As a child attending a Catholic school, I often found myself in the confessional, revealing my missteps to the priest. I still vividly remember the guilt I felt for receiving three checkmarks for performing unauthorized cartwheels during gym class, which resulted in an inexplicable assignment to write a term paper on hockey—a topic I still struggle to comprehend. The relief I felt upon hearing that I had been forgiven for those exuberant yet forbidden flips was profound.
There is an undeniable sense of release that comes from making confessions, whether to a colleague, a friend, or a partner. It allows us to unburden ourselves, seeking forgiveness or finding solace in shared experience. Today, I must confess: I am a mother plagued by worry.
My concerns extend beyond the typical parental anxieties, such as traffic safety or the dangers of sharp objects. My worry is extraordinary. For instance, I find myself fretting about whether I might have been exposed to harmful toxins during my pregnancy, potentially impacting my daughter’s intelligence. What if excessive fluoride in our drinking water jeopardizes her chances of attending her dream university? Despite her current success in advanced classes, I can’t shake the fear that one misstep—like that single cup of coffee I had—could derail her future.
While many dismiss the conflicting dietary advice we encounter regularly, I am not one of those people. The notion of whether eggs are healthy or if bread has made a comeback fills me with apprehension. I worry that a simple mistake in choosing the right lettuce could lead to dire health consequences for my child.
Last spring, after basketball season, my 12-year-old daughter was in excellent shape. When I asked my partner, Mike, if she was too thin, he reassured me, saying, “No, she looks great. She’s just been exercising consistently.” Yet, I couldn’t help but worry and promptly bought her a large bag of candy to “fatten her up,” which only led to further anxiety over the ingredients in that very candy.
If I am honest, I wish to curb this worrying tendency. Those of us who are prone to excessive worry often find our thoughts drifting beyond parenting to concerns about the economy, global conflicts, climate change, and the health of aging relatives. Sometimes, I even allow myself to spiral into thoughts about apocalyptic scenarios and secret societies.
I likely possess enough anxiety to share among countless individuals, so for fellow worriers, feel free to take a breather—I’ve got your concerns covered. While I know it’s unlikely I’ll ever fully relinquish my worries, I understand that managing them is crucial for my well-being.
Throughout my life, I’ve experimented with various strategies—medication, yoga, meditation, prayer, and exercise (though not consistently, I admit). Yet, I still find myself entrenched in worry. If individuals like myself do not learn to manage our anxiety, it can rob us of joy. I often look back at moments that should have been savored, like watching a sunset at the beach, only to realize I spent that time fretting over whether we had applied sufficient sunscreen (and what might be in that sunscreen).
I take some comfort in knowing that from the moment our children are born, when we spend sleepless nights ensuring they are safe, to the day they leave for college and we worry about their well-being, we are joined by countless other mothers sharing the same experience.
If you identify as a chronic worrier, please raise your hand and let me know I am not alone. For now, I’ll attempt to unwind with a glass of wine. But first, I must quickly contemplate the sulfates in that wine.
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Summary
This reflection addresses the overwhelming nature of parental worry, particularly for mothers. It highlights how concerns can extend beyond typical anxieties, affecting enjoyment of life’s moments. The piece emphasizes the importance of finding balance and managing stress while acknowledging the shared experience of concern among parents.