The Antidote to Parental Worry
By Lisa Miller
Ha! If only this were a thing. But you’re here, looking for answers, so let’s see if this is helpful.
First, let’s just acknowledge that most of us are hard-wired to protect our offspring, which has served us well as a species for several millennia. So, it’s not really our fault that we worry (and can’t always control ourselves).
However, when we worry too much, are we helping or hurting our kids?
Here's the uncomfortable truth: our worry often does more harm than good. When we hover, micromanage, and catastrophize, we send our kids a powerful message: I don't trust you to handle this. And kids internalize that message. They start to believe they're fragile, incapable, or constantly on the verge of disaster.
Worry also robs our kids of something essential: the chance to develop resilience. Every time we swoop in to prevent a scraped knee, a failed test, or a friendship conflict, we steal an opportunity for them to learn that they can survive hard things. Resilience isn't built in a vacuum—it's forged through struggle, failure, and recovery. If we always cushion the fall, they never learn how to get back up.
When we share our worries with our children, it can backfire (they don’t welcome our angst). We are often met with anger, hostility, and/or defensiveness. And let's be honest about what worry does to us. It's exhausting. It hijacks our nervous system, keeps us up at night, and strains our relationships. We become so focused on preventing worst-case scenarios that we miss the present moment with our kids—the laughter, the connection, the joy.
So what's the antidote (since we can’t eliminate worrying altogether)? It's learning to distinguish between protective worry and toxic worry, knowing when to step back (this takes practice and a leap of faith), and learning how to intervene without activating your kiddo (which can make you the bad guy and lose the message).
If there were an “antidote” to worry, I think it would include trust and inquiry. I’ve written a lot about the power of inquiry, and it’s a consistent theme in my parenting posts.
Learning to trust your kid is, IMO, a harder skill to master. How do we trust our kids when…well…when they aren’t necessarily trustworthy? This one is still hard for me, and my kids are in their 20s. To be clear (and in case my kids are reading this), they are both incredibly capable, trustworthy individuals. It’s me. I am the one who can’t always muster trust. Because trust is, in part, about giving up control. And I don’t like to give up control. It makes me uncomfortable. That’s the honest truth.
But here’s the thing, we know we can’t (and shouldn’t) control our kids. They get to lead their own lives, make their own mistakes, and learn their own lessons. This is how they build agency. And that’s what we want.
So, concretely, how do we extend trust? Here are some things to try:
Fake it until you make it. Seriously. Often, when our kids see that we trust them (despite some shady behavior), they rise to the challenge. They want to be trustworthy, but they are still figuring out how to get there. When we trust them, it can be just the nudge they needed.
Gradually increase trust. Acknowledge and commend trustworthy behavior. Connect the dots for them–because they acted in a certain way, you want to offer more trust (read: freedom). For example, you might say, “I see that you’ve made it to school on time every day this week on the bus. I appreciate how responsible you are being. I feel comfortable letting you go to that concert with your friends this weekend.”
Ask them how you can support their trustworthiness. Instead of imposing rules or surveillance, have a conversation. Try: "I want to trust you with [staying out later/managing your own homework/having friends over when I'm not home]. What would help you be successful with that? What guardrails do you need?" This shifts the dynamic from you controlling them to you partnering with them. It also puts the responsibility where it belongs—on them. You might be surprised by how thoughtful their answers are. Sometimes kids will ask for more structure than you'd impose because they know themselves and what they need to succeed. And when they co-create the plan, they're far more invested in following through.
Trust is hard, messy, and uncomfortable. It's also one of the most powerful gifts you can give your kid.
Will you still worry? Of course. Extending trust won't eliminate worry—but it might just transform it into something more useful: faith in your kid's ability to figure things out.