The Beauty and Burden of Attachment

I’ve always been the kind of person who gets attached — not out of need, but out of genuine connection. Whether with my students, my theatre mates, or my colleagues at work, I don’t just meet people; I carry them with me. Their laughter, their stories, their struggles, even their smallest quirks — they stay.

And when people leave, as they often do, it affects me deeply. Perhaps because all my life, people have left. Friends who drifted away. Mentors who passed on. Students who graduated. Colleagues who moved forward. Goodbyes, no matter how inevitable, never stop feeling like tiny losses. And the truth is, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.

This is why I sometimes question if I truly belong in the helping profession. Counseling demands a heart that can listen endlessly, a strength that can carry not just your own burdens but the pain of others, too. And while I do my best, while I try to be strong, I often feel the weight of caring too much. Because I don’t just listen — I absorb. I don’t just guide — I carry. And in the quiet, after the sessions end, I’m left holding both their grief and my own.

Some would say the problem is that I care too much. But I don’t think it’s a problem — it’s just who I am. And maybe it makes the road heavier, maybe it makes goodbyes harder, but it also makes every connection real, every shared moment meaningful.

Because if the choice is between protecting myself by caring less or continuing to get hurt because I love deeply — I’d still choose the latter.

I may never get used to people leaving, but perhaps that’s what gives love its weight. Each farewell reminds me that what we shared mattered, that the bond was genuine, that life was richer because of it. And if my heart aches because I cared too much, then maybe that ache is proof that I lived fully, loved deeply, and walked with others in a way that truly mattered.

Some Storms leave Bruises You Can’t See

She's small and frail.

He, strong and sure.

When he fell, she tried to catch him

with what little strength she had,

then called for help.

When she fell,

his first instinct was to raise a fist.

True strength isn't tested

when things are calm,

but when they begin to break.

And that's when the soul speaks,

louder than the body ever could.

Advice Culture: Rethink, Reframe, Respect

 “Wala ko mangutana, naa na siya'y tubag/tambag.”

That’s a line many of us in the younger generation have thought (or said) after receiving another piece of unsolicited advice. Whether it’s about career choices, relationships, clothing, or how we eat- there always seems to be an elder ready to comment. Most often, they think they mean well. But that doesn’t make it welcome.

This subtle - but very real - clash between generations reveals deeper cultural and emotional differences in how we perceive help, guidance, and personal space.

Boomers and the Culture of Advice

To many in the Baby Boomer generation (born roughly 1946–1964), giving advice, even when unasked, is a gesture of "care" and responsibility. In their time, life lessons were passed down orally. Elders were considered living repositories of wisdom. If they didn’t speak, who would?

In their minds, advice is a gift. A shortcut through hardship, a lifeline, or an act of care. They often see staying silent as neglectful. To warn, to teach, to remind. That’s how they show concern.

Gen Z and Millennials: Boundaries Over Bluntness

Younger generations, however, operate with a different set of social rules. Raised in an age of mental health awareness, self-help books, therapy speak, and personal development tools, they prioritize emotional boundaries and personal autonomy.

To them, advice that isn’t asked for often feels intrusive, even disrespectful. It can be interpreted as a lack of trust in their judgment, or worse, a sign that their elders are unwilling to just listen without immediately fixing something.

Where Boomers say: “I’m just trying to help,”

Younger folks might respond: “I didn’t ask.”

The Real Conflict: Control vs. Empowerment

This isn’t just about unsolicited tips. It’s a deeper tension between two worldviews:

• One that values control, order, and experience-based authority,
• And one that champions empowerment, self-discovery, and emotional readiness.

Boomers were raised in environments where survival often required conformity and obedience. Younger generations grew up in a world that asked them to question, express, and protect their inner worlds.

The disconnect is understandable.

But it’s not irreparable.

Bridging the Gap

Instead of silencing one another, perhaps what we need is a shift from corrections to conversations.

Imagine if more people simply asked:

“Would you like to know what I can suggest about that?”

“Mind if I share what helped me?”

“Can I offer a perspective?”

Consent, even in small conversations, builds bridges.

Younger people must also learn to recognize the intent behind unsolicited advice: concern, not control. While not all advice is helpful, very few are given in bad faith. That said, older generations must also learn to communicate with empathy and respect. Share, don’t impose. Offer, don’t override.

Evolving the Culture of Guidance

We’re not rejecting wisdom. We're reshaping how we want to receive it.

In this age, advice needs to be timely, respectful, and welcome. Because even the best insights fall flat when they arrive uninvited.

As a mental health professional, nope, I don’t give advice.

But for the Boomers (and honorary Boomers at heart) who just can’t help themselves - 

Go ahead, you can still give advice.

Just check if the cup’s open… before you start pouring.