Growing up in a Catholic school environment, I often found myself in the confessional, sharing my misdeeds with the priest. I still remember the anxiety I felt over those three check marks I received for doing unauthorized cartwheels during gym class (which led to an inexplicable term paper about hockey—seriously, hockey?). The relief I experienced when told that God had forgiven my innocent yet rebellious cartwheels was unforgettable.
There’s something undeniably therapeutic about confessing, whether it’s to a friend, a colleague, or a partner. It allows us to unburden ourselves and often find reassurance that we’re not alone in our struggles. Today, I have a confession of my own: I am a chronic worrier, especially when it comes to parenting.
I’m not talking about the usual parental fears—like kids playing outside or handling scissors. My worries are on another level. For instance, I fret over whether I might have exposed my daughter to toxins during pregnancy and how that could impact her future. What if she doesn’t get into her dream college because of too much fluoride in our water? Sure, she’s excelling in her classes now, but what if it all unravels because I had caffeine that one time?
While most people seem to brush off the confusing advice about food—Are eggs good or bad? Is bread back on the menu?—I find myself in a constant state of anxiety. I worry about making the wrong food choices and potentially causing my child to develop an autoimmune disease because I didn’t know which kind of lettuce to buy.
Last spring, after basketball season, my 12-year-old was in terrific shape. I asked my husband if she was too thin, to which he replied, “No, she looks great. She’s been working out every day.” But instead of taking his word for it, I panicked and bought her a giant bag of Starburst, thinking it would help her gain some weight (and then worried about the scary ingredients in those treats).
Deep down, I want to conquer this worry habit. It’s not just parenting that preoccupies my mind; I fret about everything from the stock market to global warming, politics, and even the future of our planet. Sometimes, I’ll even spiral into thoughts about Armageddon or conspiracies like The Illuminati.
I likely have enough anxiety stored up for everyone, so if you’re also a chronic worrier, take a breather—I’ve got you covered. Part of me understands that I may never fully eliminate these worries, but I know that the healthiest path forward is to let go of some of them.
Throughout my life, I’ve tried various methods to manage my anxiety—meditation, yoga, medication, exercise (though, let’s be honest, not always consistently), changing my diet, and journaling. Yet, I still find myself drowning in worry. If people like me don’t find a way to rein in our anxieties, they can rob us of happiness. I often look back on moments, like enjoying a sunset at the beach, and realize I spent it fretting over whether we had applied enough sunscreen (and then, of course, worrying about what was in that sunscreen).
I do find comfort in knowing that from the moment our children are born, when we’re up all night checking to make sure they’re breathing, to the time they leave for college, we’re joined by countless other mothers sharing the same fears.
To my fellow chronic worriers, please raise your hands and let me know I’m not alone in this! Meanwhile, I’ll kick back with a glass of wine—but first, I need to quickly ponder all those sulfates.
For more information on pregnancy and parenting, check out this excellent resource on pregnancy. Also, if you’re interested in the journey of home insemination, you can visit this authority on the topic for more insights.
Summary
The author shares her struggles with excessive worrying, especially regarding parenting. From concerns about childhood nutrition to fears about toxins during pregnancy, the narrative highlights the universal anxieties that many parents face. The piece conveys a sense of camaraderie among those who worry and emphasizes the importance of finding ways to manage these fears for a more joyful life.