Etikett: boundaries

relationer behöver vara trygga

adult-responsibility-child-needs

Read this post in Swedish

Läs det här inlägget på svenska


Foreword

I’ve been thinking a lot since I wrote my last post.
Maybe someone felt exposed.
Maybe it was too much, too direct, too uncomfortable.

And maybe that’s exactly what it needed to be.


I don’t write to judge

What I wrote – it didn’t come from anger at parents.
It came from love for children.
And from a sorrow that has grown over the years.

Because I’ve seen things.
I’ve worked with young people for many years – in treatment centers, institutions, therapy rooms, and out on the streets. I’ve listened to stories that still hurt in my chest today.

Like the time I asked a young person to describe what a real friend is – and realized they had never had one. When I explained what friendship meant to me, they looked at me like I was telling a fairytale. That’s how far away it was from their reality.


When children’s eyes lose their light

So when I see young kids – because they are kids – hanging around late at night, with eyes that have already lost their trust… it hurts.
And then I have to write.

What we don’t need is scapegoats

What we need is presence. Connection. Courage.


The responsibility of the adult world

I know parenting isn’t easy.
We’re tired. We’re overwhelmed. We try our best.
The laundry piles up. The fridge is empty. The clock never stops.

I’ve been there too.

But still:
We have to see that some kids are getting lost.
Running straight off a cliff – thinking that’s where they’ll be seen.

And the responsibility?
It’s ours. The adults.
Together.

We can do more – even when it feels impossible

Maybe we think it’s too late.
That we’ve lost control. That the child has chosen their path.
But most of the time – it’s not too late.

Small actions can create big changes.
A conversation. A clear boundary. A “I see you, and I care.”

It’s not about perfect solutions.
It’s about trying. About taking one more step.
Staying present one more night.
Asking for help.
Daring to say to another parent:
“Hey, I’m worried – how do we handle this together?”

Because it’s possible.
We can do more than we think.
And often, it starts with someone believing it’s possible.
Sometimes – that someone is you.


A cry for presence and courage

What I wrote last time was a cry.
A cry for attention.
A cry for involvement.
And a cry to be an adult – not your child’s best friend.

A cry for courage.
And the courage it takes to ask for help.

Because safety often lives in what seems boring.
In routine. In boundaries. In predictability.

We’re not supposed to be our children’s best friends

We’re supposed to be their direction. Their compass. Their grounded hand.

To you who felt something

If you felt anger, guilt, sorrow – or just exhaustion – when reading my last post, I want you to know:

I’m not against you.
I’m for you.
I stand with you.

When you dare to say:
“No. This is not okay.”

I want your children to thrive. I want us to see – together.
It’s time to raise the blinds. To look out. To stop pretending we don’t see.

Saying no – and still staying close

Children don’t only need love.
They need direction.
They need someone who says no – and explains why.

Someone who dares to see.
Who stays when the child tests every boundary.
Who says:

“I see what you’re doing. I won’t allow it. But I’m not leaving – because I know you need me.”

Sometimes the greatest love isn’t the one that says yes –
but the one that says no, and still refuses to let go.

Reflection:

Sometimes we write to release something from within.
Sometimes we write to change something outside ourselves.
And sometimes – we do both.


Yesterday has already settled into history. Tomorrow waits further ahead.
But right now – this is where life happens. – Carina Ikonen Nilsson

Support my writing

If you appreciate what I write and want to support the blog:
Support me via PayPal

#vuxenansvar #barnibehov #gränssättning #föräldraskap #trygghet #närvaro #modattståkvar
#adultresponsibility #boundariesmatter #parentingtruth #supportouryouth #standfirmwithlove

När platser blir laddade – men livet fortsätter

Av Carina Ikonen Nilsson – malix.se

Inledning

”Jag vet inte om du har en sån plats – en som en gång gav dig ro, men som nu bär på andra känslor. Själv sitter jag här på altanen och låter tankarna vandra just dit…”

Det här skrev jag igår, i värmen under altantaket. När du läser det sitter jag nog vid sjön där det är simskola. Kanske med en kopp kaffe i handen, kanske i samtal med en liten kille som sakta men säkert närmar sig vattnet. Små steg, med tillit. Både för honom – och för mig.


Att lära sig simma – och våga närma sig

Idag fick jag följa med grannens pojke till simskolan. Han har inte riktigt lärt sig simma än, och har lite svårt att komma i vattnet. Men simkunnighet är så viktigt. Inte för att bli duktig – men för att kunna ta sig till land om något skulle hända. För mig är det en av de mest grundläggande kunskaperna man kan få.

Vi bestämde att ta med lite fika och stanna kvar en stund efteråt. Visa att sjön kan vara något positivt. Lek, skratt, nyfikenhet. Kanske blir det bara fötterna i vattnet idag. Kanske lite hundsim imorgon. Vi tar det i små steg. Det är så man lär sig – både barn och vuxna.


En annan sjö, en annan känsla

Men samtidigt – jag badade inte idag. Inte i min egen sjö.
Den där platsen som är min. Där jag brukar andas, vila, känna mig hemma. Jag valde bort den.

Det var inte av feghet. Inte ens av sorg – även om det gjorde ont.
Jag valde det av respekt.

Respekt för min son, om han skulle vara där.
För barnbarnen – för att de inte skulle behöva känna något konstigt, något svårförklarligt.
Jag ville inte vara den som störde stillheten. Inte idag.

Det var mitt sätt att visa omtanke – på avstånd. Men det innebar också att jag avstod från något som ger mig kraft.
Och jag saknade det.


