Are You an Anxious Mom? Overcome Your Fears
“A
further sign of health is that we don't become undone by fear and
trembling, but we take it as a message that it's time to stop
struggling and look directly at what's threatening us.”
-Pema Chodron
This morning I was thinking about fear, and about the many ways that fear can undermine my relationships: especially the parent-child relationship. I'm a mother to four children, and I homeschool. For someone who likes to keep a tight hand on the reins, with my chosen lifestyle, I'm given many, daily opportunities to confront this need to control. And what drives my control is fear:
- If I let my children direct more of their schoolwork, they won't learn anything. Or worse, they won't want to learn anything.
- If I let my children experience the consequences of their actions, then they'll make poor choices and hurt themselves, and others.
- When my children are picking on their siblings or fighting or whining about chores or lie or do anything that I believe isn't okay, then I fear that they'll never make friends/become a bully/manipulate others/turn into homeless street bums.
When I'm fearful, I overreact. I react to the mental diatribe in my mind, rather than the situation at hand. When I'm fearful, I second-guess myself, revisiting my decisions, because I'm so caught up in making the right decision. When I'm fearful, I imagine worst-case scenarios: that my children will become homeless street bums.
I was with a child psychologist last weekend during a trip to Yellowstone, and we were talking about the pressure that many parents feel today to be perfect parents. Some authors refer to our modern day parenting culture as "parenting in the age of anxiety." We put such importance on making sure we say the right thing to our children, and preparing them properly for adulthood, that we parent on eggshells, plagued by a chronic feeling that we're not measuring up. This psychologist made a wise comment: "I always tell parents, 'Say what you think is best, and trust that your children are resilient.'"
I felt such freedom, a breathing space, when she said those words. My heart responded and instantly relaxed. Yes. When I was pregnant with my fourth child, and feeling uncertain about my ability to care for another child, a friend of mine commented, "Children bring their own abundance." She wasn't talking about material goods; she was speaking about what the psychologist was speaking about: an inner resilience; the unique strengths and assets that our children bring to their part of the parent-child relationship.
Can I trust that my children will survive, and even thrive, even though I parent imperfectly? Can I trust that the universe had a perfect, unfolding plan when it entrusted my children to my care? Can I trust that my children will be able to cope and adjust and grow through their challenges? Can I trust that my children are strong enough to weather their own lessons and learning experiences? Can I trust that they will be supported in their journey? Can I trust that I will be supported in my journey, as their parent, and that I will know how best to assist them?
Think about your issues with your children. Dig down far enough, and see if fear is at the root of your sticking points. There's an excellent story at I Was Thinking, a delightful blog by mother of three Heidi Hass Gable, about Heidi's reaction to her daughter's torment of her younger brother. As Heidi was getting more and more irritated at her daughter's behavior, she was able to stop, put on her pause button, and ask herself, "What's really going on here? Why am I getting so upset?" Fear strikes again.
I'm thinking back to a question Sonia Choquette posed to me last May: "Who would you be if you were not afraid?" I'll amend that question for this post: "What kind of parent would you be if you were not afraid?"
If I were not afraid, I would honor my children's point of view as well as my own. If I were not afraid, I would care more about my relationship with my children then on being right. If I were not afraid, instead of acting out my worries, I would question them. If I were not afraid, I would pause, and recognize whatever I'm carrying on about---whether it be the dishes in the dishwasher, the unmade bed, or the math problems that went unsolved---in the grand scheme of things, isn't all that important, anyway.









