It’s 4:30 p.m. and my partner hasn’t come home. There’s been no call, no text, and no mention of working late. As a teacher, he typically strolls in around 3:45 p.m.
And then I begin to panic.
Logically, I know a student or parent may have delayed him, but my anxious mind leaps to the worst-case scenario—my partner could be in a terrible accident. I can’t help but remember that I’m not even listed as his emergency contact; instead, he used a college nickname. Why would he do that?
I tell myself that his mother would reach out if something were wrong. But what if his phone is ruined? What hospital would he be taken to? How would I manage without him? We have three kids to care for. Sure, we have life insurance, but is it enough? Can I get the house tidy enough for a funeral?
As I glance around, despair mixes with my rising worry. I realize I’m supposed to work, but I can’t even manage to cook a simple chicken. My heart races, and my hands tremble as I turn on some mindless TV for the kids, desperately dialing his number, again and again. No answer. My anxiety spirals higher. Just as I’m about to call hospitals, my phone rings.
“I had a parent,” he says, skipping small talk. He understands my worry. “I’m so sorry.”
“Just text me,” I reply through gritted teeth, feeling anger replace my fear. “Just. Text. Me. I thought you were dead.”
This is the kind of anxiety that often goes unspoken. We might joke about overly cautious parents—the ones who assume the worst at every turn, always fearing illness or tragedy for their loved ones. You know the type—the mom who keeps her kids away from anyone with a sniffle or who panics at the slightest cough. You may roll your eyes and think we’re overreacting, and to some extent, you’re right. But we’re not in control; we’re living with an anxiety disorder.
For those of us with anxiety, it’s like our brains are in a constant state of fight-or-flight. We’re always on the lookout for potential threats, for ourselves and our loved ones. In its most basic form, it means we’re convinced we’re about to get sick. I overindulged in cheesecake the other night, and instead of thinking, “Hey, I just ate too much,” my mind spiraled into panic—I must be coming down with a stomach bug. I had to drink some water, take antacids, and lie down, convinced I’d spread it to my kids and husband. All this from cheesecake.
Every headache becomes a sign of an aneurysm. Every toothache signals a potential root canal. A small cut needs immediate Neosporin to ward off any lurking bacteria. This is daily life with anxiety. It often feels irrational, yet it’s something we rarely discuss for fear of being labeled as overreacting weirdos. But if your loved one has an anxiety disorder, you can bet this fear of disaster is lurking beneath the surface.
And then there are the kids. They fall, they bump, they scrape their knees. Instantly, I imagine the worst—a broken bone or a lost tooth. When they tumble into the water, my mind races with the thought of them inhaling a deadly amoeba that kills within a week. It’s an extremely rare occurrence, but my anxious brain doesn’t accept that. I convince myself we’d be the exception to the rule.
When it comes to long-term health, I spiral even deeper. I recall studies linking hot dog consumption to higher leukemia risks, and dread fills me every time I serve those processed meat sticks. I worry that if I occasionally grab fast food, my kids might not do well in school, or if I give them too much screen time, it could lead to delays in speech or even diabetes. Anxious parents like me could really use a filter to sift through all this information.
But I assure you, I’m improving. Medication has made a world of difference. I no longer feel the need to respond to farewells with panic-laden requests like, “Drive safe!” or “Come home safe!” in a voice that screams, “Please don’t die.” My partner appreciates this shift, but still, when he leaves, a wave of anxiety washes over me. Just this morning, as he left, I thought, “What if I never see him again, and I didn’t get to tell him how much he means to me?” That thought lingers, pushing me to wish for his safe return.
Anxiety manifests in many forms, but the fear that we or our loved ones will become sick or die is one of the most bitter and challenging to confront. It’s a cruel reality that’s tough to admit, but I want you to know, if you’re feeling this way, you’re not alone. We’re in this together.
For more on navigating parenthood and beyond, check out this insightful article on artificial insemination kits, or explore tips for managing toddler tantrums at The Diaper Change Challenge. Additionally, if you’re interested in understanding more about pregnancy, WebMD offers excellent resources on insemination success rates.
Summary:
Anxiety often manifests as an overwhelming fear of losing loved ones or facing illness. This article explores the spiraling thoughts and irrational fears that accompany anxiety, particularly in parenting. It highlights the constant worry about safety and health, offering reassurance to those who share these struggles.