The other day, I dropped my teenagers off at their father’s place just moments before he arrived home. As I watched them enter the house, I rummaged through my wallet for some cash. My ex had mentioned before I left that there was an issue with the front door knob, and they were having trouble unlocking it. “It’s been tricky to open, so make sure they get in alright before you head out. I’ll be home soon,” he said.
As I drove away, I couldn’t shake off the image of my kids walking through that door. I repeatedly told myself they were inside, safe and sound. But then doubt crept in. Did I truly see them enter? The thought filled me with anxiety, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to check again.
I pulled over to glance at my phone. The volume was up, and there were no new messages. I knew it was irrational, but I called my daughter anyway. “Did you make it in?” I asked.
“Yes, Mom, didn’t you see us?” she replied, not surprised. She reminded me she hadn’t called to notify me of any issues. “We’re fine.”
My children are aware of my need to double-check occasionally. They understand that my anxiety can erode my self-assurance and make me second-guess everything. However, their familiarity with my behavior doesn’t lessen the weight of admitting it to myself as a problem.
Even when I’ve witnessed something firsthand, reminded my kids to take precautions, and logically know they’re safe, I still find myself needing to verify things. This isn’t a daily habit, but it happens more often than I care to admit.
Discussing my anxiety is challenging; I feel a mix of shame and embarrassment. When they were younger, I would check their breathing if they napped too long, convinced that this need would fade as they grew. But it didn’t.
In their early years, when I did leave them with a sitter (which was rare, maybe twice a year), I would go over every detail with the caregiver and worry the entire time. It seemed easier to avoid leaving them altogether. During their school days, I would often experience overwhelming worry, even going so far as to call the school and feign a wrong number just to hear the secretary’s voice and the comforting sounds of normalcy.
There are nights when I wake up anxious, needing to confirm that my son’s car is still in the garage, even though I stay up until he returns home. Sometimes, I ask him to text me when he arrives at the gym, fully aware that he dislikes doing so. I often reach out to my children multiple times when they’re at a friend’s house or when I’m running errands and they’re home alone.
This anxious behavior has become second nature to them; they know it’s just how their mom operates. Anxiety craves answers, it lacks patience, and it demands immediate reassurance. It grips you tightly, compelling you to seek control and calm.
I don’t double or triple-check out of forgetfulness; I do it to soothe the doubts that plague my mind. I need that certainty to feel okay. Without it, the dark places my thoughts can lead me to feel unbearable.
I do this because I often feel lost without that reassurance.
In summary, parenting independent teenagers has brought anxiety to a new level for me. My need to double-check and verify their safety is more than just a habit—it’s a coping mechanism to manage my worries. This struggle is ongoing, and while it’s a part of who I am as a parent, it remains an uncomfortable truth I navigate daily.
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Keyphrase: Parenting Teenagers Anxiety
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