“ I had been dating a woman I met through an app, and we talked every day before and after meeting for dinner. After that meeting, she stopped replying for about a day, which is unusual for her; I am worried about her and also worried that she may have been disappointed or no longer interested. ”
When I was eighteen, one week before the college entrance exam that would determine what college I could attend, I went to play basketball. I fell and broke my right wrist—the hand I wrote with. The pain in my arm was not what frightened me most. I could only think, “How can I go home and tell my parents?” I was sure they would be disappointed and angry that I had played basketball at such an important time. I did go home and tell them the truth, because there was nothing else I could do. They did not get angry. They felt sorry for me and asked whether I was in pain. They did not mention the exam. I knew they must have felt sad about it, but they did not make me carry that disappointment. I had to prepare for another year, and I took the exam again successfully. My parents never blamed me. They supported me through that whole year, and I felt backed up. That support was an important reason I succeeded. What I learned is that when people love each other, we should trust that love, especially when we are having a bad time. Sometimes we make mistakes, sometimes we are unlucky, and things do not turn out well. But the people who love us may care about our pain before they care about what went wrong. I wanted to hide because I was afraid of blame. Instead, I found that being honest let my parents support me. That is the kind of love I try to trust now.
For the past fifteen months, our high-needs baby has been with us every day—my wife, his mother, and me. We were exhausted. I was working too, and even ordinary things like eating at a restaurant came with pressure: he might yell, speak loudly, or throw food on the floor. Then we started sending him to daycare. He had a good day, and seemed to be okay there. For the first time, my wife and I had a real day to ourselves. We ate at a restaurant, talked, had fun, and did not feel under pressure. There was space to be together again. When we went to pick him up, I was worried he might not be used to being away from us. He cried when he saw us and reached his arms toward me. I hugged him tightly for a few seconds, then he turned to his mother and asked for a hug. After she hugged him, he came back to me. He wanted both of us to be there. I wanted to ask him, “How was your day?” I did not want him to feel bad. If he wanted a hug, we would give him a big one. Afterward, I spent two hours with him. We played, went outside, and took a walk nearby. Usually I was too busy and my day felt broken up by his crying, but this time I had been able to work and live more steadily. At the end of the day, I really wanted to be with him. Everything felt more regulated. He had a good day, my wife and I had a good day, and then we had a good time together. I think a little distance can be important, no matter how much you love someone. My biggest wish now is that he keeps enjoying daycare.
