Worry Isn’t Always Care

I’m a worrier.

Depending on who you ask, it can be one of my most annoying tendencies.

Depending who you ask, it’s also a favorite.

Worrying isn’t always care. It just depends.

For example:

A parent who rarely, or never, asks their child how their day was, how they feel, or shows interests in their internal experience…

But constantly checks that they’re physically safe and okay…

This person isn’t always going to be received as a caring parent.

Maybe they’ll be received as intending to be a caring parent, and that’s fair. That’s usually true.

But what the paren’t doesn’t realize is that they’re not actually showing care in a way that would be helpful for the child. What they’re doing is outsourcing their anxiety to their child. Their actions are shouting that they want their anxiety to be cared for, by the child.

The parent thinks they’re supporting, when really they’re asking for support.

You need something more specific?

Let’s say Jane is evacuating Florida for a hurricane. She’s heading up to a hotel in Georgia. Her parents in Connecticut definitely want to know their daughter is safe, and are happy to do everything they can to help. Jane 100% loves this. She feels comforted knowing that she has people who will care and will come looking.

They help her come up with a list of what she needs to take and account for. Now she has to get moving. She shares her location with her parents and tells them she will call them when she makes a stop for gas.

Time to focus on making her way to Georgia.

Her mom repeatedly texts her throughout her drive instead of waiting for her to make the stop. She wants to know how the road conditions are and she’s texting tips and ideas she can think of. Also “are you okay?”

Jane’s Mom’s worry has gone from a show of care, to “hey I’m having anxiety and I need for you to make it calm down.”

While you’re driving.… to escape a hurricane.

Jane should be free to focus on her safety and ask for support if she needs it. But she’s distracted from her safety worrying about her mom’s anxiety and how she’s being tasked to manage it.

Jane wishes her mother would manage her own anxiety right now so she can focus on the road.

I know this example seems kind of extreme and I painted this one for clarity. But I’ve lived something like this multiple times and it shows up in small and large ways.

In romantic relationship, for example, “are you okay?” can be a genuine offer to hold space for your feelings, when asked from a regulated space. But when asked from an anxious space (ie “I don’t feel okay if you’re not okay) it’s the same thing Jane’s mom did.

This energy is felt. And it’s passed down, as generation after generation confuses worry with care.

It’s where I got my own tendency to worry from. I grew up with it. And being on the receiving end of it can, and often enough does, distract you from your own safety and wellbeing because now you’re managing the emotional wellbeing of the person who’s worrying at you.

It took a long time for me to realize that just because I was worrying about someone’s safety and wellbeing, doesn’t mean I was showing care for their safety and wellbeing.

These are two different things.

Care is an act of nurturing.

You can worry for someone’s wellbeing and be careless about their wellbeing at the same time, like Jane’s mom.

Speaking from experience, this is a critical distinction. But a lot of people have a hard time with this one.

And still, I want to make sure I’m clear in case the example didn’t illustrate this well enough, that some worry can also be caring.

Some of my loved ones aren’t bothered by my tendency to worry. They see me as protective. For some people, having someone in their life who feels protective and worries for them can feel healing. Because that experience was rare in childhood, or maybe nonexistent.

If protection wasn’t a type of care you received, it makes sense that worry feels like care to you.

This is a lucky compatibility. But even in taking this into account, I can’t help but notice how else my care shows up.

I ask about their internal experience. I show interest in how they feel and what they have going on in their lives.

I don’t just worry about their safety and outsource my anxiety to them. That’s not the complete picture of how I navigate our emotional dynamic.

I also find myself thinking about how even though I worry a lot, I also am aware of what I’m actually doing. I’m the one needing support in those moments, not them, and that I need to be mindful of how much I ask them to hold.

From “text me when you make it home” to “Hey I’m worried about how you’ve been sounding lately…”

I’m asking them to care about how I feel in those moments. Even if, at the same time, I’m also trying to show care for them. I’m expressing my personal investment in their wellbeing. I’m expressing myself.

But I’m also present in a lot of other ways.

I wonder if it would still feel caring and protective if that weren’t the case. If the only way I showed care, or even the primary way, was worry.

Worry is strong in me, but it’s not the primary way I show care.

A lot of people do this thing I’m talking about, where we confuse worry for care, then wonder why we don’t feel cared for and why we’re not received or seen as caring.

Oftentimes it’s because we’re leaning too much on worry to be the care. And we miss so many opportunities in relationship when we do this.

We miss some beautiful opportunities to ask someone how their day was and simply be present for the story of it - without looking for a problem to fix or a fire to help them put out.

Just witness them. Remember why you like and love this person.

Look for opportunities to notice and acknowledge how they handled something well. Where they won. Where they were accountable to their mistakes and how good that is.

Look for opportunities to just be a girl’s girl and participate in the gossip of it. Let them give you the tea they’re so happy to give. Be an enthusiastic participant and see how they light up to have this moment with you.

Look for opportunities to tell them we’re proud of them, ask if they’re proud of themselves, and cheer them on.

Look for opportunities to remind them they’re capable and they’ve got this - instead of signing up to figure it out for them.

Look for opportunities to get curious for the sake of learning about them. To ask questions simply because you want to know.

Look for opportunities to hold space. To reflect back to them how they’re feeling in a way that humanizes their experience, so they can quit spiraling about it and start moving through it.

And of course, look for opportunities to share their load. Show some practical support.

Look for opportunities to give a gift. Something small that made you think of them.

And yes, in my experience there will be plenty of opportunities to discuss problems and brainstorm solutions.

There will be opportunity to worry about them. But worry isn’t all there is. And worry isn’t always care even when it is the thing that’s taking up the room.

Care is also curiosity.

Care is also empathy and compassion.

Care is also understanding.

Care is also intrigue.

Care is also amusement and engagement.

Care is sharing the load and experience.

Care is also simply being tuned in to what they’re expressing to you.

Care is also giving space and agency when they need it.

And I want to be clear it’s tricky to know the “right” way to care in each moment. Maybe you thought they were asking for help this time, but really they just needed some reassurance that they can handle it.

And sometimes the reverse is true. You had a “you’ve got this” attitude and they’re sitting there like “No. No I don’t. I’m sick of people seeing me as the strong one. I need help sometimes. Worry about me a little bit. Damn.”

We won’t get it right all the time. The point is to keep trying, because the times we do get it right make up for the rest.

Rooting for You,

Tori