"I'M NOT OK WHEN MY KID'S NOT OK”—THOUGHTS MOMS PARENTING TEENS AND ADULT KIDS ARE ASHAMED THEY THINK | EP. 274
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.
There's something I've heard in one form or another from so many of the women I've coached over the years. It sounds something like, I don't know how to be okay when my kid isn't okay. They might not use those exact words.
Sometimes they'll tell me that they can't relax until they hear from their college kid. Or that one difficult phone call can completely change the course of their day. Their kid sounds anxious, or disappointed, or lonely, or overwhelmed.
And suddenly the mom feels anxious, disappointed, lonely, and overwhelmed too. Sometimes their kid doesn't even have to say that anything is wrong. They just hear a certain tone in their voice.
They notice that their kid is keeping to themselves more than usual. They just sense that something feels off. And then their minds go into overdrive, trying to figure out what's happening and what they might be able to do about it.
And then there are the moms who tell me they know they need to step back. They know their kid needs the space to work through something on their own. They understand that intellectually.
But emotionally, every part of them wants to jump in, ask more questions, to offer advice. Really, to somehow make the problem, whatever it is, go away. Because when their child feels better, they feel better.
And when their big kid is struggling, it can feel almost impossible to not let it consume their whole day. On the one hand, it makes so much sense that we feel this way as moms. Of course we care about our kids.
And of course their pain affects us. Of course we want to help. But because we don't always know what to do with how deeply we feel and are affected, we start reaching for labels.
Maybe I'm too empathetic, too attached. Maybe I'm emotionally enmeshed. Or maybe I'm codependent on my kids.
Sometimes that language comes from a therapist, or a book you read, or a podcast, something you see online. And language can be useful when it helps us recognize a pattern. But it becomes much less useful when we use it to turn it into a verdict about who we are as a person.
Because most women aren't saying I'm codependent with curiosity. They're really saying it as a self-criticism. What they often mean is I care too much, that I should be better at letting go by now, so there must be something wrong with me.
And now just notice that there are two layers of pain. First, the pain of seeing your kids struggle. And then the judgment we feel for ourselves, for how much that struggle affects us.
So before we diagnose ourselves, I think it's really valuable to understand why this pattern makes so much sense. For years, paying close attention to our kids' emotions was part of our job. When they were upset, they did need you to respond.
And when something fell off with them, it was your responsibility to notice. We have been so tuned in to their needs and emotions from the moment they were born. We've learned to watch their face, listen to their tone, anticipate what they need, and step in when needed.
And that attentiveness really has helped us care for our kids. In so many ways, it's helped you keep your kids safe. But now the circumstances have changed.
Your kid may be 17, or 22, or maybe 30, and their discomfort doesn't always require your intervention in the same way it used to. In fact, their problems aren't actually yours to solve anymore. Because sometimes, truly, the most loving thing you can do is allow them to have an experience that you would never choose for them.
Sometimes it's because they need to learn how to be resilient. Other times, they need to learn from their own mistakes. The challenge is, our emotional habits don't automatically change simply because our child has grown up.
In fact, what often happens is that our kid's need for independence develops long before we can really trust that both they and we can handle the risks of that independence. So all this to say, when your big kid is anxious, and then you feel anxious too, I don't think the most useful conclusion is, something's wrong with me. Because I truly think it makes so much sense that this is how we feel.
The question isn't really whether your child's pain affects you. I think the more useful question is, what happens inside of you when your big kid isn't okay? And what do you believe needs to change before you can be okay again? Here's something interesting to consider. There's a difference between feeling for your child and needing your child to feel differently.
Feeling for your child is empathy. It's that ache you feel when someone you love is hurting. It's wishing you could make things easier for them and caring about what they're going through.
But needing your child to feel differently is something else. That's when your mind says, I can't relax until they're okay. Or I can't enjoy my life while they're struggling.
Really, I need to fix this so that I can finally feel at peace again. And I want to be really clear here. This doesn't mean that your love is selfish.
I'm not saying that you only want your child to feel better for your own sake. But this conversation does suggest that somewhere along the way, our kid's emotional state has become tied to our emotional stability. When they're doing well, you feel relieved.
