How many of you listen to Glennon Doyle’s podcast, We Can Do Hard Things? If you haven’t listened to it, you should give it a try. It’s fantastic. It’s funny, authentic, and there are some really fascinating concepts and ideas. Doyle is famous for her book, Untamed, as well as her second marriage to soccer star, Abby Wambach. On the podcast, she mostly spends time talking to her sister about things like fun, infidelity, and boundary setting. I highly recommend it.

Anyway, Doyle brought up a concept that pretty much changed my whole life perspective. She said that worry isn’t love. Worry isn’t love? Worry isn’t love! What? How many of us were raised by parents who showed us love by worrying about us? How many of us have walked around with the burden of trying not to worry loved ones, so that maybe they could show us love in other ways?

Worry is easy. It’s safe and it’s societally acceptable. And yet, having others worry about us often feels like a burden that we need to fix. If you are worried about me, then I should do something to mitigate your worry. Thus, I’m taking responsibility for your feelings and you aren’t showing me love. Where is the fun in any of that?

Yet, you say, doesn’t worry demonstrate that someone loves you? Not really! It demonstrates that they care what happens to me because if something bad happens, it will hurt them. Is that love? I’m not so sure. I know it doesn’t feel like love on the receiving side. Worry is about the other person, not you. That doesn’t really feel like a healthy kind of love and that’s exactly what Doyle was talking about when she made her outrageous statement.

If Worry Isn’t Love, Then What Is?

I couldn’t stop thinking about this concept and how I have so often equated worry with love. Then I had to ask myself, if worry isn’t love, then what is love? I kept coming back to the same few things. Love, at least to me, is unconditional listening, being fully present, and holding space for the other person. It’s focusing on them, not what I feel when I’m around them. Love is both giving and receiving of unconditional caring and space. None of that sounds like worry to me.

When thinking of this concept, I thought back to the times that my kids were clearly irritated with me and my worry. Now, it makes so much sense. They wanted me to show them love. Instead, I showed them worry. The worry was about me, not about them or how they were feeling. Now, I’m working on limiting my worry. Or at least how much I project it onto others. I’m focusing on showing love in all of its fragile and scary glory. I’m not even worried that it won’t go well.

Love,

Lisa Kaplin Psy. D. PCC