s their body, their social world, their vulnerability. And sexual content—especially when it shows up unexpectedly—can feel intrusive. So when she hands you a book and asks you to keep it away, she’s not being “too sensitive.” She’s saying, “My brain isn’t ready to hold that image.” That’s wisdom.
What helps most: give her back a sense of safety and choice.
Right now she’s experiencing puberty as something that’s happening to her. The antidote is helping her feel:
“I have choices. I can go slowly. I can ask for what I need. My mom will help me.”
That means two things from you, over and over:
1) You welcome her feelings without pushing for words.
2) You make a practical plan so she doesn’t feel alone with “what if.”
In the moment, here’s what to say.
When she melts down, tears up, or shuts down, you don’t need the “right talk.” You need safety.
You might try something like:
- “Oh sweetheart…that felt like too much. I’m right here.”
- “You don’t have to be ready for any of this yet.”
- “Your job is just to be eleven. My job is to help you, one step at a time.”
- “We can hit pause. We can talk later—or not talk. I can just hold you.”
If she can’t tolerate words, offer closeness: sit nearby, rub her back if she wants, bring water, keep the lights soft. Tears are her system releasing fear. Your calm presence tells her body: I’m safe.
Later—when she’s regulated—ask one gentle question, not ten:
- “What part felt scary?”
- “Do you want less information for now, or more—but in smaller pieces?”
- “How can you help yourself if you run into something again?”
You’re aiming for agency, not a lecture.
About being “disturbed by kissing/sex”.
It’s worth naming something very plainly: kids can be “age-appropriate” in general and still stumble into content that their particular temperament finds overwhelming. That doesn’t mean you’ve sheltered her “too much.” It means she’s sensitive—and sensitivity is not a defect. Sensitive kids often have deep empathy, strong intuition, and a finely tuned alarm system.
So instead of trying to convince her she “shouldn’t” feel so upset, you can validate the protective response:
- “Your brain is telling you, ‘Not yet.’ I’m glad you listened to yourself.”
- “If you see something that feels gross or scary, you can always come to me. We’ll take care of it.”
And then teach a simple skill for the next time an image pops into her mind:
- “Brains don’t like unwanted pictures. When it shows up, you can say: ‘No thank you, brain.’ Then look around the room and name five things you see. Let’s help your brain come back to the present.”
The custody piece matters—a lot.
Your intuition here is right on target. If she’s half the week away from you, puberty can feel like a looming emergency: “What if it happens there?”
So let’s make it boring and doable.
Create a Period Plan—short, practical, and reassuring:
- She has supplies at both homes (and in her backpack).
- She knows exactly where they are at her dad’s house.
- She has permission to call/text you immediately—no questions asked.
- She and you agree on one simple line she can say to her dad if it happens:
- “Dad, I need privacy and supplies. Can you help me?”
or even “Dad, I need you to get the kit, please.”
- “Dad, I need privacy and supplies. Can you help me?”
If it’s at all possible, I’d also encourage you to talk with her father privately and matter-of-factly so he can respond calmly and practically. The goal isn’t for her to have deep talks with him. The goal is for her to know: “I’ll be taken care of at either house.”
Your ritual idea is lovely—just make it lighter and more private.
I love your instinct about ritual. Kids this age often want something meaningful and low-visibility.
Instead of a “ceremony,” frame it as a private mother–daughter tradition with choices. Give her three options and let her pick (choice creates safety):
- The Treasure Box: a decorated box with a letter to her future self, a few small keepsakes, and one page titled: “Things I want to remember about being 11.”
- The “Becoming” Date: a once-a-year brunch or walk where you ask: “What feels new? What feels hard? What feels exciting?”
- The First-Period Comfort Plan: not a celebration, just care—cozy dinner, favorite dessert, heating pad, movie, early bedtime. Later—when she’s ready—you mark it with something small (a charm, a journal, a special stone).
And you can say directly:
“No public anything. No embarrassment. This is just us—and it’s about honoring you, exactly as you are.”
Don’t underestimate the power of her body.
When kids feel anxious, they need experiences of strength and competence. Physical activities help because they change the nervous system state.
So instead of “you need exercise,” you might say:
- “Let’s help your body feel strong. When your body feels stronger, scary feelings get smaller.”
Martial arts, climbing, swimming, dance, hiking, yoga—anything she chooses that helps her feel powerful ;inside her own skin.
About Media Exposure.
I agree with your husband that if your daughter had more exposure to media, she might be a bit more excited about adolescence, which is presented as such a desirable time. But there are other significant risks associated with media exposure.
Media exposure normalizes our warped cultural view of teenage girls as "hot." It can, therefore, get girls excited about being grown-up, sophisticated and sexy. But that same process also undermines their confidence, and is associated with eating disorders and negative self image. On balance, media exposure sabotages girls.
One more thought: let adolescence be both/and.
You can hold two truths at once:
- “It’s okay to miss childhood.”
- “And it’s also okay to grow.”
That’s the emotional permission she needs. She doesn’t have to perform excitement. She doesn’t have to be “cool.” She gets to be exactly who she is—and you’ll stay close while she becomes more herself.
You’re doing something profoundly protective here: you’re treating her sensitivity as wisdom, you’re keeping the door open, and you’re giving her a plan for the practical realities. That combination—warmth + safety + agency—is what carries kids through this passage.
Warmly,
Dr. Laura
