THOUGHTS MOMS PARENTING TEENS AND ADULT KIDS ARE ASHAMED THEY THINK—“I FEEL LIKE I'M WALKING ON EGGSHELLS WITH MY BIG KID” | EP. 230
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.
Do you ever have that moment with your big kid when you hear the door open, or you hear their footsteps, and before you even see them, you feel tense? Or maybe you get that text or the phone call, and you're afraid to pick up the phone to see what's going on, because you wonder, what version of my kid am I about to get? When you're engaging with your kid, you brace yourself.
You know that you need to choose your words carefully, or maybe you decide you're going to not say anything at all. It's a scenario moms come to me with all the time, and as they describe it, they'll tell me, I feel like I'm walking on eggshells with my kid. It seems almost inconceivable that we would be in this place with our kids.
This person who used to listen to us and give us hugs and tell us they loved us is suddenly this unpredictable specter, this looming presence in our lives. Because this isn't at all what you expect when you become a mom, that this is where you'd end up. No one prepared you for this version of parenting, where the person you used to guide and protect now feels like someone you have to carefully navigate.
And if you're really honest, someone whose reaction you're sometimes afraid of. You're afraid of that blow up or the disrespect, and also afraid of saying the wrong thing and making it worse. It's shocking, actually, and also frustrating.
Frustrating that simple conversations feel so hard, and that the things you need to talk about, like school or boundaries, feel like they're impossible to even bring up. You're always wondering, is now a good time? Should I say something or should I wait? Not only do you feel this pressure to try to respect your kids' boundaries, whatever they might be, because they seem to change on a minute-to-minute basis, but you also feel frustrated that you're putting in so much effort, and no matter what you do, it just doesn't seem to be the right thing. The worst part is, often it feels easier to just avoid your big kid altogether.
I talked a few episodes ago about how you can feel relieved when your big kid isn't home. And this week, I want to take this conversation one step further, because this phrase, I feel like I'm walking on eggshells, is something I hear from moms all the time. And it brings up a lot of shame for us.
It's shame that somehow we've let it get this bad, because we look at other families and they don't seem to have these problems. So why do I? It's also shame that we feel like I should be able to handle my own kid. And what does it say about me that I'm afraid of their reaction? And so a lot of us in this situation might turn this shame inward, and assume that there has to be something wrong with us, or wrong with our kid.
And my friend, I want you to know, I've been there, and I know how painful it is. And I also want you to know, truly, how you're not alone in this experience if you sometimes feel, or often feel, like you're walking on eggshells with your kid. When I went through this with one of my sons, it was devastating.
And it wasn't even that my son would blow up at me. In fact, it was more that he was totally cut off from me. And there was this look in his eyes.
Whenever he looked at me, it was like he distrusted me. Actually, it was like he was putting up a huge wall around himself, and trying to warn me to back off. And there was so much I felt like I needed to say at the time.
At first, I had a lot to say about how I didn't like his choices. And when that didn't go over well, I tried to find other ways to say it. And the further my son pulled away and closed himself off, the more I started trying to connect with him about the basic things.
Like the non-negotiables. Like, what about school? What about just being safe? And even those conversations ended up feeling tense and uncomfortable. It's interesting to consider that this experience of walking on eggshells, it doesn't just look like one thing.
In fact, let's talk about what we mean when we say, I feel like I'm walking on eggshells. We tend to use this phrase when we feel like we have to be extremely careful with what we say or do, because we're worried about triggering a reaction in someone else. So it implies this feeling that you have to edit or hold yourself back, because you're anticipating how the other person might respond.
What's interesting to notice is that walking on eggshells isn't really about what's happening in a particular moment. It's about anticipation. It's about the fear of what could happen.
I actually looked up the origins of this phrase, walking on eggshells, and it's been around for a long time. And it's essentially a metaphor that describes navigating something so carefully that you don't break it or cause damage. Somewhere along the way, this phrase became associated with narcissism and emotional abuse.
And so the phrase can feel really loaded, which is why I think experiencing this with our kids can feel even more alarming. But I want to normalize this experience. Because while there can be situations where walking on eggshells is a sign of an unhealthy or unsafe relationship, for most of us moms, it's really about feeling emotionally on edge rather than unsafe.
It's more about not trusting how an interaction will go or not trusting ourselves to handle it if it goes badly. So let's talk about what's driving this feeling. Because when you break it down, walking on eggshells is really about fear.
Even if it's not fear for your safety. But it's also not one single fear. For some moms, the fear is very direct.
You're afraid your teen will get angry and yell at you. I mean, you've already been there, right? You say something and they blow up at you, or they slam the door in your face, or say something rude or argumentative. And often it's also happened when you least expected it over something that didn't seem to warrant that strong a reaction.
And so it seems unpredictable. And remember how I always talk about how our brains want life to be safe, comfortable, and predictable? So when we're worried about our kids' unpredictable reactions, our nervous system actually braces for it as if it's unsafe. So that's why it makes so much sense that you brace for the reaction, thinking, let's be careful here.
