Stop Freaking Out
Growing up, I was the “fixer” in my family. My mother dubbed me her “Momma Daughter.” From organizing her bills to helping navigate around traffic jams on road trips, I launched into action when she was panicking behind the wheel, or when I sensed she might be feeling unsure.
When I became a mother, I vowed to never freak out. Instead, I’d embody the same traits I’d exhibited as a child: calm, quiet, stoic. I mean, why wouldn’t I? All grown up, I’d just grow more into myself.
At times, I’ve succeeded. But motherhood, the real life role, stirred myriad insecurities (am I too quiet? Should I babble as I change a diaper?). Being a mother also pushed a strength to a weakness: my need to “fix” things for others can make me impatient, even compulsive—and I overreact.
When I hit midlife, my weaknesses only got worse. As my hormone levels went haywire, my anxieties escalated. Before one international trip, with little time to spare, my whole body started shaking with nervousness. As the minutes ticked by, I worried about what I’d packed, the line starting to back up behind me, and getting through security in time for the flight. To make things worse, I got clumsy, repeatedly dropping our passports and boarding passes while dealing with the desk clerk. I felt like an idiot. Then, I acted in the same flaky, flighty way when I took my boys for their driver’s licenses tests. I freaked out when I didn’t have the right paperwork on hand, and then struggled to sit silently in the back seat as they drove. Navigating my own panic, I fought the urge to jump in and correct them at almost every turn. I didn’t, for the record.
These days, I realize when the panic trait rears its ugly head. And I know enough about brain science to understand what’s happening: it’s my amygdala overwhelming my prefrontal cortex. Credit where credit’s due, that hyperawareness was useful in my role as Momma Daughter. But fight/flight/freeze winning over rationality is both a saving grace and Achilles heel of humanity.
Instead of continually falling into this biological trapdoor, I eventually found a way to interrupt the pattern. Maybe a mantra might help me regain control? One thing to help me stop my nervous system from spiraling out of control. Something I can say everyday. This is what I came up with:
“FU, false urgency!”
Yeah, you see it. Maybe it’s a bit gimmicky. But saying this phrase out loud really works. It immediately stops me in my tracks, makes me laugh and take a breath. It gives my brain a beat to switch from hard-wired reaction to executive function mode. Then I can take control. This self-made mantra helps me frame a situation. No matter how badly I’m fretting, I’m able to acknowledge the worst case scenario is not life-threatening, or ruinous.
In the driving test scenario, the worst that could have happened was to hold up the line a little longer, or reschedule our appointment. At the airport, we could have caught another flight if we missed ours. It would cost some cash. My boys may have been disappointed, even embarrassed. And to that, I say, oh well. Mortifying your kids is the price you pay for being a mother. I tell them often, “I’m not perfect, just trying my best.” It’s a good mutual reminder.
Now that my boys are young adults, I wish I could say I’ve calmed down a bit, but my knee-jerk response to “fix” is still there. So I’m repeating “FU, false urgency” on a regular basis. And I’m okay with that. It’s a great way to calm my nerves, take cognitive control and stop my rising panic in its tracks. After all, I’m the one behind the wheel.
