By Marie Vakakis
I grew up in a family of worriers.
Not the full-blown panic kind. More of the ‘take a jacket’ or ‘please call when you get home’ kind. My grandparents were so worried about being late, they’d be at the school gate to pick me up before the lunch bell even rang. They even handed out Tim Tams or sweets to my primary school friends. It was caring, yes. But also intense.
Some worry is helpful. Some of it is exhausting. It can feel protective but also claustrophobic. As a family therapist, I see this dynamic play out in lots of relationships, especially between parents and teens.
On my podcast This Complex Life, I spoke with clinical psychologist Dr Lillian Nejad. We explored what worry actually is, how it’s different from anxiety, and what we can do when it starts taking over. This conversation comes up a lot in my work, so it felt like the right time to bring it back.
There’s been a lot going on lately. Big picture things and closer-to-home things. Many of us are stuck in mental loops, thinking about what could happen or rehashing something that already has. If that’s you, you’re definitely not alone.
Worry is a thought, not a feeling
We often say, ‘I feel worried,’ but technically, that’s not quite right. Worry isn’t a feeling, it’s a thinking process. It’s all the ‘what ifs?’ It’s the overthinking. It’s the brain going round and round trying to prepare or prevent or fix.
Anxiety is the feeling. Worry is the thinking that often follows it.
This was something Lillian and I unpacked together. That distinction matters, because once you understand it, you can start to notice when you’re overthinking instead of problem-solving. It also gives you a bit more power to interrupt the pattern.
It serves a purpose, until it doesn’t
We talked a lot about the role worry plays. It exists for a reason. It can be useful. It helps us prepare, plan and think ahead.
But it crosses into unhelpful territory when it starts to take over. When it’s happening all the time. When it stops you from sleeping or concentrating or feeling calm. When it’s about things you can’t control.
The three types of worry
Lillian shared a way of sorting worry into three groups. It’s one of those tools that sounds basic but is actually really powerful.
There are worries you can do something about.
There are worries you cannot control.
Worries that usually sort themselves out anyway.
It helps take the emotion out of it. It gives you a way to respond without spiralling. You can ask yourself, is this something I can act on? Or is it something I need to gently put down?
She also talked about a strategy called worry time. You write your worries down as they come up, then you come back to them later at a set time. That way, you’re not holding everything in your head all day. She’s even built an app to support that called Contain Your Brain. I use it with clients too, and it’s free.
When worry is how we show love
One of the big themes we spoke about was how worry becomes a way people show they care. I hear this all the time in my work with families. ‘I worry because I love them.’ It makes sense, but it can also create problems.
Because here’s what happens. If your worry is loud or intense, other people might shut down. They start to feel like they need to manage your feelings. They don’t want to add to your stress. So they share less. Communicate less. And then you worry more.
I had a young person describe their parents’ reaction to something as a 12 out of 10. That moment changed how much they opened up afterwards. Not because they didn’t love their parents. But because they felt like they had to protect them from the fallout. The parents had no idea, they just kept pushing and poking to try to learn more about their child as a way to ease their anxiety rather than what was helpful for their child.
If you don’t worry, you don’t care?
This one goes deep. For some people, worry has become part of how they express love. If they’re not worrying, they feel like they’re failing.
Care doesn’t have to look like constant worry. In fact, it often doesn’t land that way for the other person. It can feel more like pressure than support. This is something I come back to a lot with parents. If your teen feels like they’re responsible for managing your distress, they will stop coming to you.
So instead of asking, ‘Am I worrying enough?’ maybe the question becomes, ‘Am I caring in a way that feels safe for the other person?’ . Ask yourself, ‘What do they need from me?’ and notice if you’re acting out of your own anxiety and distress.
Worrying differently is a skill
Lillian and I both use Acceptance and Commitment Therapy in our work. One of the things I love about it is that it helps you notice your thoughts without getting tangled up in them.
You can see a worry pop up, and instead of reacting, you can ask, What’s this telling me? Maybe it’s pointing to something you value. Maybe it’s showing you what matters. That gives you information. You can choose how to respond.
You’re not trying to get rid of the worry completely. You’re learning how to live with it differently.
If it’s taking up too much space, there are things you can do
Notice your patterns.
Name the worry.
Ask, is this helpful?
Can I do anything about it?
If not, can I let it go or come back to it later?
If it’s getting in the way of your work, your sleep, your relationships or your peace of mind, you don’t have to just push through. Worry can be managed. There are strategies that work, things you can find on your own or with a therapist. You can care deeply without feeling consumed.
You’re allowed to get support. Not because you’re broken. But because your brain, like everyone else’s, sometimes needs a bit of help sorting through the noise.
Marie Vakakis is a Couple and Family Therapist and an Accredited Mental Health Social worker
