I thought I could save my son, help him reintegrate into normal life, motivate him to be productive.
But what I was doing was disregarding his need for and right to happiness.
This morning, I had to do some mental yoga to avoid screaming at him––once again––because he’d grabbed an Uber instead of using public transportation.
Once he was home and I saw his smile as he stirred the crema in his Nespresso cold brew-style coffee, a wave of happiness washed over me.
This is it, I realized. Reintegration isn’t about doing things on a schedule, chop-chop (that’s the Ghost of Exertion speaking). It’s about enjoying freedom first, and relearning to live as a free man later.
He’s happy just to be free, yet my Ego-driven optimization agenda kept pressuring him to move, do, change!
Hearing him laugh with something he was watching, I felt a cozy warmth in my cheeks and throat. I relaxed. This isn’t tragic or sad. This is a moment of celebration, because he’s free after surviving 10 months in unthinkable conditions.
If I want him to thrive, I need to understand and allow his joy. Allowing him to be happy isn’t spoiling him. It’s compassion.
What control will you release to make room for compassion?
Love,
Carolina
Carolina Perez Sanz 