My Need for You Begins Where Your Need for Me Ends.

You never truly know when someone will need you. When they do, they arrive with urgency and intention. Somehow, they find the time, the money, and the energy to sit beside you. They share their stories, their struggles, even fragments of their joy. In those moments, their presence feels genuine, almost sacred. You become part of their solution, their comfort, their strength.

But once their season of need passes, so do they.

They leave quietly. No announcement. No explanation. One day you look around and realize they are gone—so far gone that even their shadow no longer falls near you. The space they once filled becomes an echo.

When they first came into my life, I was not in love with them. I was simply present. I listened. I helped. I gave what I could. Yet as days passed and conversations deepened, something within me shifted. Affection grew. Care took root. I began to value their presence, not because they needed me, but because I had grown to need them.

And just when I discovered that longing, they disappeared.

Their need for me had been fulfilled. Their chapter with me had ended. But mine with them had just begun. That is the quiet cruelty of one-sided attachment: by the time your heart awakens, theirs has already moved on.

So what about my feelings?

Now I find myself standing in the same place they once stood—needing them the way they once needed me. But they are nowhere to be found. The imbalance stings. It teaches.

It teaches self-sufficiency.

People come. People go. This is not bitterness; it is truth. When they come, welcome them. Offer warmth without suspicion. When they go, let them leave without resistance. Do not chase shadows. Do not beg for echoes to return as voices.

Be who you are, independent of who stays.

Give love freely, but do not demand its return. Offer food without keeping count. Extend money without engraving your generosity into memory as a debt. Help without rehearsing the help in future arguments. The purest giving expects nothing back.

When you live this way, something remarkable happens. You begin to rely less on the fragile loyalty of others and more on your own steady presence. You learn to love yourself—not in arrogance, but in quiet assurance. You become your own constant.

What is meant for you will remain. What is not meant for you will slip away, no matter how tightly you try to hold it. You could bind it in chains to the legs of your bed, and still it would find a way to leave. Some connections are temporary by design. Some people are lessons disguised as companions.

But still, a question lingers—especially for those who left.

You came to me because you needed me. You built a bridge into my world. You created a space inside me where you once stood. Now that I have grown accustomed to your presence, now that I have developed my own longing—where are you?

Perhaps the answer is this: they were never meant to stay. And perhaps the deeper lesson is not about them at all—but about becoming whole, even in their absence

Helping Is Fine, But Only Within Your Means

I think I did the right thing:

For three years, I became an emotional support system in a volatile marriage. The story kept shifting, the conflict kept returning, and I was pulled into a private marital battle. That is unhealthy for me and inappropriate professionally. I advised her to seek legal and psychological experts which was responsible. Continuing communication with her would blur boundaries and expose me to risk (emotional, reputational, even legal).

Blocking her communication completely was a boundary, not cruelty. I am not her counsellor, lawyer, or rescuer. Protecting my peace is not selfish — it is wise.

The Parent’s Lasting Influence: A Guide for Mothers and Fathers Who Want to Raise Grounded, Capable and Compassionate Adults

For parents who want stronger relationships with their children and a clearer path to raising responsible, confident adults—here’s what you will take away: a deeper understanding of your role, practical ways to shape character, and evidence-based insight into why your presence matters more than any school or screen.

My reflection beautifully emphasises the sacred duty of parenting and the moral responsibility of shaping children’s character and intellect beyond what schools or media provide. It highlights that parents are lifelong teachers whose influence lasts far beyond childhood. You and I both know that no institution can truly replace the wisdom, presence and lived experience of a parent who cares enough to guide their child every day. The journey of raising children is not simply about feeding them, clothing them or sending them to school; it is about shaping their entire way of thinking so that the adults they eventually become are confident, ethical, resilient and capable of contributing positively to the world. Studies consistently show that parental involvement has a significant influence on children’s long-term outcomes, often outweighing income, schooling or social status (Desforges and Abouchaar, 2003, research report). What you pour into your child’s early years becomes the framework for how they handle adulthood.

