THOUGHTS MOMS PARENTING TEENS AND ADULT KIDS ARE ASHAMED THEY THINK—"I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO CARES” | EP. 220
Welcome to the Almost Empty Nest Podcast, where we moms of teens and college kids reframe what letting go really means to feel more connected, confident, and at peace. I'm your host, Master Coach Jennifer Collins.
Have you ever had a thought as a mom and then immediately felt terrible for thinking it? Believe me, you're not alone, and you're truly not a bad mom for thinking it. In this series on the thoughts us moms are ashamed we think, I'm exploring these thoughts and where they're coming from. Because when you shift from judgment to understanding, that's when everything changes. Let's dive in.
Hello, my friend.
I'm the only one who cares. This thought is a bit of departure in this series because a lot of the thoughts I explore in this thoughts moms are ashamed to think series are thoughts we think to ourselves and we immediately feel bad about having them. Most of them feel like thoughts we shouldn't be thinking because of what they might mean about our kids or what they might mean about us.
But this thought, I'm the only one who cares, is a bit different. It's actually a thought we say out loud quite a bit because it's something we can easily share with a group of other moms or girlfriends, and they get it. In fact, it almost invites this shared sense of camaraderie because it feels like a safe comment to make.
It's a comment that other moms and wives will understand immediately because there's almost always some area of their lives where they've had a similar experience, even if the circumstances aren't always exactly the same. I think part of the reason this thought feels so safe to admit to other people is because it feels like we're just saying the truth, that other people in our lives don't care as much as we do, and that we're kind of alone in the experience of carrying the weight of whatever it is we feel we care about more. And actually, that's another reason it can feel like a bit of a relief to share this thought or even laugh about this experience with another mom, because it can feel really lonely to think that no one else cares but you, because when you think this thought, it immediately implies that you're the only one who has to carry the full weight of the worry or the responsibility and the effort of it all.
I'm the only one who cares. This thought shows up in so many different areas of our lives as moms, but I think first and foremost, it shows up in the way we parent our kids. I say all the time on this podcast that we care so much about helping our kids be safe, happy, and successful.
And you would think that our kids want that for themselves too. And by and large, I think it actually is true. I don't think any of our kids are looking to put themselves in danger or not wanting to be happy or successful in their lives.
I think the issue becomes that the way they seem to be going about achieving those goals is drastically different from the way we would ideally like them to go about achieving them. And quite honestly, what that can feel like to us is that they don't care. I have so many clients whose kids don't seem to be applying themselves in school.
And these are moms with kids in middle school and high school and college. I've had moms tell me their kid just doesn't care about school, that they put in the least effort necessary. They see their kids in high school not making an effort to study, turning in things late.
They see their college kid blowing off class, not seeking help from their professor, or not making use of school resources for extra support. What we would love to see is our kids buckling down and working hard, making productive use of their time. We'd love them to talk to us about how they're feeling about their schoolwork.
But what we see is apathy, annoyance when we ask them how things are going, or why they got a D on their latest test. It's hard not to think that your kid could be doing better if they just cared a little bit more. By and large, we're not as concerned with the grade, as long as that grade represented our kid's best effort.
And at times, what we see is the opposite. I mean, how do they not care? We try to ask. We try to see if there's something going on that we don't know about.
Because if they're struggling, we want to help. We'd be willing to help them find a tutor, or maybe help them figure out if they need a different level class. Anything.
Some adjustment to help them feel more successful. And yet they don't want our help. They tell us they're fine.
But meanwhile, we're pretty sure that that's not true. The problem is we rarely get the kind of feedback from our kid that would help us understand what's going on with them. And so we're left to observe their actions, or sometimes their inaction.
And it just reinforces this belief that they don't care. And that can be incredibly frustrating. Because we want them to be successful in school, or in getting a job, or applying themselves in whatever they do.
We want them to look like they care. And when their actions seem to point in the direction of them not caring enough, we feel pulled to step in. We feel pulled to remind them what's at stake, or to nudge them in the right direction.
Really to carry that concern for them. Because if they don't care, then it feels like we need to care for them until they learn their lesson. Our kids' motivation when it comes to school is one of the places this shows up.
But it's definitely not the only one. When it comes to basic life skills and responsibility, it's also common for us to look at our kids' effort and think, they just don't seem to care. We watch them not make an effort to get that summer job, or that job after college.
Or we see them quit one job without a plan for another. We see them showing up late to school, or to their job. They miss deadlines.
They forget important things in their daily life. Or they just don't follow through on things they're supposed to be doing. We see them spending money without thinking about it, or relying on us to bail them out when they run out of money.
We see them incapable of putting away their laundry, or putting their dirty dishes in the dishwasher. And it's not like we haven't tried to remind them, or ask them to take responsibility for these things. So when they don't, you can think that this is just who they're becoming, that they don't care enough to make an effort.
