Invisible Wounds: Reflections on the Netflix series Adolescence
- Robyn Fidanque
- Apr 29
- 4 min read
Updated: Apr 29
After seeing posts on social media about the Netflix series Adolescence — and people recommending it to me, saying, “You’d probably like it; it’s a tragedy about bullying at school” — I decided to give it a shot.
I hadn’t watched a Netflix series in over a year (don’t ask), but Adolescence surprised me. I haven't seen acting this brilliant, especially on Netflix, in a long time. Every look, every pause, every flicker of emotion felt real, haunting, and meaningful without being too obvious. It made me lean in closer... It made me think...🤔
👇🏼Spoiler alert if you haven’t seen it yet!👇🏼
It’s been about an hour since I finished the final episode, and I have to say immediately: this is not just a tragedy about bullying. The brutality of the murder was unsettling, yes — but what was really unnerving was the emotional landscape that led up to it. The real roots of this crime run far deeper, darker, and are more complex.
Early Doubts
In the first episode, I thought: Maybe Jaimie didn’t do it. The video evidence was chilling, yes, but when we saw more of the toxic school environment and his friend Ryan’s behavior in the next episode, I still wondered if the writers were hinting at a possible setup and his innocence.
But by Episode 3, all my doubt disappeared.
That interrogation episode — wow. It was intense! My deep respect goes to real-life forensic psychologists. Even though the mom in me wanted her to be more empathetic, I know she handled the goal of assessing Jamie very professionally. Her neutrality brought Jamie’s deeply wounded parts to the surface. And mind you — that was the point. This was an assessment, not therapy!
Psychological Landscape: Jamie Unraveled
Let's play shrink for a minute.
Jamie is sharp — unnervingly sharp — for his age. He’s conscious of his words, hyperaware of the behaviors of others, and chillingly controlled. Beneath that surface, though, he vibrates with rage, low self-worth and an insatiable need for validation.
During the conversation, he wasn’t simply lashing out from pain; he was strategically manipulating, testing, pulling the psychologist in — trying to control her, her perception of him and to win her approval as if his very existence depended on it. And when he sensed even the slightest rejection or judgement, he turned on her with frightening speed.
What struck me most was the deep, underlying pain fueling all of Jamie’s anger: the feeling of not being valued as a whole person. At his age, he should have developed a stronger sense of self and healthier coping strategies for dealing with rejection. Yet emotionally, he reacted like a wounded toddler — impulsive, raw, desperate — even though he had the reasoning skills of an adult. This dangerous mismatch allows him to rationalize his actions and believe his own justifications.
The sheer depth of his pain, the explosive rage, and his chilling lack of empathy point to a disturbance that took root long before high school ever began.
The Hidden Roots: Family Dynamics
In the final episode, we get crucial insight into Jamie’s home life.
At first glance, his parents seem loving, supportive — and I genuinely believe they were well-meaning.
Jamie’s father had vowed to never beat his children — breaking the physical cycle of violence from his own childhood. He wanted to be a better man. A better father.
This is the cruel irony of generational trauma: even when we believe we are breaking the cycle, we often only reshape it. (Side note: this is why I often cringe a little when I hear people say, "The cycle ends with me." I genuinely hope it does — but many don't realize yet just how deep the forces are that they're up against...)
Instead of physical abuse, Jamie’s father — when disappointed — would emotionally withdraw, becoming cold and distant. This coping mechanism wasn’t meant to harm; it was the better option he could do with what he has been given. But for Jamie, the message was loud and clear: You are only lovable when you are 'good' and mistake-free.
This kind of conditional love causes severe emotional neglect to the parts of us that are not accepted — the parts that feel ashamed, unwanted, and abandoned.
The physical violence may have stopped. But emotional abandonment, disapproval, and shame can ripple through a child’s inner world just as violently.
Unconscious and unhealed pain always finds other ways to seep through — whether in behavior or across generations — until someone is ready to address it, feel it, and heal it, over and over again.
And the tragedy is, as we learned in episode 4, Jamie’s father was in therapy — at least couples therapy — showing again his willingness to heal.
But the generational trauma still wasn’t truly broken; it simply changed form: from fists to silence, from bruises to emotional fractures invisible to the eye. Silent wounds.
As his mother mentioned, Jamie and his father both had "short fuses." What they perhaps accepted as “just character” might have also been genetic vulnerabilities — tendencies toward emotional dysregulation, impulsivity, or even antisocial traits. There was certainly more they could have done for Jamie, but they also cannot be assigned full blame.
No Simple Villains
In the end, the tragedy is three-fold:
A brilliant but broken young life destroyed.
A father who tried his best, only to watch the family darkness mutate and devour his son.
A young girl, lost as collateral damage.
There are no easy villains here. Only many unfortunate key players:
(Cyber)bullying among peers.
A school environment where teachers were overwhelmed, stressed, ill-equipped, and powerless to create true safety.
A home where love and good intentions were real, but old wounds were unknowingly passed on.
A biological predisposition to antisocial traits and/or personality disorders.
Take-away
We must learn to look beyond the obvious wounds.
Sometimes, what isn’t said speaks loudest of all.
Invisible wounds are silent and loud killers.
I pray that we, as individuals and as a society, remember the true meaning of unconditional love — that it may first heal us, so we can pass it on to our children. Unconditional love does not mean unconditional acceptance of harmful behavior; it means seeing the soul behind the wounds and guiding it with both compassion and strength toward healing and love.
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