Who are your children? They are, in many ways, the reflections of everything you sow during their formative years. What you teach in their childhood is what they naturally carry into adulthood. If you trust the schools, the society and the endless noise of modern media to shape every aspect of your child’s learning, you may be dismayed by the adults they eventually become. This is not to discredit education systems, but to acknowledge a simple truth backed by decades of developmental research: children learn their deepest values, worldviews and behavioural patterns from the people they spend the most emotional time with (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, book). Schools teach facts; parents teach identity.

Your children shouldn’t be products of confusion or distortion. Today’s media world is built on interpretation rather than truth, and negativity is amplified because it sells faster and spreads wider than honesty. This isn’t an opinion—it’s a documented phenomenon in media research, which shows that negative headlines get significantly more engagement than positive ones because the human brain is wired to respond to threats (Soroka, 2014, academic journal). For likes, subscriptions and follows, people online use every psychological tactic in the book: sensationalism, exaggeration, emotional marketing and manipulative phrasing. A single negative word in a headline often attracts more visitors than a headline that simply reflects the truth. If this is the environment shaping your child’s mind without your guidance, then the child learns to value noise over wisdom.

Let your children grow in good faith. Teach them what you know. You have lived in the world long enough to understand and process the information you have gathered. Much of what sits in your mind today is filtered, analysed and shaped by real experiences. That makes you a far more reliable teacher than any trend, influencer or algorithm. The responsibility is not to teach your child everything, but to teach them the right things. In this order, ask yourself honestly: how much time did you spend with your children last week? When was the last time you sat with them and shared something truly useful for their adulthood? A tree is known by its fruit, and in the same way, children reveal the quality of their upbringing. When they grow into good, responsible and kind adults, they become a badge of honour worn proudly on your chest.

If your children learn their most meaningful lessons from you—lessons that shape their values, character and judgement—you will always remain their hero. A strong parent-child bond built on trust, knowledge and companionship makes old-age homes unnecessary. The rise of old-age homes in many societies quietly reveals how emotionally distant many families have become. It exposes a truth many avoid: that parents often had fewer meaningful conversations with their children during the years when those conversations mattered most. When children do not receive emotional closeness, guidance and moral grounding from home, they grow into adults who feel detached from their parents.

Every parent wants their child to be independent, smart and more capable than themselves. But how many parents truly invest the time to make this a reality? Your ignorance today becomes tomorrow’s threat—not only to you, but to the society your child will eventually belong to. What cannot be shaped when young cannot easily be shaped when mature. This is not about domination; it is about flexibility, teachability and character development. A child learns values quickly, and once those values become fixed, change becomes difficult.

Share the knowledge you have found useful. Make your children good listeners, not by force but by connection. Do not bore them with endless stories about your own achievements or accomplishments. Start small. Ask thoughtful questions. Share short stories and simple experiences. Build conversations at the corners of everyday life. Your goal is not to control your children or lecture them endlessly; it is to build a genuine and meaningful rapport. Let them enjoy your company first. Make them laugh. Show them warmth, humour and approachability. Let them speak freely. Allow your shoulder to become the most trustable and comfortable place on the planet, a safe place for them to rest and share their feelings. Be their friend long before you become their instructor.

And then teach them—slowly, consistently, patiently. Teach them not hatred, not fanaticism, not the prejudices of the world, but the essential skills that create successful adults. Teach them how to speak to people. Teach them how to get things done without aggression or fear. Teach them teamwork, delegation, contribution, empathy, self-discipline and social responsibility. Teach them to love their siblings, support their friends and care for their environment. Teach them how to respect their body, mind and boundaries. Teach them resilience—the ability to get up and walk again after falling. Teach them how to search for information, how to evaluate sources, how to verify facts using tools like Google and Wikipedia responsibly.

Show them real examples. Take them to community centres, hospitals, jails and other places where they can see the consequences of behaviour, the struggles of the less privileged and the importance of making wise choices. Teach them about money—not just how to earn it, but how to save it, manage it and use it with integrity. These are life skills teachers rarely have time to cover because they are racing through syllabuses, preparing students for exams, deadlines and academic evaluations. Teachers are often unintentionally positioned as examiners, not life-guides. You remain the real teacher, and if you neglect this responsibility, no one else will step in to teach your children the difference between good and bad in a meaningful, consistent way.

