I’m an Anxious Mom. Here’s How I Stop My Fear from Curbing My Kids’ Confidence

“But I know I can do it, Mommy!” my son Ari said in the bravest voice he could muster, but he couldn’t hide the tears beginning to well up in his eyes. There my 4-year-old son stood next to a boulder more than five times his size, begging me to let him climb it, but more than anything, he was begging me to believe in him.

I was at a crossroads. When I looked up at that boulder, I told myself to be brave–plenty of parents let their kids climb boulders at this lake, including this giant one, evidenced by the fact that my friend’s kids were already up at the top. Perhaps this was simply a rite of passage for children growing up in the Pacific Northwest; it was certainly a stark contrast to my suburbs-and-sidewalks upbringing in Middle America. I had never climbed a boulder myself–not as a child and not as an adult–nor did I have a desire to. I had a fear of heights that dated back to rope climbing in my middle school P.E. class. (I made it about two feet off the ground before becoming terrified of plummeting to my death.) Despite this, I knew if I needed to go up and get Ari down from the rock I’d somehow have to overcome my fear. But when my friend offered to follow him up, I readily accepted.

Even with her closely behind him and my attempts at repeatedly telling myself this was OK–he was OK; I was OK–I couldn’t block out the images flashing through my mind of my son tumbling off the rock and cracking his head open on his way down. I asked her to guide him down, and when he started to protest, I was intentional about the words I chose in my response.

“Of course you can do it, honey. I know you can. You’re so brave. I’d just prefer you go to the top when Daddy is with us.”

“But Moooom,” he groaned.

“How about we come back here tomorrow and show Daddy the boulder we found? Then you two can climb it together!”

This seemed to satisfy him for the time being, but I knew this meant we had to come back, and I would have to let him climb. I wasn’t thrilled with this idea, but I also wanted to be mindful not to squelch my son’s adventure, bravery and newfound confidence.

Truth be told, Ari has been a cautious child since birth, which I’ve appreciated as someone who’s dealt with postpartum anxiety since then too. He’s a calculated risk taker, carefully thinking things through and relying on his surprisingly excellent gauge of his own abilities. He also has a knack for sensing any sort of hesitancy and anxiety in me.

Until recently, if my husband, Ryan, told him he could do something, he would immediately look to me for approval. My son is intuitive, and he always knows how I feel by looking at my face. If he senses I don’t want him to do it, he’ll tell his dad no. Sometimes he’ll make up some other excuse as to why he doesn’t want to do something, but we can always tell when it’s because he’s picked up on my anxiety.

“He needs to know that you believe in him,” Ryan said to me one day after a visit to the park where we had experienced this. He told Ari to ride his bike around the half mile track and that we’d wait for him at the playground. When he saw my eyes bulge at the thought of him doing this alone, you can guess what his response was.

“Of course I believe in him,” I said. The idea sounded completely ludicrous to me. “It has nothing to do with believing in him. It’s that he wants to be safe, and he trusts my judgment because we’re naturally very similar.”

It wasn’t until the afternoon at the lake months later when Ari bravely insisted that he could climb the boulder, and I saw the look in his eyes that I realized Ryan was right. In my attempts to keep my son safe and to ease my own anxiety, I had been unintentionally sending a message to him that I didn’t believe in him.

That realization hit home hard because I knew I had been in his shoes. My mother also tended to be a worrier and the safer of my two parents. I take after her in that regard. When I decided to run for sophomore class president in high school, I shared the news with my mom and was surprised when she tried to discourage me from running, even going so far as saying it was unlikely I’d win. I had only been at the school for a year, after all. At the time, I thought this meant my mom didn’t believe in me. She didn’t think I was good enough to win or that people liked me enough to vote for me–she didn’t explicitly say those things, but I imagined that those were the reasons why she didn’t want me to run. But I chose to run anyway, and I won.

It’s only after becoming a mom and finding myself in this position with my own child, 20 years later, that I realize that my mom believed in me more than anyone (and still does for that matter). It wasn’t about that for her. It was about protecting me, and in this case, it wasn’t from physical harm; she was trying to protect me from disappointment. What she didn’t realize though was that she was creating an entirely different kind of disappointment.