We don't want to poke the bear. For other moms, the fear is less about fear of anger and a blow up, and more about fear of distance. You're afraid that if you say the wrong thing, your teen will pull away even more, that they'll shut down or stop talking to you.
You might even be afraid of becoming irrelevant in their life. So you hesitate before reaching out to them. You might even pull back.
As much as you want to connect, you can do the opposite. You might also stay silent on things you might otherwise want to address with your kid. Because in your mind, preserving connection feels more important than addressing the issue.
And for some of us, it's not just the fear that your kid will get angry or that they'll pull away, but both. Essentially, you're afraid of losing the relationship altogether. I think many of us can end up in this place because there are often really important things you need to address with your kid.
You still feel like you need to do your job as a parent. But because the relationship feels fragile, you find yourself stuck in this painful in-between. One day you're thinking, I have to address this.
I can't let this slide. And the next you think, if I bring this up now, it's going to blow everything up. So you find yourself constantly biting your tongue.
Or you say something and then you regret it. But when you stay quiet, you feel anxious and resentful that nothing's being addressed. It's like you ping pong between two fears.
If I say something, I'll make it worse. Or if I don't say something, I'm failing as a parent. My friend, this is exactly where I was four years ago.
And it's heartbreaking and exhausting. But that experience also taught me something really important. When you're stuck in that back and forth between wondering if you should say something or stay quiet, it feels like the problem is your kid.
Essentially a problem with their mood or their reactions or really how unpredictable they are. But what's really happening is that you're carrying this belief that if this goes badly, it's on me. If they get angry, I handled it wrong.
If they shut down, I pushed too hard. Or if they pull away, I'm damaging the relationship. And this is why every conversation feels so heavy.
It's not just about school or responsibilities. It's about us not wanting to mess things up. And the reason this is so exhausting is that now every interaction carries this pressure to get it right, to choose the perfect words or the perfect time.
And the truth is, you can't. You can actually say the words perfectly and they might still react negatively. Or you could say it terribly and they'd get it.
In so many ways, our kids can seem grown up on the outside, at least grown up enough to be rational and approachable. And sometimes they are. And other times, they're totally unpredictable.
Interestingly, this is where two mindset traps can collide. On the one hand, there's personalization. That's the belief that your kid's reaction is about you or something you did wrong.
But when we feel like we're walking on eggshells, this trap is also coming against the illusion of control. The belief that if you just say things the right way or do the right thing, you can control how your big kid responds. When these two mindset traps collide, it creates the perfect storm.
Because now you believe two things at the same time. Their reaction is my responsibility and I should be able to fix or manage it. And so you try.
You think through your approach carefully. Your tone, your words. You try to find the right moment or the right boundary.
And notwithstanding all of that effort, when it still goes badly, you feel defeated. And even more pressure to get it right the next time. So this walking on eggshells feeling is self-reinforcing.
But here's the reality. You don't actually have control over how your teen reacts. You know this intellectually.
But it's amazing how much our hearts don't get the memo. Because everything in you is wired to protect. To help your child feel better and learn how to regulate themselves.
To guide them and nudge them back on track. For decades, that has been our job. And I don't actually think we'll ever stop wanting our kids to be safe, happy, and successful.
It's in our DNA as moms. So anytime you sense that they're struggling or pulling away or making choices that you don't agree with, that instinct to get them on the right track kicks in. But then, because of your kids' reactions, you start to realize that your influence and connection isn't what it used to be.
That you can't just say the thing and have it fix the problem. And that's terrifying. This dynamic isn't really about control.
It's about the fear of being unable to protect or connect with the person you love the most. The essence of walking on eggshells isn't just fearing their reactions. It's feeling like we still have something we need to say.
Or some way we need to get through to our kid. Or even just the need to connect back with them. And we don't want to have to let any of that go.
So we keep trying. Again, not because we want to control our kids. But because we're hoping we can still matter.
And when it feels like we can't, we go from shock to frustration to fear and then to grief. Because what does it mean for us as moms if we no longer have any influence? How can we protect our kid? How can we help them be the best version of themselves? And even more, what does it mean if I really have to let this relationship go? At one point, things with my son were really, really bad. And I'll admit, in the beginning, I didn't handle it well.
I was angry. And I reacted by telling my son what he was doing wrong. And that didn't go well.
I wasn't setting boundaries. I was simply telling him how I thought he needed to be. And it became clear pretty quickly that this strategy was only pushing my son further away.
So my husband actually said something that still sticks with me. He said, we just can't break anything. And what's interesting is that he didn't mean it in the context of walking on eggshells.
He meant it first in the context of being sure we never said anything we couldn't take back. In the heat of the moment, it can be so easy to say things you regret. And as I was learning how to navigate this very new and complicated dynamic with my son, I'll admit, I'm not proud of the way I showed up at times.
