Choosing Love When Approval Comes at a Price

Some people grow up believing love is soft and forgiving. I grew up learning that love could be measured, inspected, and quietly withdrawn if you failed to earn it.

My mother taught me that lesson early.

When my father left our home, there were no tears and no raised voices. No slammed doors followed by regret. She simply watched him go, removed their wedding photo from the wall, and placed it into the fire without hesitation. Then she turned to me. I was five years old, standing very still, already aware that silence could be a kind of safety.

“It’s just us now, Jonathan,” she said. “And we don’t break.”

That sentence became the foundation of my childhood.

My mother did not raise me with hugs or bedtime stories. She raised me with rules, standards, and expectations that never rested. I attended the best schools. I learned piano before I learned how to express frustration. I practiced posture, eye contact, and gratitude notes written in perfect cursive. Every mistake was a lesson. Every success only raised the bar higher. Continue reading…