Do Not Be Anxious About Anything

When I was a child, I struggled with being scared of the unknown. Perhaps you can relate. All too often, I was prevented from pursuing experiences because of this perpetual angst about things beyond my control or comprehension.

When you’re a father, you want your child to become a somewhat better version of yourself, and what I want for my son is for him to never waste a minute of his life on my old fears. In Dune, by Frank Herbert, they say, “Fear is the mind-killer,” and it’s true. It’s like living life with literal tunnel vision, only able to see what is right in front of you. Blocking out all the rest so as not to disrupt your current plans.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus – Philippians 4:6-7

Verbalizing confidence toward my son is, of course, easier said than done, but even just talking about it isn’t as impactful as living fearlessly, modeling it for him in my actions. 

In 2016, I started traveling internationally at least once a year and would come back with stories to tell my son about a part of the world he’d only seen on television or the internet.

We would bond over watching Chelsea football games on television, but I could tell it meant even more to him when I pointed at the screen where I’d sat in the stadium when I watched them play in person while traveling to London.

I trained my son to not be ruled by his fear. He even went a few years considering a move to Japan to pursue becoming an artist. Most parents would low-key panic at the idea of sending their child across the world by themselves to achieve a long-shot career; I encouraged it.

By the time he turned 16, his desire to chase a dream in Japan disappeared, but it wasn’t because fear had stolen it from him.

In November of 2023, a month after his 18^th birthday, my son traveled with me to London for a conference and then hopped the English Channel to Madrid to visit friends of mine.

While in London, I had to attend the conference, so I gave him the direction to explore the city by himself for the entire day. I let him know that if he needed me for anything, he could call and I’d drop everything to come get him.  

He never called.

That evening, my boy was filled with stories of his adventures throughout London, ranging from the mundane to the wild. He had navigated a foreign land, on his own. The moments of cultural confusion, or getting slightly lost, were glossed over as just one part of an unforgettable experience of his own.

I put my son in a position to feel moderate discomfort, forcing him to trust his instincts and solve problems instead of being reliant on me to rescue him.

He’s about to turn 19. It’s been one full year as an adult, and I’m incredibly proud of how he’s managed the changes in his life and persevered through all that life has thrown in his path.

Sometimes we wish that our toddlers could be that way forever. They are precious and need us in the most fundamental ways. But I was always excited about his teenage years, so I could give my boy the advice that I never received from my father, due to his absence. 

Are you preparing your child for the harshness of the world by making them confident enough to resist the traps of victimhood? These traps are set all around them. 

One thing I wasn’t prepared for in giving my son the gift of independence was my son’s present absence. He’s living his own life, working and carving out his path, and when that happens… parents like me get left behind. 

Parents… we watch from afar and cheer them on when we know of their triumphs. We cry when we hear secondhand of their defeats. We worry most when we hear nothing at all. 

The byproduct of successfully instilling confidence in my son, the confidence that leads one to believe they could conquer the world, is that he doesn’t need me as much to accomplish it.

This new experience of being simultaneously happy and sad for something that I spent years advocating for is an overwhelming and confusing feeling that people don’t warn you about.

Missing my son has made me understand my mother’s perspective, and why she would so often ask me when was the next time I’d be coming to visit her. I used to see my mother every few years, and now I’ve flown to see my mother twice in less than two months.

I know that my job as a father isn’t completely over, and he knows as long as I’m alive, he can come to me for advice. I still miss him though, and I always will. 

Adam B. Coleman is an author and founder of Wrong Speak Publishing. He writes on Substack at Speaking Wrong At The Right Time.