Colman Noctor: Our teens are struggling — maybe the problem is the pond and not the frog
Sending 40 Snapchats in an evening may involve contact, but it does not produce anywhere near the same connection as laughing about something with somebody or simply being bored in one another’s company, says Colman.
The Shona Project recently published its Perfect Storm 2026 report, which paints a worrying picture of teenagers’ experiences in Ireland.
When they surveyed 802 secondary school students, aged 12 to 19, they found that 41% described themselves as struggling, while another 41% were essentially coping rather than thriving.
Among 12 to 15-year-olds, 44% of girls reported struggling, compared with 24% of boys. By the ages of 16 to 19, however, the picture had deteriorated considerably for both groups, with 55% of girls and 38% of boys reporting struggling.
None of this will come as a great surprise to parents, teachers, or anyone working with teenagers. We have been discussing a deterioration in young people’s mental health for some time.
A more interesting question is why?
There are many explanations, including social media, smartphones, academic pressure, covid lockdowns, body image, cyberbullying, and climate anxiety, all of which undoubtedly play a part.
But I have started to view what is happening from a different perspective, and I suspect that many may be experiencing a ‘fulfilment crisis’.
Many of the young people I see in my therapy room don’t describe the presence of something that makes them unhappy but rather the absence of something that makes them feel fulfilled.
Psychologically, as human beings, we need certain fundamental things to feel fulfilled. We need to feel seen and heard. We need to feel that we belong somewhere, and we need meaning and purpose in our lives. Perhaps most importantly, we need to be able to imagine a future that makes sense.
When I view adolescence through the lens of fulfilment, some of the difficulties young people are experiencing begin to seem less mysterious.
Are teens fulfilled?
Consider, first, the trajectory of their social world.
For many children, primary school is the era of organised friendship. Parents arrange playdates, and there are regular birthday parties at which the whole class is invited, as well as sport and other activities, which are still hopefully fun, arranged for them.
So their social world is fulfilling and largely run by adults.
If they don’t own a smartphone, they tend to have fewer distractions when they are together. Particularly in the younger years, two children can simply play without the need to document the experience or to wonder what everyone else is doing.
Then adolescence arrives, and, somewhat paradoxically, just as friendship becomes more developmentally important, the scaffolding disappears, and the connections diminish.
Parents stop arranging their social lives because they believe they are old enough to do it themselves. But many struggle to do so.
Teenagers can spend all day messaging friends without spending any time with them. The smartphone that promised connection has created another problem by removing the need to meet in person.
There is an important distinction between contact and connection.
Sending 40 Snapchats in an evening may involve contact but it does not produce anywhere near the same connection as laughing about something with somebody or simply being bored in one another’s company.
Belonging rarely comes from exchanging messages. It develops through ordinary in-person interactions where we can be ourselves without judgement.
We also need to consider the opportunity cost of using smartphones.
If a teenager spends 30 hours a week on their phone, the issue is not simply what they see on the screen, it is what they are ‘not’ doing during those hours.
Those are hours not spent hanging around with friends, getting bored enough to become creative, or simply taking part in real life.
A smartphone is remarkably good at filling time but filling time does not lead to a fulfilling life.
This becomes particularly important when we think about the relationship between meaning, purpose, and fulfilment.
Meaning usually emerges from feeling that we matter to someone or something beyond ourselves. Purpose comes from having something to contribute or something worth working for.
Adolescence traditionally provided this organically. You met your friends because otherwise you wouldn’t see them. You joined things partly because you were bored at home, and you took a Saturday job to earn money.
None of those things was necessarily profound on its own. Collectively, however, they gave young people a sense of purpose.
Having a sense of purpose
Having purpose shows us that we matter. Contrast that with spending several hours scrolling through content selected by an algorithm whose primary purpose is to keep you scrolling.
It can entertain, stimulate, distract you, and even make you smile. But this is gratification, not fulfilment. You can’t derive meaning from something that demands nothing of you.
In many respects, young people have never had as much as they have today. They have access to extraordinary entertainment, information, and educational opportunities that previous generations could barely have imagined.
Yet expectations have risen with this abundance.
They no longer compare themselves to the other children living on your road or in your class. The modern-day teenager’s reference group can include the most attractive, successful, wealthy, and seemingly happy people on the planet.
As a result, the concept of ‘enough’ has become very difficult to define when there is always someone with more.
And then we ask young people to look to their future but what they see doesn’t exactly inspire hope.
They are constantly told they may never be able to afford a house.
They are told that AI could eliminate many of the jobs they are preparing for.
There are constant reminders that the planet is on fire due to the climate emergency, not to mention the images of wars and conflicts from around the world transmitted directly into their bedrooms.
More recently, they seem concerned about the apocalyptic suggestion that there’s a 10% chance AI may eventually eradicate humanity.
So we shouldn’t be surprised that they struggle to envision a future that makes sense.
If we want young people to feel more fulfilled, we need to give them more opportunities to be seen rather than merely viewed, to be heard rather than merely reacted to, and to belong rather than simply being digitally connected.
To feel a sense of purpose, they need responsibilities that show they are needed, tasks that require effort and build competence, and the ability to imagine a future worth moving towards.
So maybe the problems our young people are experiencing do not reside solely in them or their lack of resilience. Maybe it’s something else?
When I discuss this with students, I use the analogy of frogs in a pond.
If one frog becomes sick, it makes sense to examine it. But if half the frogs in the pond become sick, someone will eventually need to examine the water.
Consistent research findings, like the Perfect Storm study, suggest that might be where we are when it comes to adolescent mental health.
We have become very good at examining individual young people. We assess them, diagnose them, counsel them, teach them coping skills, and encourage them to become more resilient.
But when distress becomes widespread, we also have to become curious about the pond.
Because perhaps the perfect storm facing this generation is not any single threat but the gradual erosion of several ordinary things human beings have always relied upon for fulfilment.
If we want our young people to feel more fulfilled, we need them to be genuinely known by other people, have a sense of belonging somewhere, be needed, have something meaningful to do, and believe that tomorrow might contain something worth looking forward to. Because maybe the issue is not with the frogs but with the pond.

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