Unconditional love.

Have you ever noticed someone doing something in a way you considered to be wrong, and corrected them? Often, I find myself showing my children how some simple task “should” be done. Sometimes they welcome this “help” but often enough they become annoyed and seem to react in a way that leads me to believe they’d prefer to be left alone to do it their own way. My wife tells me weekly that she’s perfectly capable of driving without my instructional narration (she hates my instructional narration so much that I am often amazed that my voice, in normal conversation, isn’t grating on her).

When I was morbidly obese, any hint at a conversation about my weight would send me into a mental defensive stance, or reluctantly acquiescing and ultimately agreeing to change in an almost strictly performative way.
When confronted about my weight, I would feel as though I was being personally attacked, that those desiring change despised some immutable characteristic that was essential to me.

Trying to see the other point of view, I think that my parents, when considering my weight, probably ran the gamut of emotions.

When my daughter Clementine first got her driving permit, and would try and emulate Grand Theft Auto (though we’ve never had video games in our home), the existential nightmare it caused in me was nearly crippling. My fear for her life and the need for her to not drive in this way was all I could think about.

The point to all of this isn’t some miraculous revelation about why we shouldn’t want those around us to change in ways we deem beneficial, but simply that with acceptance of perspective, I was able to experience some relief.

Remembering all those times that I felt attacked and unloved, realizing now that I was very much loved (because my love for Clementine has never wavered ever slightly, despite the tremendous stress her driving causes me) and that their need for my change is something I too am guilty of nearly every day.