The Coat I Tried to Hand Off
A few winters ago, I noticed something that I had never really seen in myself before. It was one of those cold evenings where everyone walks around bundled up, weighed down, trying to stay warm. My son was going through a hard season, and I remember watching him come through the door, feeling uncomfortable with his shoulders tight, eyes tired, carrying his own heavy winter coat along with all of his other emotional weight.
Without even thinking, I did the thing I used to do all the time: I stepped forward to try to lift the weight off him. Not his actual coat… but the weight I imagined I could prevent him from feeling.
I offered advice he didn’t ask for. I softened my tone so he wouldn’t spiral. I shaped myself around his mood, and I quietly tried to protect him from consequences I knew were coming. The intention surrounding those actions handed him something else too: my fear. My worry, and my hope that he’d be okay so I could breathe easier.
That’s the moment I recognized what Chapter 2 really teaches:
I wasn’t just trying to lighten his load. I was giving him mine. I wasn’t doing this on purpose, or because I didn’t trust him. I was doing this because, somewhere inside, I believed that if I held enough pieces together, nothing would fall apart.
But here’s what I’ve learned: Our kids, our partners, our people — they can feel the weight we quietly place on their shoulders, even when we think we’re being subtle. And they’re already carrying their own coat.
That night, something softened in me. Instead of jumping in with a solution, I tried something I wasn’t very good at back then: I sat next to him, and I took a breath and I whispered to myself, “This coat is mine.”
He didn’t need me to fix anything. He didn’t need another coat handed to him. He just needed space to feel what he was feeling… while I finally carried what was mine.
And honestly?
It felt like the first warm moment of the season.
— Lisa