Things I Didn't Realize Were Anxiety Until I Had a Child

 

When I became a mom, I expected to learn a lot about my daughter.

I didn't expect to learn so much about myself.

Like many parents, I find myself watching my daughter navigate the world and thinking, "Oh. You got that from me."

Sometimes it's the fun stuff. Her sense of humor. Her creativity. Her love of books and learning.

Other times, it's things I wish I hadn't passed down.

As she's gotten older, I've become more aware of her worries, her sensitivities, and the way she processes the world around her. And while helping her work through those feelings, I've had a realization:

A lot of the things I thought were just personality traits were actually anxiety.

I just didn't know it.

Replaying Conversations Like a Highlight Reel

Have you ever left a conversation and immediately started reviewing it in your head?

Did I talk too much?

Did they think I was weird?

Should I have said that differently?

For years, I thought this was just part of being thoughtful.

Now I realize it wasn't normal to spend three days wondering if I sounded awkward when ordering coffee.

When my daughter tells me she's worried about saying the wrong thing to a friend, I recognize that feeling immediately.

Because I've been carrying it for decades.

Preparing for Every Possible Outcome

I've always considered myself a planner.

Perhaps even a little type "A."

I make lists.

I think ahead.

I like to be prepared.

But somewhere along the line, "being prepared" became mentally rehearsing every possible disaster before it happened.

What if we're late?

What if I forget something?

What if someone is upset?

What if there's a problem I haven't thought of yet?

Having a child amplified this tendency.

Now there are dance shoes to remember, school forms to sign, appointments to schedule, snacks to pack, and 47 other things that can go wrong before 7:30 a.m.

It took becoming a parent to realize that my brain wasn't simply organized.

It was constantly trying to prevent bad things from happening.

Feeling Responsible for Everyone's Feelings

This one hit me hard.

For most of my life, I've felt responsible for how other people feel.

If someone seemed upset, I assumed it was because of something I did.

If someone was angry, I wanted to fix it.

If there was tension in a room, I felt it immediately.

I thought I was empathetic.

And maybe I am.

But empathy and responsibility aren't the same thing.

Watching my daughter worry about disappointing people made me realize how much energy I've spent trying to manage emotions that were never mine to manage.

Thinking the Worst-Case Scenario Is Just Being Realistic

You know that friend who says, "Everything will be fine"?

I've never been that friend.

I've always been the friend thinking, "Okay, but what if it isn't?"

I called it being realistic.

Prepared.

Practical.

But anxiety has a sneaky way of disguising itself as responsibility.

It tells you that if you worry enough, you'll somehow prevent bad things from happening.

Spoiler alert: it doesn't work.

Trust me. I've tried.

Needing Reassurance Even When I Already Know the Answer

My daughter sometimes asks me the same question over and over.

Not because she doesn't understand the answer.

Because she's looking for reassurance.

And if I'm being honest?

I do the exact same thing.

I just do it in adult ways.

I'll Google the same thing five times.

I'll ask multiple people for their opinions.

I'll double-check decisions I've already made.

I wasn't looking for information.

I was looking for certainty.

And anxiety loves certainty.

The problem is, life rarely offers it.

The Gift Hidden Inside the Discovery

The funny thing is, recognizing these patterns hasn't made me feel guilty.

It's made me feel compassionate.

For my daughter.

And for myself.

Because I can see now that neither of us is trying to be difficult.

We're just trying to feel safe in a world that doesn't come with guarantees.

The difference is that she gets to learn these lessons as a child.

I spent years believing these habits were simply part of who I was.

Now I know better.

And because I know better, I can help her build healthier tools than the ones I had.

I can remind her that she doesn't need to predict every outcome.

She doesn't need to make everyone happy.

She doesn't need to replay every conversation.

And maybe, if I say those things to her often enough, I'll start believing them too.

Because sometimes parenting isn't about teaching our children.

Sometimes it's about finally learning the lessons we needed all along.