Yesterday unfolded like any other day. I woke up later than intended, which set off a chain reaction of chaos that left me breathless until I finally dropped my son off at daycare. As I strolled down the path leading to the parking lot, I finally found a moment to gather my thoughts instead of merely reacting to the whirlwind around me.
That’s when the anxiety kicked in. Before I even reached my workplace or got back to my car, a flurry of thoughts invaded my mind. Did I express my love for him? I can’t shake the nagging feeling that I forgot to say “I love you.” He might know I care about him, but what kind of mother am I if I didn’t say those words?
Logically, I understand that my son is aware of my love. The rational part of me reminds me of this, yet I still struggle with these intrusive worries. I shouldn’t allow my insecurities to spiral into unfounded anxiety, but it feels beyond my control.
Once I settled into my car, I called my partner, feeling weighed down by concern. I confessed my fear of not having told our child I love him. He reassured me, echoing the words I’ve tried to convince myself with: “He knows you love him.” Finally, I felt a slight lift in the burden of worry—at least until the next wave hits.
I embody the archetype of a worried mom—an anxious mother who is desperate for change. My concerns range from the rational to the obsessive and even the bizarre. I fret that I might have been too stern with my son, worrying that it will leave a lasting impression on him. I agonize over whether he had enough to eat or if he felt neglected while I was preoccupied with chores. I second-guess whether putting him in time-out was appropriate when all he needed was comfort.
At night, I find myself checking on him multiple times while he sleeps, questioning whether his breathing is steady or if his limbs are trapped between the crib bars. I worry about potential dangers throughout the day, even when there’s no real basis for those fears. What if he breaks free from my grasp and runs into the street? I always hold his hand firmly. What if he falls while playing? He’s two years old now, and while kids are resilient, the notion still terrifies me. What if I didn’t say “I love you,” and this is the last moment we have together? Logically, I know I shouldn’t dwell on such thoughts, yet I do.
This relentless cycle of worry leaves me mentally drained. I expend energy on concerns that could be used to enjoy time with my child. My mind constantly fixates on what I should be doing, what I regret doing, and what I need to adjust next time. I replay conversations and events, obsessing over things that my son won’t even remember. I tend to hold on to mistakes, even when he has long since forgotten them.
To anyone who doesn’t experience anxiety, my thoughts may seem irrational. At times, I worry that I might be losing my grip on reality. But I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I’m worrying too much! I wish I could simply let the day unfold without overanalyzing everything. If only I could find a way to quiet my thoughts or at least bring them down to a manageable level. I’m determined to achieve this—for my son’s sake.
I don’t want my anxiety to be something he inherits. One day, he will be able to sense my worries, to see the concern etched on my face, and he might begin to think there’s something to be anxious about. I never want him to carry the burden of worry that I do. He deserves a confident and resilient mother, not a constantly anxious one. That’s the transformation I aim for, even though I haven’t reached it yet. For now, he has to cope with me as the worried mom. Despite my fears, I cherish the role of being his mother, and he knows it.
Even if I fret that he may not realize it because I forget to say those three words, he knows I love him.
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Summary
This article discusses the struggles of a worried mother who grapples with anxiety over her parenting choices. It highlights her fears about being a good mother and the toll that constant worry takes on her mental health. Despite her challenges, she expresses a strong desire to become a more resilient figure for her son, ensuring he does not inherit her anxieties.