And in our minds, these are the things that matter. These are the skills they're going to need to be independent and to support themselves. And when they don't seem to be developing these skills, or even interested in developing them, it triggers in us the worry that if they don't care about this, then what? What's this going to mean for their future? And so once again, we feel pulled to step in, to remind and to push them, to figure out how to set rules or boundaries to get them to care.
We feel like we, as their mom, have to take on the responsibility of making sure our kids don't fall behind and mess up their future. Because if they're not going to take this seriously, then it feels like we have to in the meantime. And I wish it was just our kids who don't seem to care as much as we do.
But it can also show up in our co-parenting relationships, whether you're married, divorced, separated, or just parenting with another adult. Anytime you're in a situation where you're sharing the responsibility of raising kids with someone else, this thought can come up. And what's interesting is that even when parents are generally aligned on values and goals, they can respond very differently to the same situations with their kids.
I've coached so many moms who say things like, we're mostly on the same page, but he just doesn't worry about this the way I do, or he seems to be able to let things go so much more easily than I can. Other moms have said to me, my kid's dad just doesn't care, or he's not involved. And before we even get into judging parenting styles, it's worth acknowledging that two people in a parenting partnership can both care about their kids and still react very differently.
But from the mom's perspective, what it can feel like is, I'm the one paying attention here. I'm the one who knows what's going on. And you come in with your opinions, and you haven't bothered to get up to speed.
You can feel like your partner doesn't care when you're concerned about your kid's grades or their effort, and they say something like, they'll figure it out. Or when you're worried about your kid's friends or their mood, or whether they seem lonely, and your partner says, they're fine. I've also had clients tell me that their kid can be dismissive or disrespectful to them, and it feels like their partner doesn't bother to step in or back them up.
And in those moments, it's not just that you feel like your partner doesn't care as much as you do. It can actually feel like they're minimizing the fact that you care at all, like you shouldn't be caring this much. And so when your partner tells you to stop worrying, it doesn't help.
It actually just pisses you off. I mean, really? Oh, I hadn't thought of that. Thanks for the suggestion.
It would be amazing if you could just flip your worry switch, but that's not how it works. And being told to stop worrying is pretty much the least effective way to let go of worry. And here's the thing.
When this message that you care too much comes from the person who's supposed to be in this with you, it can feel really demeaning. Like, if you're not going to care more, at least don't make me feel wrong for caring this much. And again, underneath all of this is the same feeling, that if you're not going to step up here, if you're not going to partner with me in supporting our kids, then I guess I have to do it alone.
You know, so in any situation where there's another parent involved, even if they're not actually involved in your kid's life, it can feel really painful to think, I'm the only one who cares. Because you're not just caring the responsibility of caring, you're also caring the resentment that comes from feeling alone in it. But there's a really important reason that it feels so true that you're the only one who cares.
Because the reality is, you do care. You care a lot. You care about your kids and their safety, about their happiness.
You care about their future and whether they're going to be okay in the world. You care about being a good mom and parenting them well. And quite honestly, you probably do notice things that other people don't.
And this may not be universally true of all moms. And it may not be true that those co-parents don't care. But for many of us, we've learned to experience caring as taking responsibility for a kid's safety, happiness, and success.
From the moment we became moms, it can feel like from the moment we become moms, we're in this hyper-vigilant state. We want our home to be safe. We're constantly on the lookout for danger.
We're thinking ahead about what could go wrong. What might they need? What do I need to protect them from? Think about those early days when our kids were babies and toddlers. The moment they started crawling or walking, we started seeing our homes completely differently.
We started noticing the sharp corners. We blocked off the stairs and we covered the outlets. We baby-proofed everything.
Not because something bad had happened, but because we were already thinking about what could happen. And that instinct doesn't just go away as our kids get older. The risks just become less visible and harder to predict.
Instead of sharp corners and stairs, we're thinking about things like their choices and their friendships, their mental health and their motivation. We're thinking about consequences that aren't immediate or obvious, but that feel really real to us. And because we've spent years learning how to anticipate risk and prevent problems before they happen, our brains get very good at scanning ahead.
We get really good at imagining outcomes and seeing how one choice today could turn into a much bigger problem down the road. So when it feels like our kids or our partners aren't thinking that same way, it can genuinely feel like they don't care as much as we do. But what's really happening isn't necessarily that they don't care.
It's that they're just not feeling the same sense of urgency or responsibility around preventing future problems in the same way we do. I mean, the truth is, for so many of us, being a good mom has meant being the one who notices and anticipates and stays on top of things. So our vigilance isn't just about love.
