The other day, I dropped my teenagers off at their father’s house just moments before he arrived. As I watched them enter, I rummaged through my wallet for cash, recalling his earlier warning about the front door knob having issues. “It’s tough to unlock, so just make sure they get in okay before you leave. I’ll be home soon,” he had said.
As I drove away, I found my mind racing back to that moment. I kept telling myself, They are inside. They’re not out in the cold. They’re fine. Just stop worrying. But I was distracted and began to doubt whether I had truly seen them go inside.
Panic washed over me, and I couldn’t shake it. I had to check again. Pulling over, I glanced at my phone; no messages. I knew it was irrational, but I needed reassurance, so I called my daughter. “Did you make it in?” I asked, my voice tinged with anxiety.
“Yes, Mom, didn’t you see us?” she replied, clearly unfazed. She reminded me that she hadn’t called to say they couldn’t get in because they were perfectly safe.
But here’s the thing: my kids understand my need to check in. They know my anxiety can erode my confidence and make me second guess everything. However, just because they’re accustomed to it doesn’t mean it’s easy for me to manage my racing thoughts. Admitting I struggle with this is even harder.
Even after witnessing events unfold, despite reminding my teens to be cautious, I often need to verify everything just to ease my mind. Though not a daily ritual, it happens more often than I’d like to admit.
Discussing my anxiety is difficult; I feel ashamed. I thought my constant need to check on my kids would fade as they grew older, but it hasn’t. I remember when they were little, I’d check on their breathing if they napped too long, and even leaving them with a babysitter was a challenge. I’d spend most of that time worrying.
When they were in school, I’d often call just to hear the secretary’s voice, convincing myself that if things seemed normal, all was well. I’ve had nights where I wake up and need to confirm my son’s car is in the garage, even after waiting up for him.
I sometimes ask him to text me when he arrives at the gym, knowing he dislikes it. I check in with my teenagers multiple times when they’re at friends’ houses or home alone. This has become routine for them, as they recognize it’s just how I function. Anxiety demands answers and can’t stand waiting; it drives me to seek control and comfort.
I don’t check on my kids constantly due to forgetfulness; I do it to quell the doubts swirling in my head. If I don’t, the places my thoughts can go are overwhelming. I’m uncertain how to navigate life any other way.
If you’re similarly navigating the challenges of parenting and anxiety, you might find insights in this other blog post about managing stress. There are also excellent resources available for those considering fertility treatments at March of Dimes, or exploring how exercise can impact sperm quality at Intracervical Insemination.
In summary, parenting independent teenagers can amplify anxiety, leaving parents grappling with the need for reassurance and control. Understanding and addressing these feelings is vital for both parents and children.