Seriously?!

What Is More Important Than Your Child?

   I have a friend who is a single mother. She is strong, hardworking, and deeply devoted to her daughter. Since birth, she has raised her child on her own while the father has lived abroad. It has not always been easy, but she has built a bond with her daughter that is honest, nurturing, and unbreakable. Now eleven years old, the child still avoids sleepovers simply because she does not like being away from her mother. That is how close they are. That closeness did not happen by chance. It came from consistent love, daily care, and emotional presence.

    The child’s father migrated when she was three years old. He got married abroad when she was around four or five. From that point on, his role has been largely financial. He contributes money, and for that, my friend is grateful. But money alone does not raise a child. And what is painfully missing from his involvement is effort. Effort to connect. Effort to understand. Effort to build a relationship. When he visits the island, he often spends less than a day with his daughter. Sometimes his visit happens just before he leaves again. That has become a pattern. There are no extended outings. No real time spent bonding. No quiet conversations or shared moments to strengthen their relationship. Instead, the child is expected to simply accept him as her father and feel close to him, regardless of how absent he has been in her daily life.

    Naturally, the child has grown reluctant to go anywhere with him when he visits. She does not feel safe in the emotional sense. She does not know him well enough to feel comfortable. The few interactions they have are often delivered in the form of ultimatums. Either she wants to do something with him, or he will do it without her. Either she agrees, or the opportunity passes. There is little room for discussion or understanding. Just pressure. As a result, the child rarely calls him. She will send messages instead. And even then, she often hesitates. She simply does not know how to talk to him. The emotional gap between them is too wide. She does not feel like she can confide in him the way she does with her mother. At around eight or nine years old, she tried to maintain some form of contact, but even then, it was difficult. He once made a comment that shocked me. He said that the only time his daughter reaches out is when she wants something.

She was just a child.

    That kind of thinking reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of parenting. Children do not withhold affection out of malice. They withhold it when they do not feel safe. They go silent when they are unsure. They retreat when they feel pushed. If your child does not call you, the question should not be, “Why are they not reaching out?” The question should be, “What have I done to make them feel they cannot?”

    More recently, my friend had a conversation with him about whether he would consider filing for the child to live with him abroad. His response was deeply disappointing. He said he would not waste his money to do something the child clearly does not want. He said he would not negotiate with a child. He told her he had more important things to do with his money. And he added that if the child regrets her decision in the future, then so be it.

Let us pause here.

    The child is now just eleven years old. She is not being rebellious. She is scared, confused, and deeply attached to the one parent who has never left her side. Her reaction is not rejection. It is a cry for understanding. If she does not want to live with her father, it is not out of spite. It is because she does not know him. And she does not know him because he has never truly tried to know her.

    My friend said she did not argue with him. She could have. She had every reason to. But instead, she said, “Do not worry about it.” And in those words, she chose peace over conflict. Still, I know there was more she wanted to say. She wanted to say:

“If you wanted her with you, you would have filed for her when you were filing for yourself. If you cared about being her father in more than just name, you would have taken the time to talk with her, understand her fears, and explain her options gently. You would not have spoken about your money as if it is more important than her future. And you certainly would not have dismissed her feelings with frustration or threats. If you think parenting is just about sending money, then you have misunderstood the whole purpose of fatherhood.”

    From a practical point of view, I can also understand his reluctance. Immigration is expensive and emotionally taxing. No one wants to invest in something that may not work out. But that is the difference between a transaction and a relationship. This is not a contract. It is a child. An eleven-year-old who needs to feel seen, heard, and loved. This leads me to a very real question:

What options exist for green card holders who do not want to move to the United States right away?

There are several flexible choices:

1. Green Card with Re-Entry Permits
   If the child receives a green card but is not ready to move immediately, a re-entry permit can be requested. This allows the child to stay outside the United States for up to two years without losing her permanent resident status.

2. Short, Timed Visits
   Green card holders are expected to live in the United States, but short visits every six months or so can help maintain status. However, this option must be handled carefully and consistently.

3. Begin the Process, Delay the Move
   A parent can start the immigration process now, while allowing time for the child to grow emotionally ready. This ensures the opportunity is not lost, while avoiding sudden pressure on the child to leave everything familiar.

