Let's Talk Relationships

I’ve come to realize that relationships shape every corner of our lives. They’re not just the obvious ones with family or friends—they’re also those small, almost unnoticed connections.

Like the man I see at the bus stop every morning. I don’t know his name, but I know he works at a bank, has two kids, and is planning to put in a pool this summer. Funny how we can know pieces of someone’s life without ever sharing a real conversation. Still, it’s a relationship in its own way.

What I’ve learned is that every relationship has its own balance, almost like a seesaw.

With some people, it’s effortless—we share the same values, the same rhythm, and I never have to second-guess how I act or what I say.

With others, it takes more work. I love them, but keeping things steady means paying a little more attention, giving a little extra, always adjusting to keep that seesaw from tipping too far.

Romantic relationships can be the trickiest of all.

I still remember those early days of dating—everything was exciting, full of butterflies.

Then life showed up: work, kids, bills, responsibilities. Ten years later, you can find yourself sitting across from the love of your life wondering, “What happened to us? Where did that young, carefree couple go?” The truth is, the connection is still there—it just needs a little care.

A simple text that says, “I’m thinking of you,” a hug in the middle of the day, even a playful tap on the bum in the kitchen—it’s those little reminders that say, “I still want you. I still choose you.”

And if something feels off? It usually is. But instead of jumping straight to the worst-case scenario, I’ve learned to really listen—not just to the words being spoken, but to the silence in between.

Sometimes the imbalance has nothing to do with me. Sometimes it does. Either way, respect and patience go a long way in figuring it out.

The hardest seesaw I ever tried to balance was with my kids when they were teenagers. I wanted so badly to protect them, to guide them, but the tighter I held on, the harder they pushed back. We couldn’t have a conversation without it turning into a battle.

They thought I was clueless, and I thought they were reckless. It felt like the seesaw had flipped upside down.

Eventually, though, something shifted—maybe in them, maybe in me. I started to listen more. Not talk at them, but talk with them. To my surprise, they had thoughtful opinions, they were informed, and sometimes, they didn’t need my advice at all—they just needed me to hear them.

Now, those same kids are grown, and I love the conversations we share. They don’t always make the choices I would, but I respect them, and I think they respect me too. Looking back, I think we taught each other patience, understanding, and most importantly, respect.

And that’s really what it all comes down to.

Whether it’s your spouse, your best friend, your kids, or even that guy at the bus stop—respect and boundaries are what keeps the seesaw balanced.