Q: How did Ross die? A: Hypervigilance
You know that old saying, “No news is good news”? Yeah, well, whoever came up with that never had 20-something kids out in the world. For me, no news is the exact opposite. No news means something is definitely wrong.
Every silence? Proof they’re slipping deeper into mental illness. Every delay in answering? Clearly drugs. Every time they don’t confirm they’re fine in the last three minutes? They’ve just made a catastrophic life decision.
Living in DEFCON 1
I’m basically living in a Cold War bunker inside my own head. Except instead of watching Russia, I’m tracking my kids. Every minute of the day is a red alert.
Normal parent thought: “They’re probably busy.”
My thought: “They’re probably face down in a ditch, and I should start preparing a statement for the press conference.”
It doesn’t matter if they texted me two hours ago. In my mind, that’s plenty of time for their lives to have completely unraveled.
Coping Skills That Don’t Stand a Chance
- Meditation? I close my eyes and immediately picture the ambulance.
- Mindfulness? Yeah, I’m mindful that silence equals disaster. Thanks.
- Exercise? Great, now my heart rate is high for two reasons and I’ve had thirty minutes to imagine even worse scenarios.
Basically, all the coping tricks experts suggest just give me extra time to imagine new horrors.
The Cruel Joke
Here’s the punchline: I’m the one falling apart. They’re out living their blissful 20-something lives—going to brunch, posting Instagram stories, probably rolling their eyes at my worried texts—while I’m the one who’s going to die first.
Not from old age, not from illness, but from being the unpaid, full-time security guard of their lives.
So What Now?
I don’t have an answer yet. I wish I did. I know I can’t keep going like this forever, but I also know turning it off isn’t as simple as everyone says. For now, all I can do is admit it: I’m exhausted, I’m scared, and I’m trying to laugh at it a little, because otherwise I’ll just cry..and I have done a lot of that. As I type this, I’m doing all I can to finish my work day without having a major panic attack. I’m a freaking mess.
Maybe one day I’ll be able to believe “no news is good news.” But today? No news feels like the loudest, scariest news in the world.