Connected Independence

Loving them well isn’t doing everything for them. It’s inviting them into the weight of responsibility — into contribution, into capability, into the quiet dignity of learning to carry their part.

The Secret Ingredient

I was about to prepare dinner when the words of my supervisor echoed in my ear. Not about food. Not about nutrients. About doing a disservice — in loving them only through acts of kindness.

That landed. Because kindness, when overextended, can quietly become protection. And protection, when habitual, can quietly become limitation.

I was tired. Fatigued in that bone-deep way that doesn’t announce itself dramatically — it just hums beneath everything. And still, dinner needed to be made.

That’s adulthood. No matter how depleted you are. No matter how long the day has been. You still need to cook. You still need to show up. You still need to feed the people you love — and yourself.

So I made a decision. Tonight was the night. “Everyone in the kitchen.”

Truth be told, seven in a kitchen is a lot. It was crowded. Someone was in someone else’s way. And it heightened my anxiety. That material, instinctive pull to protect them — to smooth the edges, prevent mistakes, take over.

The chopping took its time.

Instructions were repeated with patience. It would have been easier to do it all myself.And sometimes, it still is.

But that’s not the point. Because loving them well isn’t doing everything for them. It’s teaching them what it means to carry responsibility.

To contribute. To participate even when you don’t feel like it. To understand that nourishment doesn’t magically appear. It is made.

And so we cooked. 

Seven pairs of hands learning the choreography of adulthood. Learning that fatigue and responsibility can coexist. Learning that contribution is part of belonging.

It wasn’t seamless. It wasn’t serene. But it was growth. Small steps toward connected independence.

Not the kind that says, “I don’t need you. ”But the kind that says, “I can stand beside you.”  Independence that still gathers at the table. Independence that knows how to chop, stir, serve — and someday, lead.

And maybe loving them well

isn’t lightening every load —

but teaching them how to carry it.

L, L, P,

Tash xo