The dilemma My relationship with my 19-year-old daughter is at breaking point and I’m afraid I’m going to lose her. I raised her alone (her father was an alcoholic) and from day one was determined we’d be close. She confides in me and I make sure I’m always there for her. In February I got married. It’s been an adjustment, but my husband and I are settling into life together well. He’s clear it’s not necessary for him to “parent” my daughter and we’re both happy with that. She went to university last year, but became anxious and depressed, and dropped out. She never attended the counselling sessions we signed up for when she returned. She’s now working in an office job which she doesn’t enjoy. Her room is a mess, she doesn’t do any washing and the only time she “comes to life” is when she’s out drinking with friends. Otherwise she sits in her darkened room watching television. I worry she’s depressed. I’ve told myself to be her “rock” while she adjusts to my husband being here, but it’s increasingly difficult because she’s pushing me, becoming quite vile at times. We’ve arranged private counselling, but it hasn’t started yet. Our ability to communicate calmly has virtually gone.

Mariella replies I feel for you. Your daughter is clearly going through a difficult patch and that’s hard to witness, let alone negotiate. It’s imperative children find their own feet in the world and I’m becoming increasing convinced the new world order leaves them less and less space to do so. There are financial imperatives compelling youngsters to delay fleeing their feathered nests, but we’re also struggling to instil the basic skills to withstand the outside world.

I grew up expecting very little of life but was determined to see what was on the menu at the earliest possibility. Doing so was no great wrench since back then parents tended, for better or worse, to be far more detached. In my case it seemed perfectly sensible to cut loose from the adults in my life: an alcoholic father who died when I was 15, a mother left coping with five children and no income to speak of, and a violent stepfather. I wonder what my mother must have felt when she watched me set off to seek my fortune in London. I had bad days and good days, abusive experiences and some great adventures, but the words simply weren’t available to me to describe or diagnose depression or trauma, abuse or sexual harassment. Instead mine was the definition of a 1970s childhood – a very long leash, a few near misses and determined forward momentum.

Stop being her ‘rock’ and let her find her own solid ground

It’s such a different landscape for children today – protected from birth, judging the world for what it can give them, blaming missteps on the adults who raised them, fearing the future and the streets. I’m left feeling that the best quality we can try to instil in our kids is fearlessness. My instinct is to fear for my daughter’s safety, but I can’t shield her from the world and, more importantly, I’ll do her a disservice by trying. I am better off pretending to be unafraid for her, encouraging her determined efforts to break away equipped with the bits of self-protective wisdom I’ve managed to accrue.

Your daughter clearly is in need of professional advice, but while you wait for her counselling sessions to begin you may want to take advice (see mind.org) as she’s certainly got symptoms of depression. You might also want to examine your version of your relationship. It’s been a pretty intimate twosome until recently. You will both have embraced particular roles that it may be hard to step away from. My guesswork is worth nothing in the face of proper professional advice, but maybe you may need to stop trying to be your daughter’s “rock” and let her find alternative solid ground. She’s got a home, a mother who loves her and a job that doesn’t excite her. If she continues to rely on your fluttering around her trying to smooth her path, the longer her sense of responsibility for her own fate may take to develop.

Also, move the TV out of her room, leave the mess to mushroom so she’s forced into action, and stop doing her washing. She wants your attention and is going to extreme lengths to get it. Alongside the tough love, find time to hang out together, whether it’s a visit to a gallery, a manicure, or whatever she might enjoy doing with just you. She has grown up with your full, unmitigated focus and it’s difficult to share that spotlight. I’d hazard a guess that the disruptive arrival of a third party in the shape of your husband at a hormonally vulnerable time may be a contributing factor.

You’ve done nothing wrong, but if you can disengage emotionally, stop trying to solve her woes and instead just listen, you may make more progress. The greatest compliment our children can pay us is to walk into the world without a backward glance. Training them up to abandon you is heart-breaking, but the alternative is even more so. I wish you all luck.

If you have a dilemma, send a brief email to mariella.frostrup@observer.co.uk. Follow her on Twitter @mariellaf1