So I knew I didn't want to keep repeating that behavior. But I couldn't just stand by and not say anything either. I was truly stuck in that in-between place between saying something and letting it go.
And neither place felt comfortable. As I worked through that situation with my coach, I realized that as much as I told myself I was trying to help my son, what I really wanted was for him to hear me. I wanted him to take in what I was saying and understand my concern.
For once, I would have loved it if he'd said, I hear you, Mom. Don't worry. I understand what you're saying.
But that didn't happen. And the more it didn't happen, the more desperate I felt. Again, not desperate to control him, but desperate to feel like I still had influence in his life.
So I kept trying. And there were so many nights where I laid awake trying to find another way in. If being direct pushed him away, I tried to think of ways to be less direct.
Sometimes I would try to use logic. And sometimes I would just get emotional. I tried to talk about consequences.
Tried to find ways to get him motivated. In the beginning, each failed attempt felt like more evidence that I was losing him. But what I finally started to see was that all of my efforts were focused on trying to get my son to change.
I wanted him to respond differently, to make different choices. And if I'm honest, I wanted him to hear my point of view and agree with me. And the more I needed that response, the more pressure I felt.
And I have no doubt my son could feel that pressure too. It truly wasn't hard to hold myself back from saying something cruel to my son. I was able to control myself in that respect.
But what I started to notice was that our relationship was fragile. Not because either of us were broken, but because both of us were bracing ourselves. Every time I tried to get through to my son, he experienced it as pressure.
And every time he pulled away, I experienced it as loss or failure. And so we were both protecting ourselves, just in different ways. So what changed wasn't me finding better words or timing conversations perfectly.
And it definitely wasn't me letting everything go. What finally changed things in our relationship was how I chose to think about my son during that challenging time. At some point, it dawned on me that I wasn't the only one walking on eggshells.
My son was too. He was trying to figure out who he wanted to be. He was navigating his own challenging relationships and his own complicated feelings about all of it.
He was trying to figure out how to manage the pressure he felt from school and from girlfriends and life, from himself. And at times, whether I meant to be or not, I was a big part of that pressure. The truth was, every time I approached my son needing him to respond a certain way, needing him to reassure me or needing him to take in my concern and agree with me, he felt that pressure.
And if I'm being really honest with myself, to him, it probably felt like one more thing he couldn't get right. One more expectation he wasn't meeting. Another way he was disappointing me.
So as heartbreaking as it is for me to admit, when my son was pulling away, he wasn't rejecting me. He was protecting himself. Just like I was.
And once I saw the truth of this, when I stopped seeing my son as the problem I needed to fix and started seeing him as my beautiful boy who was struggling. And he, in fact, was struggling with so much I couldn't even see then. But even when I recognized a part of it at that time, it not only changed how I saw him, it immediately changed how I showed up to our relationship.
I stopped expecting him to agree with me or to reassure me that everything was going to be okay. I let him have his own reactions without making them mean something about me. I also chose my words, not because I was holding myself back, but because I was realizing that some of the things I really wanted to say were more about my discomfort than about what my son actually needed to hear.
And even if he did need to hear some of those things, repeating them, especially for the fifth time, wasn't helping him. It was just helping me relieve my anxiety. And to be honest, there were also times when I chose to say it anyway.
But in those moments, I also chose to let my son's response be what he felt it needed to be. As I was able to see the truth of both my and my son's experience, even when I didn't know everything my son was going through at the time, I was able to show up as a more calm and steady version of myself. Not because I suddenly had all the answers, but because I wasn't trying so hard to fix or manage my son.
Over time, the impact of me showing up in this way, me becoming a safe space for my son again, where he no longer had to walk on eggshells with me, became the very thing that allowed us to rebuild trust. We didn't have to have some big conversation to do this. We rebuilt our relationship through small, ordinary moments where he could feel that I wasn't trying to push him anymore.
And this truly didn't mean I stopped setting boundaries or having opinions. And it definitely did not mean I stopped being invested in who my son was becoming. But the biggest thing that changed was I stopped carrying responsibility for managing his emotions or his journey.
And that shift, learning how to set down what isn't yours to carry, is exactly the work I do with the moms I coach. In my Mom 2.0 coaching program, we don't focus on fixing your big kid or finding the perfect parenting strategy, because there isn't one. Instead, we focus on you, on helping you understand the thoughts and the fears driving your reactions, so that you can show up from a place of intention and confidence, even when your relationship with your teen feels really hard.
My friend, if there are times when you feel like you're walking on eggshells with your big kid, I see you. I know how painful it feels and how stressful it is to figure out how to show up to the relationship without feeling anxious, frustrated, or hurt. Believe me when I tell you, this doesn't mean your relationship is broken.
It's simply a sign that you're carrying more responsibility than is actually yours, that you've been trying to protect the relationship by managing yourself and your big kid, and this is your invitation to set some of that weight down. My friend, you stop walking on eggshells when you stop bracing for their reaction and start trusting yourself to be the mom you want to be. Until next time.
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.
