As a preschooler, people would always comment about how caring and concerned with others my daughter was. She was constantly praised and applauded for her care, for how well she shared, waited her turn and and never got angry with anyone. At first, we (naively) prided ourselves for raising her to be so well behaved and kind, as if we were some sort of parenting rockstars. As she got older, there began to be signs that there was more going on than just an expertly raised child. By second grade she was laying in bed night after night for hours, unable to stop the spin of worries for other people, what did they think or feel, did they like her or not, did she upset someone that day, how can she get through the day without hurting anyones feelings. The thought of navigating the next school day sent her into a panic. Some nights she would pass out from sheer exhaustion at 1am, and other nights the worries would become so enormous that she would be physically ill.

My husband was the first one brave enough to say it out loud, maybe it was time to take her to a therapist. I was floored by his ludicrous suggestion, I was her mother I knew how to take care of her, she did not need to talk to a stranger, he was insane for suggesting it. What would that look like for her? Would it make her feel weird or broken or sick? My husband felt very strongly about it, as he suffered from pretty debilitating anxiety, but when I looked at him and her they were so different there was no way she had anxiety. But the more I watched what she was going through, the more I realized I could not relate to her, I was in over my head, I did not know how to fix her.

She began therapy, and so did I. I needed to face the insecurity that I did not know how to help my baby, and she needed to learn how manage her worries and cope with the overwhelming feelings she has. Between my therapist and hers, we began a pretty in depth education on anxiety, what it is and what it isn’t, what to say and how to react, when to engage and disengage. At first it felt like every single thing I was doing intuitively was dead wrong, the very first one being the phrase, “don’t be silly.” I had never considered the gravity of what that statement communicates to a very scared, very anxious 9 year old. When I finally thought it through my heart sank, how could I essentially tell her that she is silly for how she feels, that something is wrong with her, that she’s the odd one out who thinks that way. No wonder she was making herself sick! Here I was thinking I was doing everything right by my kids and I was constantly putting her down, without even realizing it.

So I began to examine all of the things we as adults tell children when they seek our support and validation, and I have found some things we all could be doing better to reinforce how enough they are.

1. Validate

span class="Apple-converted-space"> When your child comes to you with things that worry them, it is absolutely vital to let them know their feelings are okay, even if you do not agree with them. What this does is assure them that they are safe to talk to you, they are not alone or weird or stupid. Sometimes it is hard because the content of their concerns may seem trivial, but I assure you it is not trivial to them it is in fact very very real. Their worlds are so small, little things are magnified and compounded in their anxious minds.

2. Guide, never judge.

Once you have given them assurance that they're okay, you begin to tiptoe through the maze of guiding them to think about what they’re worried about and decide for themselves what worries are real and what worries are not. It is way too often the opposite when we speak to children, as fixers we rush to decide for them what is worthy of their concern. But in fact learning how to sort through that on their own is a vital life skill for every man, woman and child on this planet, not just the anxious ones.

3. Bring them into the present

span class="Apple-converted-space"> But the thing is this, you cannot fix it no matter how hard you try or how wonderful you are, this is in them. The only option is learn how to be a source of unwavering support while they learn how to manage it. With my daughter there is usually something that starts the spin, as it progresses the fears get bigger and bigger and spiral out of control leaving her desperate for me to make promises that I could never possibly fulfill. There is a lot of, “promise me you will never die,” obviously, as much as I wish I could, I cannot in good faith promise her that. This is where you need to try to divert them into the present and focus on enjoying life as it is right now because the future is not in our control.

4. Focus on the good.

In the moments when she falls deep into despair and hopelessness, we have had a lot of success by making her write down three things she was grateful for that day. She keeps them in a jar so we can go back and remember that no matter how scary things feel there is always good to be found. This is a practice I believe everyone could benefit from, anxious or not. It is so easy to fall into the trap of focusing on lack, on hurt and fear; but there is usually something good in every single day. Sometimes it is getting a sweet parking spot, or unexpected praise from a teacher or boss, and on tough days it might be curling up with a good movie and a soft blanket. Either way, the more you notice the good the better you feel. For people with anxiety in particular, writing it down is very helpful because when they get to a place where they feel like everything is wrong it is hard for them to recall the many rights.

A big one for me was that there is no shame in asking for help, that there is always something you can learn to do better and its important to be grateful for all the amazing things around you. But by far the biggest takeaway is that the words and reactions we give to our children are more important than the clothes we buy them, than the playdates we set up, than the homework we prioritize. Just listen closely to what they are actually asking, the real need isn’t always on the surface, sometimes its a plea for validation, for you to affirm that they are normal, that things will be okay and that they have your support when they need it. I look at the tremendous progress my daughter is making, she is learning to embrace her uniqueness and to see her extreme empathy as a superpower in making other people feel comfortable to be themselves. I know that there will be peaks and valleys and that her anxiety will never fully go away, but I am finally prepared to be a light in the darkness for her, forever willing to remind her how perfectly wonderful and enough that she is.