4. Use the Waiting Period to Build Connection
   The time it takes for an immigration application to process could be used to build the parent-child relationship. Video calls, shared activities, letters, and intentional conversations could bridge the emotional gap.

    Parenting is not just about what we provide. It is about how we show up. It is about whether our children feel safe in our presence. Whether they can speak without fear. Whether they feel loved for who they are, not what they do or what they ask for. Because in the end, children remember how we made them feel. Not the gifts. Not the cheques. Not the threats. They remember the tone of our voices. The patience we offered. The effort we made. They remember whether we saw them, or whether we treated their emotions as inconveniences.

And when the question arises, what is more important than your child?, the answer should always be, “Nothing.”

—HumanityECW

When the Company Sets You Up to Fail

Let me share something that has been on my mind lately. It’s about a friend of mine, and honestly, her situation made me think about how many people might be living the same quiet frustration.

Imagine being placed in a role at work that you have absolutely no formal training for. You have not studied for it. You have no background in it. You were simply told one day that this is your new role. Just like that. No training. No support. No guidance.

You might expect that at least some form of on-the-job training would be offered. Maybe a mentor. Maybe even a proper handover from someone who knew the ropes. But no. Nothing.

What would you do? My friend chose to push through. She took it upon herself to research, to read, to study late at night after work, just trying to get a handle on what she was expected to do during the day. She even went so far as to source short courses that could help her. She presented them to her employer, hoping they would invest in her development so she could actually meet their expectations. But what was the response?

The company said they could not take on the commitment at this time.

So she continued. Day after day. Trying. Failing. Trying again. But how long can a person continue like that? To be set up to fail, then blamed when they cannot deliver?

She told me recently that she will soon hand in her resignation.

And honestly, I do not blame her.

Is she wrong for walking away? I do not think so. She was placed in a role she was not prepared for, given no tools to succeed, and then expected to perform as if she had been trained from the start. That is not just unfair. It is negligent.

In my view, the fault lies squarely with her employer.

Employers often forget that people are not machines. You cannot simply plug someone into a role and expect instant results, especially without offering the proper training or support. When a company refuses to invest in its people, it should not be surprised when its people stop investing their energy back into the company.

As for possible outcomes? For her, resigning might be the best thing. She will finally be able to breathe again. She can hopefully move into a role where she is either properly trained or valued for the skills she brings. Maybe she will even find an employer that understands development is part of growth, not an optional expense.

For her employer, the outcome could go two ways. They might brush it off. Replace her with another person and repeat the cycle. But eventually, they will hit a wall. Turnover will rise. Morale will drop. Reputation will suffer. Or, if they are wise, they will learn. They will realise that failing to support employees costs more in the long run than investing in proper training from the start.

I suppose what strikes me the most is how normalised this situation has become. So many people are stuck in roles they were never trained for, fighting silent battles their employers will never acknowledge, just because they need the paycheck.

I do not think we talk about that enough. 

If you choose to walk away, like my friend plans to, then know that leaving is not giving up. Sometimes, it is the bravest thing you can do.

— HumanityECW 

Living in a Society Where Beauty Can Be Bought

We live in a society where beauty can be bought.

And no, I'm not talking about appearance. Not makeup, surgery, or anything you see in the mirror. I'm not talking about physical beauty like flawless skin, perfect curves, or filtered images.

I''m talking about the metaphorical kind of beauty. The kind that makes life feel soft, safe, and full of options. The kind where your struggles are handled before they even arrive. Where your bad days are met with support instead of judgment. Where hardship never knocks because it has already been paid off.

That kind of beauty.

In this world, the most beautiful parts of life often come with a price tag. Peace of mind. Time. Comfort. Safety. All sold to the highest bidder. When you have money, the world treats you differently. Doors open. Lines get shorter. Smiles are warmer. You are allowed to make mistakes. You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to exist without constantly proving that you deserve to be here. You can buy beauty in the form of silence, privacy, respect, and dignity.But when you do not have money, and especially if you come from struggle or are still living in it, even the basics feel out of reach. Rest becomes a luxury. Joy feels borrowed. You are expected to work twice as hard, be twice as grateful, and still get blamed for not being further along.

Some people are born into comfort. They do not know what it is like to choose between rent and groceries. They do not understand the weight of unpaid bills or the fear that comes with them. They have never had to carry an entire household on their back while quietly falling apart. Their version of hard is not yours.

