There is something about the way I was raised that made caring come naturally to me. I grew up believing that life’s true measure isn’t in what you have, but in what you give. Over the years, that belief shaped how I relate with people, family, friends, even strangers. I have always been the one who wants to see others smile, even if it costs me my own comfort. It’s not an exaggeration to say I could give my last kobo to someone in need. I have done it before, too many times to count. Someone calls, someone cries, someone explains how bad things are, and even if I don’t have much, I’ll find a way to make something happen. Sometimes it’s not even because I have plenty, but because I can’t stand the thought of someone I care about suffering while I still have something left. But here’s the part I never used to talk about, the flip side of that generous heart. Because while I have built a reputation for being kind and dependable, I have also learned that caring without control...
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