It's also about how we've learned to measure ourselves as mothers. And because we've spent years learning how to anticipate risk and preventing problems before they happen, our brains become very good at scanning ahead. We're very good at imagining outcomes and seeing how one choice today could turn into a much bigger problem down the road.
So when it feels like other people, our kids or our partners, aren't thinking that same way, it can genuinely feel like they don't care. But I want to suggest that what this thought is really pointing to isn't just frustration with other people. At its core, this thought is really about trust.
Because underneath this thought, that I'm the only one who cares, is a scarier belief. And that's, I don't trust that things will be okay if I let go here. And I think that's why the idea of letting go can feel so terrifying to us.
Because letting go doesn't feel safe. It doesn't feel like a simple shift in responsibility. It can even feel like giving up.
Like saying, fine, then whatever happens, happens. And just stepping back while our kids face consequences that we really don't want them to have to face. And especially when our kids are struggling, or making choices that feel risky, or not showing up in the ways that we wish they would, letting go can feel like abandoning them.
So instead, we stay vigilant. We keep worrying and anticipating. Not because we want to control everything, but because it feels safer than facing the fear of what might happen if we don't.
But here's the problem. When you believe you're the only one who cares, you also believe you're the only one who can prevent things from going wrong. And that means you're carrying an enormous amount of responsibility.
And so we naturally start to feel resentful. Resentful of our kids for not stepping up, not caring the way we think they should. We feel resentful of our partners for not worrying more, or backing us up.
And sometimes we even feel resentful of ourselves for caring so much and not knowing how to stop, how to let go of some of that anxiety. But what's important to notice here is that as long as we stay focused on other people, that they don't care, or they aren't doing enough, it keeps us stuck. Because if it's their fault, then we don't have to look at what this role is costing us, or how much mental energy we're spending trying to manage things that may not actually be in our control.
And we also don't have to face the deeper discomfort of seeing things not go the way we want, and also not being in a position to help or change it. So instead, we stay involved. We keep trying to make them care, not because it's working, but because it helps us avoid sitting with our own discomfort.
And I want to be really clear about something here. I am not saying that we shouldn't help our kids, or that we not step in to support them and give them advice, or set boundaries with them. I don't believe letting go means just taking a step back and telling our kids, good luck.
The question really becomes, are our ways of helping coming from care and love, or from anxiety and frustration? Sometimes it can be hard to know the difference, because on the surface, it can look exactly the same. We're still involved, probably still reminding them and trying to help them think things through. But the emotions driving these actions matter a lot.
When our helping is coming simply from love, we give our kids room to figure things out in their own way, even when it's messy. When we set boundaries, we do it intentionally. But when our helping is coming from anxiety or frustration, it's usually being driven by this thought that they don't care, so I have to.
If they're not taking this seriously, then I need to make them take it seriously. And yes, we do this because we love our kids. But also, the responsibility we feel can lead us to not be able to drop the worry and the anxiety until our kids change their behavior, until they show us they care.
And then what? What happens when they don't change? At least not in the near term. And this is how we end up feeling exhausted and resentful and constantly on edge. Not just because we care, but because we're carrying the responsibility for caring for everyone else.
Our kids still need us. They still need guidance and support. They definitely need boundaries and unconditional love.
But they don't need us to carry the weight of their lives for them in the same way that we used to. And this can bring up a lot of discomfort for us because stepping back feels unsafe. And what most of us haven't been taught to do is how to sit with that discomfort without immediately jumping back into control or taking responsibility.
This is what I teach my clients in my coaching program, Mom 2.0. In this program, I teach you a step-by-step process to decide for yourself how to support your kids without sacrificing yourself. Your kid's struggle doesn't mean that you failed. It also doesn't necessarily mean there's something you need to fix.
The truth is, there is no manual or script to tell you how to do this right. I wish there were. But instead, you can learn how to trust yourself so that you can decide, from a place of unconditional love and intention, where to step in and when to let go.
At the end of the day, whether your kid cares a lot or not at all, you are left with you. And whether you get to feel okay in your own body and in your own life while they're figuring things out. Because as long as your peace is dependent on your kid changing, caring more, trying harder, or doing things differently, you're stuck waiting to relax, waiting to feel okay.
And that is exhausting, my friend. The truth is, you're not the only one who cares. You're just the one who's learned to take on the responsibility.
And that made a lot of sense once. Your kids needed you to do this when they were little. But it may not be working in the way you're showing up now.
Loving your kids doesn't require you to constantly hold on to the worry and the responsibility. And letting go in a thoughtful, intentional way isn't giving up. It's trusting yourself to decide on purpose how you want to show up as a mom.
Until next time, my friend.
If you enjoyed this episode, I'd love for you to check out my next free masterclass. There's a link in the show notes. You have more power than you think, my friend.
