Part 3: Parenting Stress, Even When They’re Grown

Love and worry seem to be tied together when it comes to parenting.

Even when our children are adults and we’ve technically “finished” raising them, that doesn’t mean we stop worrying. Whether your child is in diapers or raising children of their own, there’s always a voice in the back of your head asking:

“Are they okay? Is there anything else I can do?”

Even if they’re thriving, that low hum of concern is always there. And if they’re struggling? That hum becomes a roar. You start blaming yourself, maybe you didn’t teach them enough. You blame them for not listening to what you tried to teach. And you definitely blame the world for undoing all the values you tried so hard to instill.

You want more for them. They want more, too. But the way things are going, and in this economy, it’s hard to be hopeful. And it’s even harder to let go.

The Worry That Never Sleeps

When you are up at night worrying about your children, you feel a little silly, a little guilt, and a little pressure to do something more. This kind of stress doesn’t just live in your mind. It lives in your body.

You toss and turn at night, worrying about your daughter’s choices, your son’s health, your grandbaby’s safety. You try not to interfere, but you want to help. You want to protect them from what they don’t see coming. But you also don’t want to push them away. So instead of saying what’s on your heart, you swallow it and carry it to bed.

How do you feel when this happens? What’s it called when you can’t figure out what to do or if there is anything you can do? Confusion? Powerlessness? Helplessness? It has so many names. It breaks down your sleep. It wears out your nervous system. It shows up as fatigue, high blood pressure, headaches, tight shoulders, a knotted stomach, and a racing mind that won’t let you rest.

The Invisible Labor of Black Parenting in a White Man’s World

Black parents, especially single parents or grandparents, are carrying more than most people realize.

We carry not just love for our children, but the fear that the world might not love them the same way we do. That the world might not see their greatness or might hold them accountable for the ignorance the media spreads about them. We carry the “what ifs”:

What if my son gets pulled over?

What if my daughter’s car breaks down in the wrong neighborhood?

What if my grandchildren never learn the values of money because we’ve spoiled them?

Some of us are also carrying regrets over things we didn’t know, or couldn’t afford, or didn’t have the emotional tools to handle back then. Many of us were raising children while we were still healing from our own trauma. And now that we know better, we want to go back and fix what we couldn’t see before.

But we can’t.

That doesn’t mean we failed. It means we’re human. And it means now, right now, is the time to make peace with what was so you can protect your peace going forward.

You Can’t Control Everything, and That’s the Point

There’s only one thing you control and it’s not your children. Especially not your grown children. And you can’t control your grandchildren either.

And you’re not supposed to.

You can’t make them take better care of themselves. You can’t make them parent the way you parented, or the way you wish you had. You can’t stop them from learning hard lessons. And you definitely can’t force them to receive wisdom they aren’t ready for.

But you can control your response.

You can remain peaceful.

You can shift from overfunctioning in their lives to functioning fully in your own.

That doesn’t mean you stop caring. It means you start caring for yourself first.

Rest Is Not Selfish. It’s Survival.

I know what you’ve been taught. That putting yourself first is selfish. That good mothers, good grandmothers, good Black women sacrifice everything, including their health, sanity, and peace, and they have for generations. But we can break that pattern.

Here’s what I want you to hear: the very best thing you can do for your family is show them what self-care looks like.

Let them see you:

Going to bed at a decent hour and sleeping through the night.

Saying no without guilt.

Drinking your water, getting your walk in, and taking your supplements.

Laughing often.

Living and experiencing new things (even if you are afraid).

You’ve earned that.

And if it feels hard to let go of that urge to fix everything? That’s normal. But it’s also a sign that it’s time to practice a new kind of control, the kind that starts with surrender.

Take Back Control, by Letting Go

That’s why I created the Control the Controllable meditation series. It’s a 10-day, step-by-step guide to help you release what you can’t control and reclaim what you can.

If parenting stress (even from a distance) is wearing you down, this is for you. It’s gentle, it’s honest, and it’s yours to do on your time, in your way. And for as long as you like, because you have lifetime access to it.

Use this [link] to get $20 off today. The coupon is good for a few more days. Don’t wait. I told you about it last week but you might have missed it. Give yourself permission to feel lighter, because you've been carrying everybody’s burdens.

You Are Not Alone

In my therapy practice I work with affluent women who struggle to manage mental health and money so I’ve spent the last 20 years researching. I’ve found that “what’s keeping you up at night” is pretty common. You are not the only one feeling it, although it feels like it. There are thousands of other parents and grandparents just like you, trying their best to love, guide, and let go all at the same time.

Let this be the moment you put yourself first. Not out of desperation. But out of love.

Because when you start honoring your own needs, everything else starts to shift.

One of the hardest parts of parenting stress, especially in our community, is feeling like you can’t talk about it. Like no one understands how heavy it gets, how tired you are, or how much of yourself you’ve poured into your children and grandchildren. Start thinking about what you’d like someone else to know. What you’d like to get off your chest. What burdens you’d like to lay down. There could be someone you could talk to about it, if you feel you need that.

And that leads us to something we don’t talk about nearly enough…

Next week in Part 4: Loneliness, Even in a Full House, I’ll address the quiet ache of feeling isolated and misunderstood while still being surrounded by people you should connect with—family. We’ll also address why we stop sharing, why we feel invisible, and how to create connections without waiting for someone else to notice what you need.

Because silence is heavy. And you deserve to be heard.

Part 1, Part 2