Anxiety isn’t the problem, but the response to anxiety can be. Here’s how to turn it around.

When the response to anxiety becomes the problem.

Anxiety is a normal human response designed to warn us of danger. If there is true danger, the drive to avoid means anxiety is doing its job. When this happens, our job is to help them move to safety.

Most often though, anxiety means we are about to do something safe and brave, important, hard. When this happens, our job is to help them to learn that they can feel anxious and do brave.

This can happen one little step at a time, but it starts with changing how we think of anxiety.

The more we treat anxiety as a problem or as something to be avoided, the more we inadvertently turn them away from the safe, growthful, brave things that drive it.

On the other hand, when we make space for anxiety, let it in, welcome it, be with it, the more we make way for them to recognise that anxiety isn’t something they need to avoid. They can feel anxious and do brave.

We have to stop pathologising anxiety.

Every time we pathologise a child with anxiety, we lose an opportunity to strengthen them against it.

Yes they might have extreme anxiety, and yes anxiety makes things feel hard, and yes they are capable of doing hard things.

It doesn’t matter how quickly they move towards brave or how small the steps are. What’s important is not avoiding new, hard, brave things completely.

Being brave isn’t about ‘no anxiety’. In fact, whenever there is a need for brave behaviour, there will always be anxiety. It’s the existence of anxiety that makes it brave. The key to strengthening children isn’t about ‘never experiencing anxiety’, but about knowing they can handle anxiety. This will only come from experience.

As long as what they are doing is safe, we don’t have to ‘fix’ their anxiety. Their anxiety isn’t a sign of breakage. It’s a sign that they’re dealing with something hard, brave, new, or important.

When we pathologise a child with anxiety (‘You can’t do this because you are anxious,’), we inadvertently do two things:

– we confirm the deficiency story that tends to come with anxiety, ‘I’m not strong enough/ brave enough/ good enough to do hard things.’

– we send the message that anxiety is something that should be avoided. The problem with this is that we also send the message that the things that drive anxiety should be avoided. This will include all brave, hard, new, important things, which always come with anxiety.

When they avoid anxiety, they avoid the experiences they need to learn they can handle anxiety – and this wisdom will only come from experience. It doesn’t matter how long this takes or how small the steps are. It also doesn’t matter if they handle this terribly. What matters is the experience and that they don’t feel alone in the experience.

This can happen in tiny steps, each one braver than the last. Each of these steps, however awful they feel, show them they can feel anxious and do brave.

If we want them to know they can feel anxious and do brave, we have to make anxiety ‘be-withable’.

Living bravely with anxiety is about sharing the space with it, not being pushed out by it.

Rather than,‘What’s wrong with you?’ or ‘We need to fix you,’ we have to normalise it: ‘Of course you have anxiety! You’re doing some big things at the moment. How can I help?’

Even when anxiety is extreme and suffocating, we have to normalise the anxiety part of it. Why? Because the more we pathologise anxiety, the more we fuel anxiety about the anxiety.

The experience of anxiety is normal. The intensity might be extreme and unbearable, but the anxiety is normal.

As long as they are truly safe, the intensity of anxiety will be fuelled by anxiety about the anxiety and the story (the reason) they put to their anxiety.

To change the response to anxiety, we have to change the story we put to anxiety.

We humans instinctively put a story to our feelings to make sense of them. When anxiety hits, we automatically ask, ‘Why do I feel like this?’ The brain will often answer with a story of disaster, ‘Because something bad is about to happen,’ or a story of deficiency, ‘Because there’s something wrong with me.’

But there’s another reason: ‘Because I’m moving outside of what feels comfortable and normal for me.’

Stories of disaster or deficiency drive the brain into bigger distress, which intensifies the physiology of anxiety, which amplifies the need to avoid.

Often, this avoidance isn’t about needing to avoid the actual thing (even though it will feel that way). It’s about avoiding the anxiety.

The ‘can’t’ is about the anxiety, not the thing they need to do. This is why we need to make anxiety more be-withable, and change the story they (and we) put to anxiety.

Believe them, that their anxiety feels big AND believe in them, that they can handle the ‘big’.

As long as they are safe, let them know this. Let them see you believing them that this feels big, and believing in them, that they can handle the big.

Believe them AND believe in them.

‘Yes this is hard. I know how much you don’t want to do this. It feels big, doesn’t it. And I know you can do big things, even when it feels like you can’t. How can I help?’


‘Yes this feels scary. Of course it does – you’re doing something important/ new/ hard. I know you can do this. How can I help you feel brave?’

Name their wish to avoid AND their capacity to approach. One doesn’t cancel out the other.  

‘I know it feels like you can’t, and I know you can. This is happening and we’re going to handle it together. What would make it easier?’