När minnen färgar en plats

Det är märkligt hur platser kan förvandlas.
Inte för att de fysiskt förändras – men för att våra känslor gör det.
Från trygghet till vaksamhet.
Från frihet till försiktighet.

Min plats att vila i nuet

Den där sjön är min plats.
Men idag fick den stå tom – av hänsyn.
Och kanske av rädsla också.
Rädsla för att riva upp något.
För att bli en känsla i någon annans dag som inte är välkommen.


Att ta tillbaka något – varsamt

Men jag vill tillbaka.
Inte genom konfrontation.
Utan genom stillhet.
Genom att bara vara där, igen. I min takt.

Kanske i gryningen.
Kanske en annan dag.
Med fötterna i vattnet och hjärtat lite närmare mig själv.


Hemma, i långsam rörelse

Under dagen hemma hängde jag tvätt i solen.
Kände vinden mot huden. Lyssnade på tystnaden mellan maskinerna.
Rensade lite ogräs i slänten – men bara så mycket som kroppen orkade.

Och vet du vad?
Jag sa till mig själv: Nu räcker det.
Det som blev gjort var tillräckligt.
Det var vackert. Resten tar jag en annan dag.

Det är något nytt.
Och kanske också något jag lär mig – precis som lillpojken i sjön kanske gör.


Har du någon plats som förändrats för dig – en gång trygg, nu osäker?
Hur gör du för att ta tillbaka den?
Och hur vet du när det är dags att försöka?


Carina Ikonen Nilsson

Stöd gärna mitt skrivande

Om du tycker om mina texter och vill stödja mitt skrivande, får du gärna bidra via PayPal.
Varje liten gåva hjälper mig att fortsätta skapa, skriva och dela det som känns på riktigt.

Stöd bloggen via PayPal

Hashtags (svenska):

#självomsorg #relationer #respekt #simskola #barn #badglädje #läkandekraft #familjeband #vardagsreflektion #levjustnu

Hashtags (english):

#selfcare #healingjourney #familyties #swimlessons #boundaries #respect #everydayreflection #rightnowmatters #griefhealing #mindfulmoments

When Places Carry Weight – But Life Moves On

By Carina Ikonen Nilsson – malix.se

Introduction

”I don’t know if you have a place like that – one that once brought you peace but now carries something heavier. I’m sitting here on the patio, letting my thoughts drift in that direction…”

I wrote this yesterday, sitting beneath the roof of the patio while the sun warmed the air around me. As you’re reading this, I’m likely by the lake where swimming lessons are held. Perhaps with a cup of coffee in hand, watching a little boy slowly approach the water. Step by step. With trust. For him – and for me.


Learning to Swim – and to Approach Gently

Today I had the opportunity to join the neighbor’s little boy for his swimming lesson.
He hasn’t quite learned how to swim yet, and he’s a bit hesitant about getting into the water.
But swimming skills are essential. Not about being great at it – but about being able to reach the shore or a pier if you fall in. For me, it’s one of the most fundamental life skills.

We packed a small picnic and decided to stay a while after the lesson. The idea was to show him that the lake can also be a place of joy. Of play, laughter, curiosity.
Maybe today will only be about getting his feet wet.
Maybe tomorrow we’ll try dog paddling.
Step by step – that’s how learning happens. For children. For adults.


Another Lake, a Different Feeling

At the same time, I chose not to swim in my lake today.
The one that usually brings me calm, breath, stillness.
I stayed away.

And not out of fear. Not even just sorrow – though yes, it hurt.

I made that choice out of respect.
Respect for my son, in case he was there.
For my grandchildren – so they wouldn’t feel something strange or awkward.
I didn’t want to stir anything up. Not today.

It was my quiet way of caring – from a distance.

But it also meant stepping away from something that gives me strength.
And yes, I missed it.


When Memories Color a Place

It’s strange how places can change.
Not physically – but emotionally.
A place of safety becomes a place of caution.
A place of freedom becomes a place of hesitation.

my lake to stay in peace

That lake is still mine.
But today, I left it untouched – out of consideration.
Maybe even fear.
Fear of becoming a feeling in someone else’s day who didn’t want me there.


Reclaiming Gently, Not Forcefully

But I want to return.
Not through confrontation.
But through presence.
By simply being there again – in my own time.

Maybe at dawn.
Maybe on another day.
With my feet in the water and my heart a little closer to myself.


At Home, In Slower Motion

Back home, I hung laundry in the sun.
Felt the wind on my skin. Listened to the stillness between washing machine cycles.
I weeded a little in the slope by the house – just as much as my back allowed.

And you know what?
I told myself: That’s enough for today.
What I managed to do was beautiful.
The rest can wait.

That’s new for me.
And maybe something I’m learning – just like the little boy at the lake.


Question for You, Dear Reader:

Do you have a place that once felt safe – but now feels uncertain?
How do you reclaim it?
And how do you know when it’s time?

Carina Ikonen Nilsson

Support My Writing

If you enjoy my writing and would like to support my work, you’re welcome to contribute via PayPal.
Every little donation helps me continue sharing these honest, everyday reflections.

Support the blog via PayPal

#selfcare #healingjourney #familyties #swimlessons #boundaries #respect #everydayreflection #rightnowmatters #griefhealing #mindfulmoments

#självomsorg #relationer #respekt #simskola #barn #badglädje #läkandekraft #familjeband #vardagsreflektion #levjustnu


Drivs med WordPress & Tema av Anders Norén