Author: Theodore Lee

We’ve all been there. You’re texting someone you’re into, waiting for a response that never comes. Or maybe they keep saying they’re “super busy” but insist they want to see you… someday. Or they cancel plans last-minute with a vague, “Next week should be better.”

And yet, despite all of this, you keep holding on. You tell yourself that maybe they really are just busy. That maybe they do like you, but life keeps getting in the way. That maybe if you just wait it out, they’ll finally come around.

Let’s start with the obvious: You are not your child’s bestie. At least, not in the way they mean when they’re whispering secrets to their playground BFF or giggling uncontrollably at something ridiculous on their phones.

Okay, we need to talk about your chronic over-apologizing. You know who you are. You say sorry when someone bumps into you. You say sorry when you ask for the check at a restaurant. You say sorry when you text a friend back after three hours instead of three minutes. You’re practically apologizing for existing, and honestly? It’s gotta stop.

Jiu Jitsu is not just a sport or a workout. It’s a process of self-discovery—a constant recalibration of the mind and body that forces you to engage with who you are, who you were, and who you want to become. It’s not just about learning how to fight; it’s about learning how to adapt, persist, and develop resilience in a way that extends far beyond the mats.

Secrets can be tricky for kids to navigate. On the surface, they might all seem the same—someone tells you not to share something, and you feel the weight of keeping it to yourself. But as educators, parents, and caregivers, it’s crucial to teach children that not all secrets are safe.

Some secrets are fun and exciting, like planning a surprise party or keeping a birthday present hidden until the big day. These “safe secrets” have a clear end point—eventually, the person in question will know the truth, and everyone gets to celebrate together. But the reality is, safe secrets are rare.

There’s a moment in every relationship when the newness fades—when the anticipation of seeing each other after a long day becomes routine, when small gestures go unnoticed, when the feeling of being desired starts to feel more like a distant memory than a daily reality.

It’s not that love disappears, or even that attraction does, but something shifts. Maybe it’s familiarity. Maybe it’s the logistical weight of sharing a life together. But whatever the reason, that effortless chemistry—the sense of being truly seen—needs attention.