And then there are those who did know. Once. They came from tight budgets and secondhand clothes. But now they have made it. And somewhere along the way, they forgot. They forgot what it feels like to sit on the edge of your bed, staring at numbers that will never stretch far enough. They forgot what it feels like to be invisible, to be judged before you are even given a chance. Success made them comfortable. Comfort made them forget.

In this world, beauty in the form of freedom, peace, and access is treated like a luxury. Like a reward. And everywhere we turn, we are being sold the illusion. The beautiful apartment. The beautiful relationship. The beautiful vacation. The beautiful, curated life. And the message is clear. If you do not have those things, maybe you are just not trying hard enough. Maybe you do not deserve them yet.

But I have learned something different.

Real beauty is not something anyone can sell you.

It lives in the quiet courage to keep going when everything around you is built to wear you down. It shows up in the laughter that survives heavy days. In the joy you create when the world gives you none. In the fact that you still have your softness, even after everything tried to harden you.

It lives in remembering. Remembering where you came from. Remembering who you were when you had nothing. Refusing to look down on those still climbing.

There is beauty in the strength it takes to show up when no one is clapping. In the quiet decision to choose integrity over shortcuts. In walking away from things not meant for you, even when it is hard. In surviving what was meant to break you.

Yes, the world is tilted in favor of those who can afford the prettier version of life. But I still believe there is beauty in the climb.

It may not be shiny. It may not come with applause. But it is yours.

And that is a kind of beauty no one can buy.

--HumanityECW

A Person Who Is Comfortable Being Alone Is Dangerous

I came across a video on TikTok a few nights ago. It was late, but like most nights, I could not sleep. I was just scrolling, letting the algorithm do its thing, when a man in his car popped up on my screen. He said something that stopped me right in the middle of my scrolling. “A person who is comfortable being alone is dangerous.” 

That was his first line. He had not even gotten into his point yet, but I sat there staring at the screen like someone had called me by name. It hit deep, because if I’m being honest, I have always kind of been that person. The one who is okay being alone. I was like that since I was a child. Sure, I played with the other kids in the yard or in the neighborhood when I got the chance, but there was always something in me that felt… separate. I had to grow up faster, at least mentally. There were parts of me that I learned to keep tucked away, because I believed that not everyone deserved to see them. Not even family. Not even friends.

I know that might sound cold, but it’s not. It’s what happens when you learn early that some people only listen so they can later use your words against you. It has happened to me more times than I care to count. So I learned to keep things to myself. I smiled, I showed up, but, I held back. That is how I learned to protect my peace.

I do not let many people in. I can count the number of friends I have on one hand. The rest? Acquaintances. Nice people, yes. People I might laugh or joke with, but not people I would bleed in front of; and I am okay with that, truly.

One thing about me that I fear people do not, and will never understand, is that, I do not hesitate to cut people off if they start messing with my peace. I have done it before, I will do it again, and I will continue doing it. I have lost “friends” that way, but I do not regret it.

Anyone who chips away at your spirit, who drains your energy, who leaves you feeling worse after every interaction, does not belong in your life. It is not about holding grudges or being bitter. In fact, I wish those people well. I hope they succeed. I hope they find healing. I just know I will be cheering for them from a distance.

Being comfortable with your own company is so powerful.

When you’re okay being alone, you don’t cling to people out of fear. You don’t beg for love. You don’t chase people who walk away. You stop entertaining things that break you just to avoid feeling lonely.

You understand that being alone and being lonely are two very different things. Loneliness is painful, yes, but solitude, solitude is peace. It is the space where you hear yourself clearly. Where you breathe deeper and where you remember who you are without all the outside noise.

So yes, the man in the car was right. A person who is comfortable being alone is dangerous. Not because they are cold or heartless, but because they no longer fear being left.

• They no longer shrink to fit into someone else’s life.
• They no longer sacrifice their mental well-being to keep others comfortable.
• They no longer settle.
• They choose themselves.
• They choose survival.

That is strength.

There’s wisdom in protecting what is sacred. There is nothing wrong with you for being selective. There is nothing weak about setting boundaries.

Your peace is precious. Guard it with everything you have.

Even if that means walking alone. 

-HumanityECW