What Kids Are Carrying: Online Dangers and the Healing Power of Therapy

It used to be that the scariest part of childhood happened out in the world. Things like stranger danger, hallway bullies, or what might happen at that one sleepover would often plague the thoughts of parents. But now, the biggest threats to our kids often arrive silently, through the glow of a screen.

I’ve sat with adolescents in therapy who were being bullied almost every night online. I’ve seen them fall into self-harm forums disguised as “support groups” or other concerning areas of the internet because their parents were just unaware. But, most of all, I’ve seen the ripple effect from it all: anxiety, shame, sleeplessness, and withdrawn behavior that no one could quite explain. Because the truth is, the internet has changed childhood. And therapy has had to change, too.

Most children have access to a digital world long before they’re developmentally ready to handle it. They scroll through carefully curated lives on social media, engage in multiplayer online games with strangers, and can even stumble into inappropriate adult content with just one wrong click.

Some are even groomed by predators who can pose as other kids. Others are lured into “challenges” or tricked into sending photos they can’t take back. Many become addicted to likes, followers, or the next dopamine rush of a viral moment.

And the danger isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes, it’s the quiet erosion of identity. Kids compare their bodies, their lives, and their worth to what they see online. They learn to edit themselves, not just in photos but in real life. And when things go wrong, they often don’t tell anyone, believing they’ll get in trouble or won’t be understood.

So where does therapy come in? At its core, therapy gives children (and more especially adolescents) a safe place to speak what they’re afraid to say out loud. We listen for the things that don’t show up on a report card: the stomachaches before school, the tearful meltdowns at night, the sudden drop in interest for things they used to love. We also offer them a perspective that's outside of the family that can be objective. So many parents I've spoken to tell me, "I wish my kid would talk to me." More often than not, I ask them how much they went to their own parents for advice on situations like this, and more often than not they say "oh, never." Sometimes we forget what it's like to be a teenager.

In therapy, we can help them name what’s happening. That feeling after seeing someone’s “perfect” life on TikTok? That’s social comparison. The pit in their stomach when someone screenshots their message? That’s shame, mixed with fear. We teach them language for what their body already knows but can’t articulate.

Sometimes we use CBT to help them reframe anxious or self-critical thoughts. Sometimes we use trauma-informed therapy when what they’ve experienced online goes far beyond embarrassment or peer rejection.

We also work with families. Not from a place of blame, but from a place of guidance. We help parents understand how to set limits without imposing shame. We can even build digital behavior contracts that feel collaborative and not controlling. We remind parents that the goal isn’t to remove the internet, but to give their child a compass.

And when the problem touches school, which it so often does, we can also partner with teachers and counselors to ensure the child feels supported across settings.

For kids who’ve felt humiliated, isolated, or scared by what’s happened online, one of the most powerful tools we use is narrative therapy. We help them externalize the problem: It wasn’t you. It was the pressure. It was the platform. It was someone misusing their power.

Then we help them take their story back. Rewrite it. Own it. Say it out loud without flinching.

Healing, in these cases, doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like a child logging off a bit earlier. Saying no to someone who crosses a boundary. Telling their parent, “I think I need to talk to someone.”

If you take anything from this, let it be this: what happens online is real. The pain is real. And the healing can be real, too.

Kids today aren’t weak or broken. They’re navigating things most adults never had to face at their age. They’re figuring out identity in public. They’re learning self-worth in environments built to monetize their attention.

As therapists, parents, and educators, we have a responsibility to walk beside them. Not just when things go wrong, but before they do. We need to model how to set boundaries, recover from mistakes, and ask for help without shame. The screen might be here to stay. But so are we. And we can't be afraid to ask for help.