How My Own Stress Affected My Child

I never expected my own stress to show up in my daughter, but looking back, it seems almost obvious. For months, I was always rushing to meet work deadlines, snapping at little things, and lying awake at night worrying about what I hadn’t finished. I thought I was hiding it well enough, but then my eight-year-old, Lily, started complaining of stomachaches before school and getting anxious about every little quiz or homework assignment. One night, as I was frantically typing away on my laptop, she came to me in tears, whispering, “What if I fail my math test?” The way her voice cracked sounded exactly like mine earlier that day when I’d panicked over a missed email. That’s when it hit me—my stress wasn’t just mine anymore. I started paying more attention and realized that Lily was copying my anxious habits. I’d say things like, “If I don’t get this done, my boss will be upset,” and then I’d hear her mutter, “If I get a bad grade, my teacher will hate me.” I learned later in therapy that this is called the “stress generation” cycle, where kids pick up on their parents’ anxiety and start to mirror it. I hadn’t meant to pass my worries down to her, but my late-night work sessions and constant fretting were teaching her that the world is something to be anxious about. Therapy was a turning point, not just for Lily, but for me. My therapist encouraged me to start naming my anxiety out loud instead of pretending everything was fine. So, when I felt overwhelmed, I’d tell Lily, “Mommy’s feeling a little stressed right now, so I’m going to take ten minutes to breathe.” At first, it felt awkward, but something amazing happened. Lily began to do the same. If she was upset, she’d say, “I need my calm-down time,” then sit quietly on her bed, breathing or thinking. It was as if she had finally been given permission to be anxious without feeling ashamed, and to take action. We created some new routines at home. We made a “feelings jar” together, where we’d write down how we felt throughout the week—good or bad—and discuss it on Sundays. When I made a mistake, I tried to be honest with Lily, telling her, “Mommy is still learning. It’s fine to make mistakes. I even described therapy to her as a “feelings doctor,” so she understood that it was common for adults to get treatment as well. Sometimes she’d ask if I’d informed my therapist about her soccer game, which made those chats feel secure and usual. What I’ve learnt is that children don’t simply listen to what we say; they also observe what we do. If I act as if stress is something to hide or be ashamed of, Lily will follow suit. But if I show her that it’s okay to have bad days and seek for help, she will develop resilience. I am not flawless. There are still days when I retreat in the toilet for a break, but Lily understands that stress is not to be ashamed of, that asking for help is brave, and that self-care is essential. If you’re reading this and recognizing some of your own habits in your kids, know that you’re not alone. Just try naming one worry out loud or taking a deep breath together. You don’t have to have all the answers—just showing up and being honest is enough. And if you have your own story about how your stress has affected your family, I’d love to hear it. We’re all just figuring this out as we go.