When your children grow into adults and begin encountering the real world, they will carry your voice in their minds. In their struggles, decisions, relationships and achievements, they will feel your influence shaping their thoughts. That is when they truly understand that you are their hero. That is the moment you get repaid for all the time, patience and love you invested. It is not money, nor gifts, nor social praise that returns to you—it is the quiet, powerful pride of knowing you helped create a good human being. And that is one of the greatest achievements any parent can ever claim.

References

Bronfenbrenner, U. (1979) The Ecology of Human Development. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. (Book)

Desforges, C. and Abouchaar, A. (2003) The Impact of Parental Involvement, Parental Support and Family Education on Pupil Achievement and Adjustment. Nottingham: DfES. (Research report)

Soroka, S. (2014) ‘Negativity in democratic politics: causes and consequences’, Journal of Media Psychology, 26(1), pp. 27–38. (Academic journal)

The Hidden Lines Between Normal and Abnormal

A reflective guide for readers who want to understand how society shapes ideas of normality, morality, and addiction—and what you can gain by questioning those ideas.

What is normal and what is abnormal? Everything began with fear. Thousands of years ago, humans had no concept of what was normal or abnormal, nor did they have the frameworks of psychology, medicine, or behavioural science that we rely on today. What we now call “normality” grew out of collective habits, shared fears, and survival instincts. Medical science depends heavily on these terms, using them as reference points for diagnosis, treatment, and intervention. Over time, institutions connected to health and medicine have developed systems that classify people according to these definitions, often reinforcing a cycle where individuals stay dependent on medical interpretations and the industries built around them. Scholars argue that medicalisation, turning ordinary human experiences into medical issues, has expanded dramatically in the last century, shaping how societies think about behaviour, health, and deviance (Conrad, 2007).

In some countries, killing a deer is a crime, while killing and eating a goat is perfectly legal. One act is condemned, another accepted, even though both involve taking a life. There is usually no punishment for killing a goat in most places, yet killing a protected species can lead to fines or imprisonment. So, why is killing certain animals illegal? Who decided which animals deserve protection and which do not? Cultural anthropologists have long noted that human societies create moral rules based on ecological needs, religious values, and economic priorities (Douglas, 1966). But most of us rarely stop to question how these rules came to be or why they differ so drastically across borders.

Euthanasia, or mercy killing, is accepted in some countries but banned in many others. Even doctors, who dedicate their lives to reducing suffering, are not legally allowed to end it in most parts of the world. The laws around it emerge from a mix of religious beliefs, political pressures, and historical norms. Some countries accept the practice as an expression of human dignity and autonomy, while others see it as crossing an ethical boundary that must remain intact (Quill & Battin, 2004). But when we ask where these laws truly came from, we see the same pattern: rules created by humans out of fear; fear of death, fear of misuse, fear of moral collapse, or simply fear of change.

Weak humans created laws to protect themselves from the stronger ones. In the wild, there is no law and order. Nature does not divide actions into right or wrong. The famous saying “Everything is fair in love and war” captures the instinctive reality that nature operates on survival, not moral judgment. Philosophers such as Hobbes believed early humans lived in what he called a “state of nature”, where life was “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short”, and laws were invented to prevent mutual destruction (Hobbes, 1651). Whether or not life was truly that brutal, one thing is certain: humans created rules long before governments existed, mostly as a way to protect themselves.

If killing is wrong, then why were bulls born with horns? Why do scorpions have stings and snakes have venom? Nature itself does not seem to be against killing. Predators and prey form a cycle that has existed for millions of years. You might say humans don’t have venom or claws, and you’re right. But humans were born with something far more powerful: the brain. That brain gave us tools, strategies, and technologies. As archaeological research shows, early humans used stones, sticks, and traps to survive against stronger animals and rival tribes (Lewin & Foley, 2004).

