When my son was born, I found myself engulfed in worries about his future. Like any parent, I fretted over whether he was eating enough, sleeping well, and whether I should let him cry it out or rock him to sleep. But as someone who has battled anxiety, my concerns spiraled much deeper. I pondered questions like where he would attend kindergarten in five years and what would happen if I were to need a nursing home someday, especially since he doesn’t have a sibling to lean on. You know, the things one shouldn’t obsess over when their child is just six weeks old.
Ironically, one thing I never considered was whether he might inherit my anxiety. But as it turns out, he has. I tried to remain calm when he was three and began having trouble falling asleep, or when at four he refused to leave my side for kids’ church. I assumed these behaviors were typical childhood phases.
However, by age six, he stopped wanting to visit places he previously enjoyed and preferred to stay home. Nightmares became frequent, making bedtime a struggle, and about six months ago, he began to overreact to small mistakes. By the start of this school year, he had developed an overwhelming fear of scissors, and I could no longer ignore my worries. After a visit to the pediatrician, it was confirmed: he was dealing with anxiety.
What amazes me most is how closely his struggles mirror my own. I understand exactly how he feels when he expresses a desire to stay home instead of attending a friend’s birthday party. He had a meltdown about this not long ago, and I couldn’t help but recall a similar experience I had at 15. I longed to go, yet fear held me back, resulting in misery that was clearly written on his face too.
Recently, he has started to grapple with questions about death, which complicates his nighttime routine. I had to pause writing this to comfort him during one of those anxious moments. Does anyone else experience overwhelming fears just before sleep? If you do, I empathize with you—and so does my son.
Last night, he faced another indecision meltdown. While I was engaged in an online class, his father was putting him to bed. He wanted to come say goodnight to me, but his dad, unaware of his intentions, told him I was busy. My son became upset. Recognizing its importance to him, my husband reassured him that he could come say goodnight. However, by that point, the idea that it was wrong had already taken root in his mind, and no amount of reassurance could alleviate his distress. After some tears, my husband managed to distract him with a bedtime story.
Once my class was over, I checked in on him, but he was already asleep. Standing there, I couldn’t help but reflect on the challenges he may face throughout his life, and it brought me to tears. Yet, at 34, I’ve developed coping mechanisms over the years. I’ve learned to challenge my anxious thoughts. Instead of lamenting what my child has inherited from me, I began to think about what I could be grateful for in this situation. Surprisingly, I compiled quite a list.
Finding Gratitude in Our Shared Experience
First, our shared experiences create an unbreakable bond. I understand his perspective in a way few others can, and in time, he will come to understand mine as well. We openly discuss our thoughts and feelings, which I hope lays the groundwork for a trusting relationship that endures.
Second, I can advocate for him in ways my own mother couldn’t for me. She didn’t realize I struggled with anxiety until after I faced a severe bout of postpartum anxiety. I can’t blame her; I wasn’t even aware of it myself. Now, I can speak up for my son and seek help while he’s still young.
Third, our conversations about anxiety extend beyond just the two of us; we include family members and his therapist too. This openness increases my awareness of my own thought processes and helps normalize what is often stigmatized. Hopefully, he won’t experience the same embarrassment I sometimes feel regarding my anxiety.
Finally, it’s not just anxious thoughts that he has inherited from me. He’s also a bright, creative, and empathetic little boy. Reflecting on how much I cherish my life—anxiety and all—brings me comfort. I find joy in so many things, and I hope he will too.
While I may not be able to eliminate his anxiety, I can be there to support him. Ultimately, that is enough for me. Even when my mind tries to convince me otherwise, we will face this challenge together.
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In conclusion, understanding my son’s anxiety through the lens of my own experiences has allowed me to navigate this journey with empathy and support.