When they're struggling, you feel like you're struggling too. And then, very understandably, you start trying to change what's happening for them. Not only because you love them, but because you are desperate for some relief from what's happening inside of you.
And this is often why that urge to step in can feel so intense. You can't help but ask more questions and offer advice they didn't ask for. You try to step in and remind them of what they should be doing.
You keep checking in even though they haven't reached out or asked for you to check in. I've had so many moms talk to me about how they go online and start researching solutions and therapists, looking on job websites and trying to find tutors, apartments and doctors. Whatever solution might make the problem go away.
And none of this means you're a bad mom. In fact, most of it comes from a very loving place. But I think it's worth getting curious about what's driving this urgency to solve the problem.
Truly, the question is, am I responding to what my child actually needs from me right now? Or am I responding more to my own need to feel better? And in fact, those two things can look very similar on the outside. In either scenario, you might still research solutions. You might still reach out to your kid again to check in or offer the same advice.
Keep asking questions. But the real difference is the energy that you bring to those situations. When you do these things from a place of calm, grounded love versus the belief that something has to change for your child before you can be okay.
This is a trap I call emotional outsourcing. It's when your peace depends on your child's peace. When your brain tells you, I can only feel settled when they are settled.
Or I can only feel confident when they're making choices I feel good about. And what all of this creates is that we can only feel at peace in our lives when we know our kids are okay. The problem here is not that we care.
It's really that without realizing it, we hand responsibility for our emotional well-being. Something that we cannot control. The truth is we can't control our kids moods.
We can't control whether they're anxious or depressed. We can't control the choices or the mistakes they make as much as we'd like to think that we can. And when your peace depends on changing any of those things, peace is always going to feel just out of reach or at risk of being shattered.
Now, I can imagine that as I say this, there may be a part of you that pushes back. Because what does it even mean to be okay when your kid isn't okay? Are we supposed to just go on with our life while our kid is hurting? Does this mean you're supposed to stop worrying, stop helping, or somehow become less affected by what they're going through? In all honesty, so many moms have come to me feeling so exhausted by the weight of their kid's instability that they will say to me, I truly wish I could stop caring. The truth is that's not actually what they want.
We don't actually want to not care. Being okay when your kid is struggling or when they're making poor choices doesn't mean you approve of what's happening. It doesn't mean you feel happy while your child is struggling.
And it definitely doesn't mean that you don't step in to help when that's what your child needs. But you do have an opportunity to learn how to experience your own concern, sadness, fear, or disappointment without making your child responsible for taking those feelings away. Because this is where we can get confused.
We think the only way to feel better is for our child to feel better. So we try to do everything we can to solve for it. And we look to their moods for signs that they're doing better.
Or we wait for them to make a different choice or sound more hopeful or tell us everything is okay. And until that happens, we put our own emotional well-being on hold. We may be physically going through the motions of our life.
We go to work, we make dinner, we show up for the people around us. But emotionally, we're somewhere else. We're running through worst case scenarios, watching our phones for more information, or constantly turning things over in our minds, looking for solutions or things we can do next.
And I think this is one of the most exhausting parts of parenting big kids. When they were little, we could so often fix it. Do you even realize how powerful and safe that felt? We essentially had the magic wand to take away the pain back then, to protect them and point them in the right direction.
Thinking back, I realize how much easier it was that we could get our way back then. Us doing things to support our kids actually helped. And now, there are so many situations where there may be nothing for us to do.
Your kid may need time to feel disappointed or sad or angry. They may need to make a choice you disagree with or even make a mistake and experience the consequences of it. And then you may need to feel the discomfort of watching all of that happen without rushing in to make the discomfort disappear for either of you.
And that, my friend, is not doing nothing. It's actually a very active practice. It's the practice of allowing your child to have their emotional experience while you learn how to take responsibility for yours.
It means you can say, I hate that they're going through this without adding, and therefore, I cannot be okay. This is where the work we need to do at this stage of motherhood becomes so much more nuanced than just telling yourself you have to let go. Because the goal isn't to become detached from your child, but really to be grounded enough that you can choose intentionally how you want to show up.
So what does this actually look like? Let's say your college kid calls home and tells you that they're miserable. They hate their classes. They're lonely.
