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I wasn’t sure that I should have children, I didn’t think I had the right hereditary background for it. My family has a long list of mental illnesses in its lines. I hate when I go to a new doctor, or take my children to see a new specialist, and I have to cover family mental health history. Sometimes I think it would be easier to list what we aren’t diagnosed with. Although, sometimes that also just seems like an oversight.
My husband also comes naturally to his anxiety, although his family has not been as open about seeking professional help. This leaves me often with a long list of confirmed diagnoses on my side, but only hypotheses on his.
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Sometimes we still make the hard choice
But I also clung to the hope that my own opens and awareness would allow me to support my children, and hopefully fend off some of the stigmas they might encounter. I knew that I was more aware as an adult of what triggered my anxiety, as well as ways to tolerate anxiety-producing situations. My belief was I could share this information with my children and bypass all the hardship I had as a child.
I think in some ways I have been successful. My children are open about what things worry them.
Roses is learning that she has to push through her social anxiety and she will enjoy herself.
Dino feels no shame in taking medication for his ADHD and is willing to openly discuss it with his teacher.
Rainbow has learned how important it is to talk with anyone about her sadness.
I am glad when I hear her and her sister whispering late at night with each other. Sometimes you don’t want to talk to a parent. Knowing that there is no shame in depression, anxiety, or ADHD means that they can have conversations.
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They talk with their friends about therapy and how it has and hasn’t helped. They also know that there is no fixing themselves. Instead, we talk about taking care of ourselves and recognizing when we might need a little extra help.
I make it all sound so magical and perfect don’t I?
As parents, we can still struggle
The truth of the matter is parenting has made me a mess. My anxiety seems so much more cyclical than before. I hate the beginning of each school year. Having to meet teachers, my children’s friends and their parents, and the dramatic shift in our routines.
Each fall I am surprised by the depth of my anxiety. I can’t remember if I felt the same when I was younger or not. Also, I worry about my children all the time. I know all parents worry some. But I also know my worries can go above and beyond.
When Dino was born I thought he would never learn to use verbal language. It didn’t matter that his sister had thrived with her hearing aids, or that we already had a huge support system. All I could think about was the fact that boys tend to be less verbal than girls and so he would never gain appropriate language. It was ridiculous, yet all-consuming. He has never needed speech therapy and gives his sister’s a run for their money in conversation.
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Social Anxiety makes Parenting Difficult
Every time my child wants to have a friend over I worry about having to talk to their parents. I have created a detailed list of social rules, and I find parenting makes so many of these rules impossible. Before kid, I would never invite myself over to someone’s house. I need to text to say my child is already headed over.
I also worry about what kind of parent I am. Many parents wonder if they are doing the right things for their children. I can list everything I do wrong, over and over again. Often I dismiss the things I do right, only focusing on what I think I should do.
Personally, I am not a cuddly person, and I wonder if this has made my children feel more isolated. My children whom I have held and hugged, and snuggled since they were born. The logical side of me knows that I am doing the best I can. The anxious side of me knows that my children are being irreparably harmed by me.
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Here’s the rub of it all. As a parent with anxiety, I can understand my own children’s discomforts more fully. On the other hand, I feel singularly responsible for that discomfort.
Our children remind us they will be okay
And then Roses comes home from school and tells me how she ate lunch with a new girl because she remembered how worried she was her first day as the new kid.
Or Dino tells me how much he likes his new teacher because she lets him move around in class, and his new teacher says he is such a sweet kid.
Rainbow collects friends like trading cards, becoming close to the other children who are often ostracized because of their differences.
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Being different helps us think different
My children are amazing not in spite of their own neurodivergence, but often because of it. My anxiety has kept me safe before and has allowed me to relate to young kids in my classes that feel big worries.
It is difficult to be different because we think different is wrong. Truthfully, the difference is nothing, it just gives us a chance to see things in a new way.
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