The Day Hayden Learned About Big Feelings (Famous Kids Story)

Little Hayden pushed open the bedroom door with his tiny hands, expecting to find his big brother Wesley playing with his toy cars or reading one of his chapter books. Instead, he found Wesley sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, his knees pulled up to his chest, breathing in a funny way that made Hayden tilt his head to one side.

"Wesley?" Hayden's small voice filled the quiet room as he toddled closer, his favorite stuffed elephant dragging behind him on the carpet.

Wesley looked up, and Hayden could see that his big brother's eyes looked watery, like when Hayden himself got hurt and was about to cry. But Wesley wasn't bleeding anywhere that Hayden could see, and there were no broken toys scattered around.

"Hey there, little buddy," Wesley said, trying to smile but it looked wobbly, like when Hayden tried to walk on the balance beam at the playground.

Hayden plopped down right next to Wesley, close enough that their shoulders touched. "Why are you sitting on the floor? And why are you breathing like Daddy does after he runs really, really fast?"

Wesley took a deep breath, the kind that made his whole chest go up and down slowly. "Well, Hayden, sometimes big brothers get something called anxiety. It's like having really, really big feelings that feel too big for your body."

"What's an-zi-ety?" Hayden asked, stumbling over the new word and making it sound like "an-zi-ety" with his little tongue.

"Anxiety," Wesley repeated gently, "is when your brain starts thinking about lots of scary things that might happen, even when you're safe. It's like having a storm cloud in your head that makes your heart beat super fast and makes it hard to breathe normally."

Hayden's eyes grew wide. "Do you have a storm cloud in your head right now?"

"Kind of," Wesley nodded. "Sometimes my brain tells me scary stories about things that probably won't even happen. Like maybe I'll fail my math test tomorrow, or maybe Mom and Dad will be upset with me, or maybe something bad will happen to people I love. Even though these things probably won't happen, my body believes the scary stories and gets all worked up."

Hayden reached over and patted Wesley's arm with his chubby little hand. "That sounds really scary. Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt like when you fall and scrape your knee," Wesley explained, "but it feels uncomfortable. My chest gets tight, like someone is squeezing me in a hug that's too tight. My hands get sweaty, and sometimes I feel dizzy or like I might throw up."

"Eww," Hayden giggled a little, then got serious again. "But why does your brain tell you scary stories? That's not very nice."

Wesley smiled a real smile this time. "You know how sometimes you have bad dreams at night? Well, anxiety is kind of like having bad dreams when you're awake. My brain is trying to protect me by thinking about all the things that could go wrong, but sometimes it gets a little too excited about protecting me."

Hayden nodded solemnly, as if this made perfect sense to his three-year-old mind. "So what do you do when the storm cloud comes?"

"Well," Wesley said, shifting to face his little brother more directly, "I do some special things that help the storm cloud go away. Want me to show you?"

"Yes, please!" Hayden clapped his hands together.

"First, I do special breathing. Watch me." Wesley placed one hand on his chest and one on his belly. "I breathe in really slowly through my nose, like I'm smelling Mom's cookies in the oven." He demonstrated, making his belly rise. "Then I breathe out slowly through my mouth, like I'm blowing out birthday candles." His belly fell as he exhaled.

Hayden tried to copy him, placing his tiny hands on his own chest and tummy. "Like this?"

"Perfect! You're such a good helper," Wesley praised. "When I breathe like this, it tells my body that everything is okay and it doesn't need to be scared anymore."

"What else do you do?" Hayden asked, still practicing his breathing.

"Sometimes I count things I can see around me. Like right now, I can see one blue pillow on my bed, two books on my nightstand, three toy cars on my shelf, four crayons on my desk, and five pictures on my wall. Counting helps my brain focus on real things instead of the scary stories."

Hayden looked around the room excitedly. "I see... um... one elephant!" He held up his stuffed animal. "And one Wesley! And one me!"

Wesley laughed, and the sound was lighter now, not heavy like before. "That's exactly right! You're really good at this."

"Can I help you when you have anxiety?" Hayden asked, scooting even closer to his brother.

"You know what? You already are helping me," Wesley said, wrapping an arm around his little brother. "Just by sitting here with me and asking questions and being kind. Sometimes when I have anxiety, I feel really alone, like I'm the only person in the whole world who feels this way. But when you're here with me, I remember that I'm not alone."

Hayden beamed with pride. "I'm a good helper!"

"The best helper," Wesley agreed. "And you know what else? Having anxiety doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me. Lots and lots of people have anxiety sometimes. Even some kids your age get worried about things. It's just one of those feelings that people have, like being happy or sad or excited."

"Like when I get scared of the dark?" Hayden asked.

"Exactly like that! Remember how we got you that special nightlight, and now the dark isn't so scary? Well, I'm learning special ways to make anxiety less scary too. I talk to Mom and Dad about it, and sometimes I talk to a special helper called a counselor who teaches me even more ways to feel better."

Hayden nodded thoughtfully. "And you can always talk to me too! I'm a really good listener. Mommy says so."

"You absolutely are," Wesley said, giving Hayden a gentle squeeze. "And if you ever have big feelings that feel too big, you can always talk to me too. That's what big brothers are for."

"Will the storm cloud come back?" Hayden asked, looking a little worried.

"It might," Wesley said honestly, "but now I know what to do when it does. And now you know too, so you can help me remember my special breathing and counting if I forget."

Hayden stood up suddenly and ran to his brother's bookshelf, returning with a small stuffed bear. "Here," he said, pressing it into Wesley's hands. "This is Mr. Snuggles. He's really good at making people feel better. You can borrow him when you have anxiety."

Wesley's eyes got a little watery again, but this time it was because he felt so much love for his little brother. "Thank you, Hayden. Mr. Snuggles is perfect."

"Are you feeling better now?" Hayden asked, climbing onto Wesley's lap.

Wesley took a moment to check in with himself. His breathing was normal again, his heart wasn't racing, and the tight feeling in his chest had melted away. "You know what? I am feeling much better. The storm cloud is gone for now."

"Good!" Hayden declared. "Now can we play cars? I want to show you how I can make the red one go really, really fast!"

Wesley laughed and stood up, lifting Hayden with him. "That sounds like the perfect thing to do right now."

As they settled down on the carpet with the toy cars, Hayden looked up at his big brother with his bright, curious eyes. "Wesley? I love you even when you have storm clouds."

"I love you too, little buddy," Wesley replied, his heart feeling full and warm. "Even when I have storm clouds, and especially when you help chase them away."

And as they played together, making car noises and building imaginary roads, Wesley realized that sometimes the best medicine for anxiety wasn't just breathing exercises or counting objects – sometimes it was the simple, pure love of a little brother who saw him exactly as he was and loved him anyway.

From that day forward, whenever Wesley felt the familiar tightness in his chest that meant anxiety was visiting, he would remember Hayden's small hand patting his arm and his earnest little voice saying, "I love you even when you have storm clouds." And somehow, that memory made every storm cloud a little easier to weather.