You might not be able to respond in these ways every time, and that’s okay. What matters is:

  • being intentional,
  • making sure they don’t feel alone and unseen in the experience (which is why validation – believing them – is important), and
  • knowing that every time they experience handling the discomfort of anxiety to move towards something important (even if they don’t handle it well) they are learning that the presence of anxiety doesn’t change how brave or capable they are.

They won’t believe in themselves until we show them what they are capable of. For this, we’ll have to believe in their ‘can’ more than they believe in their ‘can’t’.

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I love being a parent. I love it with every part of my being and more than I ever thought I could love anything. Honestly though, nothing has brought out my insecurities or vulnerabilities as much. This is so normal. Confusing, and normal. 

However many children we have, and whatever age they are, each child and each new stage will bring something new for us to learn. It will always be this way.

Our children will each do life differently, and along the way we will need to adapt and bend ourselves around their path to light their way as best we can. But we won’t do this perfectly, because we can’t always know what mountains they’ll need to climb, or what dragons they’ll need to slay. We won’t always know what they’ll need, and we won’t always be able to give it. We don’t need to. But we’ll want to. Sometimes we’ll ache because of this and we’ll blame ourselves for not being ‘enough’. Sometimes we won’t. This is the vulnerability that comes with parenting. 

We love them so much, and that never changes, but the way we feel about parenting might change a thousand times before breakfast. Parenting is tough. It’s worth every second - every second - but it’s tough.

Great parents can feel everything, and sometimes it can turn from moment to moment - loving, furious, resentful, compassionate, gentle, tough, joyful, selfish, confused and wise - all of it. Great parents can feel all of it.

Because parenting is pure joy, but not always. We are strong, nurturing, selfless, loving, but not always. Parents aren’t perfect. Love isn’t perfect. And it was meant to be. We’re raising humans - real ones, with feelings, who don’t need to be perfect, and wont  need others to be perfect. Humans who can be kind to others, and to themselves first. But they will learn this from us.

Parenting is the role which needs us to be our most human, beautifully imperfect, flawed, vulnerable selves. Let’s not judge ourselves for our shortcomings and the imperfections, and the necessary human-ness of us.❤️
Brains and bodies crave balance. 

When our bodies are too hot, too cold, fighting an infection, we’ll will shiver or fever or sweat in an attempt to regulate.

These aren’t deliberate or deficient, but part of the magnificent pool of resources our bodies turn to to stay strong for us.

Our nervous systems have the same intense and unavoidable need for balance.

When the brain FEELS unsafe (doesn’t mean it is unsafe) it will attempt to recruit support. How? Through feelings. When we’re in big feels, someone is going to notice. Our boundaries are clear. Were seen, heard, noticed. Maybe not the way we want to be, but when the brain is in ‘distress’ mode, it only cares about the next 15 seconds. This is why we all say or do things we wouldn’t normally do when we’re feeling big sad, angry, anxious, jealous, lonely, frustrated, unseen, unheard, unvalidated.

In that moment, our job isn’t to stop their big feelings. We can’t. In that moment they don’t have the resources or the skills to regulate so they need our help.

When they’re in an emotional storm, our job is to be the anchor - calm, attached, grounded.

Breathe and be with. Hold the boundaries you need to hold to keep everyone (including them) relationally and physically safe, and add warmth. This might sound like nothing at all - just a calm, steady, loving presence, or it might sound like:

‘I know this feels big. I’m here. I want to hear you. (Relationship)

AND
No I won’t hear you while you’re yelling. (Boundary) Get it out of you though. Take your time. I’m right here. (Relationship. The message is, bring your storm to me. I can look after you.)

OR
No I won’t let you hurt my body / sibling’s body. (Boundary. Step away or move sibling out of the way.) I’m right here. You’re not in trouble. I’m right here. (Relationship)

OR if they’re asking for space:
Ok I can see you need space. It’s a good idea that you take the time you need. I’m right here and I’ll check on you in a few minutes. Take your time. There’s no hurry. (Relationship - I can look after you and give you what you need, even when it’s space from me.)’♥️
I think this is one of the hardest things as parents - deciding when to protect them and when to move forward. The line isn’t always clear, but it’s an important one. 

Whenever our kiddos feels the distress of big anxiety, we will be driven to protect them from that distress. It’s what makes us loving, amazing, attentive parents. It’s how we keep them safe. 

The key is knowing when that anxiety is because of true danger, and when it’s because they are about to do something growthful, important, or brave. 

We of course want to hold them back from danger, but not from the things that will grow them. 

So when their distress is triggering ours, as it is meant to, and we’re driven to support their avoidance, ask,

‘Do they feel like this because they’re jn danger or because they’re about to do something brave, important, growthful.’

‘Is this a time for me to hold them back (from danger), or is it a time for me to support them forward (towards something important/ brave/ growthful)?’

And remember, the move towards brave can be a teeny shuffle - one tiny brave step at a time. It doesn’t have to be a leap.❤️

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