How Helping My Kids with Their Anxieties Helped Me Address My Own

WRITTEN BY JACKIE SEMMENS

When my oldest was about to start kindergarten, I knew exactly what to do to make him feel comfortable—or at least I thought I did. We talked about all the things he would do at kindergarten; we went to the school playground and read books about going to school. I tried to answer all the questions I could and reassured him over and over. I wanted to make him as comfortable as possible.

But no matter how many questions I answered, he never seemed to calm down. Instead, he only grew more fretful as kindergarten neared. These nerves spilled into other parts of his life, “What about hurricanes?” he’d ask. “What about volcanoes?” “How do you know we’re safe? Are you sure?”

I recognized the budding signs of anxiety because I had felt them myself.

And so I started researching anxiety in children, which led me to the book, Anxious Parents, Anxious Children. The premise isn’t to eliminate worry from our children’s lives, but to expect it, get comfortable with being uncomfortable and learning when to tell our worries to back off.

This approach seemed so counterintuitive. Instead of reassuring my children we were safe, I was supposed to say things like, “Hey, do you think your worry brain is taking over? Do you need to tell it to back off?”

At first, they would scream, “It’s not my worry! I just need to KNOW! Are we going to get in a car accident??”

But eventually, I saw it working. We started to recognize when anxiety was running the show, and instead of me spending hours convincing them they were safe, they could tell their brain we don’t need to listen to our worries all the time. We started getting a little more comfortable with being uncomfortable.

I started to wonder if this approach would work for me as well. It seemed every new stage of parenting brought on a new spiral of worry. Homework, for example—“Should I be making them spend more time on their spelling? What if they don’t get the message that education and hard work are important? Or do we need to spend less time drilling, so they can enjoy their childhood and not feel the pressure to be perfect?” No matter the decision we needed to make, I was never sure if it was the right one.

Eventually, however, I started listening to the advice I was giving my kids. I was letting anxiety run the show. This realization didn’t make it instantly easier to make a decision. I still wasn’t sure if we should let them play two sports at the same time or let them walk to school alone.

But I started asking myself why these decisions were so hard for me. Ultimately, it wasn’t about the sports, the homework, how clean my house was, or any of it. It was a worry about whether I was doing a good enough job, and if I could launch my kids into adulthood as capable humans without too much emotional damage.

This, of course, is what every parent wants. But worrying about the future doesn’t guarantee a good one.

My concerns always felt logical. “It’s not anxiety, I just really do need to do hours of research to figure out what the safest type of tuna is,” I would tell myself.

But I started asking myself the same questions I’d ask my kids. “You’re obsessing again. Is worry running the show?” As much as I hated being anxious, I found it wasn’t always easy to let my worries go. It felt like ceding a little bit of control in my life. But I don’t have complete control over the future, and I needed to learn to be OK with that.

Learning to recognize when my anxiety bubbled up and was clouding my brain helped decrease its power over me. And I, too, am a little more comfortable with being uncomfortable.

When my youngest started getting ready for kindergarten, we took a different approach. I didn’t tell her everything that would happen or reassure her that everything would be just fine. Instead, we made a list of everything she didn’t know and would get to find out on her first day.

I asked her how she felt about all this unknown. I thought it was probably making her a little uncomfortable not knowing what the future held.

But she thought for a moment, and then yelled, “EXCITED!”

I’m going to try the same. I don’t know what the future holds, or the best path to get there, and that still makes me worried sometimes. But I’m excited to find out.

Jackie Semmens is a writer by nature, and a mother by nurture. She hikes all over Montana with her three kids in hopes of wearing them out. It hasn’t worked yet.