In ancient times, humans killed each other for possessions; wives, children, cattle, gold, and other valuables. Archaeological evidence from early settlements suggests violence was common, driven by food scarcity, competition, and the absence of structured communities (Keeley, 1996). To protect themselves from stronger men, the weaker ones began hiding in caves and holes. When the powerful invaded their shelters, they built walls and doors. When that wasn’t enough, they added locks and gates. As the strong kept breaking in, the weak hired guards. When even that failed, they made laws and formed communities. That is how civilization and social order were born; from fear, from the desire to survive, and from the need to create boundaries around behaviour.

Then comes the word addiction.

There are many kinds of addiction. I, for example, am addicted to writing. I can sit with my blog and laptop for hours, pouring my thoughts into words. After a few days or months, I delete everything. Then, after a short break, I start writing again about something new. That too is a kind of addiction. But it is harmless. It does not destroy my life or threaten my health. It simply reflects a repetitive behaviour driven by interest and passion.

When we hear the word addiction, most people think of smoking, drinking, using mobile phones, or sex. The very idea of what is considered “normal” has created the word addiction. In ancient times, thousands of years ago, there was no such word. Not because humans did not experience addiction, but because they did not have a name for it. Anthropological research suggests early societies viewed repetitive behaviours through spiritual, moral, or ritual lenses rather than medical ones (Rose, 2007). Today, the term exists, and that is the only difference.

What is really wrong with addiction? Addiction simply means overuse or overdependence on something. But people are different. Everyone has their own likes and dislikes. Some like eating rice, some enjoy watching movies, and some go for long drives. Every person has habits they cling to for comfort, pleasure, or distraction. Life is long, and the day itself often feels too long to live through. When the world becomes repetitive, people search for something that makes them feel alive or gives them a pattern to follow.

Imagine a world where you don’t have to work eight or twelve hours a day just to feed yourself or your family. Suppose you were born extremely rich, with nothing to worry about earning a living. Do you realize how much free time you would have? What would you do with it? How many hours can you spend eating or sleeping? Even if you overdo those, people will call it addiction. But is that really wrong? Studies show that leisure time expands when basic survival needs are removed, and people tend to repeat pleasurable activities simply because they can (Kahneman, 2011). Yet society labels this repetition differently depending on who is doing it.

From the eyes of the poor, who must work day and night, four days a week or twenty days a month, just to live a stable life, this free-time activity of the rich is called addiction. But how fair is that? The judgement does not come from the behaviour itself, but from who is performing it. Sociologists argue that society uses moral language to regulate behaviour differently across social classes (Becker, 1963). A labourer who spends hours on his phone is called lazy, but a wealthy person who spends hours on the golf course is called relaxed or privileged.

From the rich person’s point of view, it is not addiction; it is simply enjoying the privilege of time and choice. While the poor are trapped in a cycle of work and routine, the wealthy have the freedom to repeat what they love, even if endlessly. Their behaviour is rarely questioned because society sees addiction differently when it does not threaten economic productivity.

So why do we label a rich man’s repeated actions as addiction? Is it truly wrong, or is it just another way the world divides what is “normal” and what is “abnormal”? When we look closely, we find that the concepts of normality, morality, and addiction are not fixed. They shift depending on culture, class, history, and power. What people call normal today was once abnormal yesterday, and will be considered outdated tomorrow. When you understand that, you see that the world’s labels are often reflections of fear, control, and convenience—not universal truths.

References

Becker, H. (1963) Outsiders: Studies in the Sociology of Deviance. Book.

Conrad, P. (2007) The Medicalization of Society. Book.

Douglas, M. (1966) Purity and Danger. Book.

Hobbes, T. (1651) Leviathan. Book.

Kahneman, D. (2011) Thinking, Fast and Slow. Book.

Keeley, L. (1996) War Before Civilization. Book.

Lewin, R. & Foley, R. (2004) Principles of Human Evolution. Book.

Quill, T. & Battin, M. (2004) Physician-Assisted Dying. Book.

Rose, N. (2007) The Politics of Life Itself. Book.