“Mom…” my son, Alex, says, his voice trembling. “I feel really anxious.” He fidgets nervously, trying to shake off the unease gripping him, and takes a deep breath, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through pursed lips as he’s been taught.
I mirror his deep breathing, attempting to offer some comfort. “It’ll be alright,” I assure him. “You’ve been through this before, remember? You can do it.” We’re preparing for a family road trip that spans 14 hours, followed by a week away from home, and then the journey back. Traveling long distances isn’t new for us; we spent a year exploring the country not too long ago. Back then, Alex’s anxiety was limited to specific triggers, mostly surrounding his fear of illness. It’s only recently that he’s developed a more pervasive anxiety regarding being away from familiar surroundings.
Despite my best intentions, I find myself resorting to well-worn clichés that I know won’t help. “Don’t worry,” I say. “Everything will be fine. Worrying won’t change anything.” It’s frustrating; every expert I’ve consulted has affirmed that telling someone with anxiety to stop worrying is futile. Even Alex has expressed the same sentiment, yet I still fall into the trap of offering empty reassurances.
I have a deep-seated disdain for anxiety. It’s not a popular opinion, but it’s how I feel. I despise what it has done to my imaginative and gifted son. I resent how it tries to dictate his choices, how it stifles his passions, and how it thrives on fear and irrationality—qualities I usually combat with logic and reason. Anxiety can be deceptive and overwhelming, and I often find myself struggling to manage its effects.
In moments of heightened anxiety, I’ve occasionally lost my patience with Alex. I’m not proud of this fact, but when his panic strikes at the most inconvenient times, it’s easy to misplace my frustration. It’s not his fault; it’s the anxiety that’s overwhelming him, yet my emotions sometimes misfire.
The reality is that we are both human, and neither of us has a perfect handle on this difficult journey. Alex has started therapy, which didn’t work out at first, but we’re now exploring a new therapist who seems promising. We’re committed to finding the right path, and if cognitive behavioral therapy doesn’t yield the desired results, we’ll consider other options, including medication.
Navigating anxiety is challenging, particularly for those who don’t experience it themselves. It’s hard to empathize with someone’s daily struggle when you’ve never faced it. Anxiety isn’t always visible; it can manifest in unexpected physical symptoms like dizziness and unexplained headaches. Unlike common nervousness, debilitating anxiety can be tough for others to comprehend.
As a mother, my instinct is to alleviate my child’s suffering. I wish I could confront anxiety directly and banish it from his life. However, I’ve come to realize that I must educate myself on ways to support him, seek professional help, and manage my own frustrations. I need to channel my energy into being a source of strength for Alex while reserving my anger towards anxiety for moments of solitude. It’s essential to keep in mind that while my frustration is real, it pales in comparison to what Alex is experiencing.
To all the parents navigating life with anxious children, we may not have all the answers, but we are doing our best. For further insights on managing anxiety and supporting your child, consider visiting excellent resources like WomensHealth.gov and exploring our other blog posts like this one. Additionally, for those interested in fertility options, Make a Mom provides valuable information on related topics.
In summary, understanding and empathizing with a child who struggles with anxiety is a complex journey that requires patience, education, and support. As parents, we must navigate our feelings and frustrations while being the rock our children need.