When I was a young girl, probably about 10 years old or so, I had my first anxiety attack. I remember in vivid detail spending the night at my grandparents’ house while my parents enjoyed an evening to themselves. I started panicking, thinking about all of the things that could, that would go wrong because I was away from my parents.
I cried, and I screamed, and I begged my grandmother to please let me go to see them. I remember writing in a notebook how sure I was that something was about to go terribly wrong. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t control these emotions, and I felt sick to my stomach.
My heart hurts for 10-year-old me.
Twenty years later, I find myself actively managing a Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) diagnosis. All of the signs were there, even since I’d been that 10-year-old. But back then, the conversations around anxiety — and mental illness in general — was a hushed, taboo topic. I wonder if I’d received treatment, or even just acknowledgment, of my struggle: would I still be here right now?
Recalling my childhood anxiety didn’t surface out of the blue. I am a mum to two school-aged daughters. While my youngest is too young to be preoccupied with much more than moment to moment, I’ve noticed my older daughter exhibiting anxious behaviors.
She worries excessively about insignificant things. She worries about not finishing her schoolwork even though it isn’t due for another week. Come hell or high water, she will complete her work the same day it’s assigned, and if she doesn’t, she can’t sleep.
During the school day, she goes from zero to one hundred over the smallest things. She answered a question wrong on Zoom, and now she thinks everyone thinks she is stupid, even though it’s something new. She hates keeping her camera on during class because it gives her a worried feeling that all the kids are watching her.
What can I say? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Honestly, deep down, I blame myself for her anxiousness. When you realise your child may suffer from the same mental illness that you do, you wonder what it is you did or didn’t do for it to come to this.
The difference between my daughter’s anxiousness and my childhood experience is that this time around, we talk it out. I wasn’t sure how to approach the conversation with her. All I knew for sure was I want her to know what she was feeling was okay and that she could talk to me, and I would always listen.
We started as simply as that, just talking.
We talked about things that made us feel worried. She was worried about not doing well in school. She was worried about her friends leaving her behind. So I listened, and took note of what she said.
You’d be amazed at how much kids will talk about hard things before they’ve been conditioned by society that it’s taboo.
I enlisted the help of her school counselor, a dedicated educator who takes one day a week to meet with my daughter on Zoom and talk about how her day was. Together they recite positive affirmations and create strategies to help her ebb the overwhelmed feeling before it takes over. She has a ‘worry workbook’; it’s an illustrated journal with printables you can find online. I’m seriously considering creating one of my own.
Together, my daughter and I journal, and colour, and sing all the wrong words to our favourite songs. I let her see me cry, and I let her see me take my daily medication. I explained to her that when the worried feeling becomes so great that it stops you from doing things you need to do, sometimes you just need a little extra help.
That last one; that was the hardest things I’ve done as a mother. To let her see I wasn’t as strong or as perfect as she thought I was. The reality is, if you have a headache, you take an aspirin, so if you struggle with anxiety, there is nothing wrong with taking medication to manage it. These hard conversations are essential if we want to change our children’s relationship with mental health.
Remember what I said about blaming myself for my daughter’s anxious behaviors? While research suggests that anxiety can be partially genetic, I’ll do everything in my power to ensure my daughter has a holistic understanding of mental health. No shame, no fear of asking questions about why you feel these feelings.
In our home, we talk it out.