I don’t want it to take 20 or 30 years for my kids to realize that I’ve believed in them all along. I want them to know that just because I don’t want them to do something, it doesn’t mean it’s because I don’t think they can do it. More than that, I want them to feel confident in their own abilities and not be afraid to try new things throughout their lives. In the months following the boulder incident, I’ve come up with some guiding principles to help me ensure that I’m keeping my anxiety in check while also building my kids’ self-confidence and keeping them safe that I hope can help you too.

1. Choose your response carefully, and don’t forget to include affirmations.

Similar to how I repeated to Ari that I knew he was brave, be sure that you’re offering those reassurances that kids need. Instead of simply telling them no, they can’t do something, consider explaining to them why. Make a distinction for them between something that is dangerous for anyone versus something they specifically don’t have the ability to do yet. Lastly, be mindful that kids can glean just as much from the things you don’t say as the things that you do say.

2. Don’t ignore your gut.

If there is a legitimate safety concern or you simply aren’t comfortable with something your child wants to do, remember that you’re the parent. When I’m talking about my experiences with anxiety, I’m not saying that you should ignore the tiny voice inside telling you that your kids shouldn’t do something. In fact, I firmly believe that a parent’s intuition is a real thing that shouldn’t be ignored. If, even after your child’s protesting that he’s brave, you still don’t want him to do whatever it is, it’s OK to say no. If you find yourself in this situation, remember to use your words carefully and let him down in a way that doesn’t negatively impact his confidence. Explain to him why the situation is unsafe or why you don’t want him to do it, and if there’s a time or scenario in which you may let him do it, explain that too.

3. Sometimes it’s necessary to put on a brave face, even when you don’t feel brave yourself.

Remember that kids are always listening to what you say and do. They can be the best observers, often picking up on things when we don’t even realize they’re paying attention at all. (We’ve all heard those stories of toddlers using swear words in the perfect context after overhearing them weeks, or even months, earlier!) This isn’t always easy–trust me, I know. I once smiled through gritted teeth on a gondola ride to the top of a mountain trying desperately to keep myself from panicking. To the extent that you can, however, try to measure your response in front of your kids. Let me be clear about something though–when I say “put on a brave face,” I’m not saying to ignore your anxiety or stuff your feelings down. Instead, I’m saying to find what works for you to manage it and get through–whether it’s a mantra, exercise, therapy, medication or a combination of things. When we take care of ourselves, we’re providing a healthy example for our kids, and when we show them that we can overcome our fears, it helps them learn that they can do the same.

4. Know that it’s OK to sit things out.

When you find a situation in which you simply can’t shrug off your anxiety, know that it’s OK to pass and let your partner, family member or family friend take the lead. I’ve noticed that sometimes my kids are braver when I’m not there. Whether it’s them feeding off of my anxiety or the nurturing, motherly vibes that I give (I like to tell myself it’s the latter), I can’t deny that they’re more willing to try new things with their dad. This is frustrating to me because I like to think that I’m also fun, and I hate feeling like I’m missing out on making memories with my family. However, I remind myself that there are different scenarios in which my kids prefer me to their dad so it all evens out in the end. If my skipping out on their first ski lessons means that they can build some confidence on the slopes with Dad, then I’ll let him take the lead on this one while I’m warm and dry at home. (Who am I kidding? I’m not a skier anyway! The chair lift alone gives me an anxiety attack!) Making this decision doesn’t have to be a forever thing–you don’t need to permanently designate certain activities for certain parents. However, it might be worth considering this approach when introducing some activities or for activities that simply make you too anxious to watch. Once they’ve gained confidence in their new activity, just think of how proud they’ll be to show off their new skill to you, and you can breathe more easily.

Christina is the author of License to Parent: How My Career as a Spy Helped Me Raise Resourceful, Self-Sufficient Kids, available June 8, 2021. Christina and her husband Ryan Hillsberg are former spies with more than 20 years experience working at the Central Intelligence Agency before transitioning to the private sector. They live near Seattle, Washington, with their five children and two Rhodesian Ridgebacks. Visit Christina’s website here.