They feel like they haven't made any friends. And as you listen, you can feel your whole body tighten, and your mind immediately starts working. You try to make them feel better, maybe encourage them to go see the school counselor.
You tell them they need to give it more time or go join a club, make some friends. You may even think about getting in the car or on the plane to go see them. And none of this is actually wrong.
But just notice if in this moment, as your big kid is having a hard experience, if you are also having a hard experience in response, notice the energy that you're likely to bring to the conversation. You start trying to talk them out of how they feel, not necessarily because that's what they need, but because you need the conversation to end with some reassurance that everything's going to be okay. So you press them to get help or go do something different, rather than simply listening.
You're problem solving. Just consider the difference if you could be in that moment, hearing your child struggle, noticing their pain, and your pain as separate. Of course you hurt when they hurt.
And then in our own minds, we create even more hurt with the worst case scenarios we come up with. The assumption that our kids can't handle their pain or that it's our responsibility to fix it. Maybe thinking about all of the things we did wrong that got us here.
All of this is going on in our minds, creating even more pain for us. And when we learn how to separate that out and manage those emotions, grounding ourselves in the simple reality that all that's happening in this moment is that my big kid is struggling. And maybe all I need to do right now is just be present in this moment.
To listen and to check in to see if there's anything more they need me to do. The truth is, sometimes our kids are going to struggle. They're going to feel disappointed and lonely and sad and anxious and confused and angry.
What if we could simply allow them to have that experience without feeling responsible to solve it for them? Maybe at times they do want your advice. Maybe they do need help thinking through their options. Or maybe they just need a safe space to say, Mom, this is really hard.
It's not that listening is always the right answer or that stepping in is always wrong. But when your actions come from fear and an inability to separate your pain from theirs, you can often let the urgency of your own discomfort decide how you're going to show up for them. And this brings us back to the question I asked at the beginning.
What are you making your child being okay responsible for giving you? Consider that when your big kid appears to be okay, you give yourself the permission to feel safe. Maybe you get to believe their future is going to work out. Or maybe you get to feel confident that you've done a good job as a mom.
Maybe their being okay gives you permission to stop worrying for a minute and focus on your own life. Maybe just breathe a sigh of relief. My friend, when your sense of safety, confidence, or peace depends on your child doing well at all times, then every hard thing they go through starts to feel like a threat to your own emotional stability.
That your loneliness doesn't just mean they're lonely. Your mind can turn it into, what if they never find our people? Their bad decisions don't just mean they made a mistake. They become, what if this ruins their future? And when they struggle, it's not just a moment where they're figuring things out.
It can feel like evidence that you failed them or that you should have done things differently. And when our minds go there, we're not just responding to what's happening. We're responding to everything our minds believe this might mean.
And untangling this involves learning to notice the meaning we layer onto what our kids are going through. What do you make it mean about them or their future? Or about you as a mom? It might be true that your big kid is struggling, but the story that this will never get better or that they can't handle it or that it means you have somehow failed, that part is happening in your mind. And when you can begin to separate out what is actually happening from everything your mind is predicting, you create just a little more room to breathe.
You don't have to convince yourself that everything is fine, but you can begin by recognizing that your kid can be having a hard experience without that experience becoming proof that their whole life is falling apart or that you've done something wrong. And this is the work we do in My Mom 2.0 coaching programs. It's not about not caring or pretending that your child's struggles don't affect you.
It's really learning how to stay grounded in yourself, even when your big kid's life is messy or uncertain. This is how you stop living at the mercy of every text and mood or choice your kid makes. Imagine becoming a mom who can face uncertainty without unraveling, still loving your child, but no longer losing your peace and confidence or yourself.
You can learn more about Mom 2.0 through the link in the show notes. My friend, maybe the question isn't how do I become okay when my kid isn't okay. Maybe the deeper question is can I trust myself to live without knowing how this turns out? Because that is what this stage of motherhood asks of us.
Not certainty, not detachment, but the willingness to love our kids without requiring their lives to unfold in a way that keeps us comfortable. And perhaps that is the real shift. Not believing that everything will be okay, but knowing that whatever happens, you won't lose yourself inside of it.
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.
