Time Only Moves Forward, So Love Has to Learn Repair
25 December 2025. Christmas, and our 10th wedding anniversary.
10 years is long. Long enough to feel the weight of what you have built. Long enough to realise what you cannot undo. Long enough to see that marriage is like time, you either continue, or you stop. But you never restart.
That thought sat with me all day. It pushed me into a simple personal discipline I want to keep from now on, not as a productivity hack, but as a way to stay awake to my own life:
- What is the main thing that happened today? (One to three things, not more.)
- What did I learn?
- What can I do better if I were to live today again?
Because if 24 hours pass and nothing meaningful captures my attention, then I did not really live. I just existed while the clock moved. That is the tension of this day. Celebration and sobriety in the same breath. Gratitude mixed with the uncomfortable awareness that I have hurt the people closest to me.
The hardest truth was not about what happened. It was about what I could have done better.
Legoland: A Different Pace, and the First Lesson on Presence
The day started at Legoland with my children.
What made it different was going with Ryan. I usually go on time and leave on time. I have a strict routine, not because I want to be difficult, but because I care about outcomes. Lunch, naps, emotional stability for the kids. I try to keep the day in sequence.
The problem is, sequence can quietly become control. Control can quietly become rushing, and rushing can quietly become the thing that steals the joy you are trying to create. With Ryan around, the dynamic changed. He was late. And yet, instead of the day collapsing, something softened.
He enjoys the moment.
When people are around, I usually flow. I am comfortable being the follower. I fit in well. I cooperate. But when I take the lead, I become time-conscious to the point that fun turns into checkboxes.
Today I followed his pace.
We went to the water park, and I realised something I could not ignore, I could not remember the last time I truly enjoyed myself. Not as a manager of my children, but as a father present with them.
This time I felt it. Not fully, but enough. Maybe 60% present, which for someone like me is already a breakthrough. I paid attention to their emotional needs. I did not force them the way I used to.
We left around 2pm, not 12pm. Lunch was late. Home was later. They slept at 4pm. The schedule broke. But something else formed:
Presence.
Here is a fun fact I have learned from watching children and teams for years: people rarely remember the itinerary, they remember the emotional weather. The tone in the room becomes the memory that stays.
Legoland was not the main point. My presence was.
The Balcony Barbecue, The Mess, and the Moment I Became the Problem
I was exhausted. I slept late the night before, around 3am. I do not usually nap, but I napped with the kids, shallow, disrupted, half asleep.
When we woke up, it was evening. My wife came to me excited. She wanted to do something different. A barbecue on the balcony.
My first reaction was frustration.
The house was messy. Our helper had just left because she was sick. The new helper only came yesterday. The balcony was dusty. The kids would step in and out, bring dirt back into the room, step on the bed, and the worst part, we had not even put on the mattress cover.
In my mind, it was obvious. Sequence matters. Clean first, then celebrate.
I told her there is always a sequence. First part must be done, then only we do something else.
She reminded me, today is Christmas. Let us do something different.
And I hated how quickly my frustration rose. Not because the concern was invalid, but because the way I carried it was heavy. I started venting, and I aimed it at my son.
That is the part that hurts to admit.
I noticed it mid-way. I had awareness. I knew it was unhealthy. I tried to turn it into fun.
I told my children, I will do the bolster because it is harder. You guys do the pillow because it is easier. I tried to joke.
But they could not have fun because I was fierce.
We finished in about 1/2 an hour. Then we went to the balcony. You know what, we had a great night. Short, but real. 2 hours, wagyu beef, and a small spark that last forever.
My kids enjoyed it. My wife enjoyed it. I enjoyed it too.
That was momentous. The kind of moment that lasts longer than the time it took. Right there was the painful lesson: I almost killed the best part of the day over a problem that only took 30 minutes to solve.
Dictatorship, Freedom, and the Trap of Being Good at Work
On the corporate side, I understand my strengths and weaknesses well.
I am objective-driven. I do not pay much attention to process. It is both strength and weakness.
In the company, I can hire people who love process. I can observe and sense whether the process leads to the outcome. That is the spot I am comfortable with. Also, I am the CEO. I have full control if I want it. I can be a dictator, even though there are consequences.
And here is the insight that hit me today: Full control is not automatically strength. It is opportunity and trap.
At work, control can produce speed.
At home, control can produce wounds.
That is the difference between leadership in a system and leadership in a relationship. In a system, you can override. In a relationship, override becomes domination, even if you call it “sequence” or “logic” or “standards.”
This is where world-class frameworks start quietly explaining my day.
Gottman’s Repair Attempts
John Gottman’s research on marriage is famous for one core idea: conflict does not predict divorce as much as the absence of repair. Healthy couples do not avoid tension. They practice repair. They notice the moment they are drifting into disrespect, and they turn back quickly.
What I did well today was not perfect behaviour. It was something smaller and more honest, awareness mid-frustration, and the decision to repair tomorrow morning, immediately, when I open my eyes.
Repair is not a speech. It is a change in posture.
Kahneman’s System 1 and System 2
When you are tired, rushed, and surrounded by disorder, the brain defaults to fast, reactive thinking. You become a version of yourself that feels “right,” but is not wise.
Reflection is the slow mind returning to the driver’s seat.
That is what this journal entry is. It is me reclaiming leadership over my own nervous system.
Eisenhower’s Urgent vs Important
At home, the mess felt urgent. But relationship is important.
My mistake was letting urgent win the wrong arena. I protected order before I protected connection. I defended sequence before I defended joy.
Psychological Safety, But in a Family
Psychological safety is not only for teams. It is for spouses and children too.
A home becomes safe when mistakes can be repaired without shame, when someone can say, “I was wrong,” without turning it into a war. Today, I did not lead the family into fun. I played along. I cooperated. But I did not set the emotional tone.
And I realised something else, my wife had prepared. She bought the meat. She thought about the day. She tried to create a moment. I took her effort for granted because I was staring at the mess.
That is not a Christmas problem. That is a character problem.
What I Will Do Better Next Time
I cannot restart the day.
But I can restart the next similar occasion with a better version of myself.
Here is what I will do differently, practical, simple, doable.
1. Start with one question: “What is the real priority right now?”
Not the cleaner bed. Not the perfect sequence. Not the efficient timeline.
The priority is emotional safety and connection.
2. Compartmentalise the problem, then price it
How long does it actually take? 30 minutes.
If 30 minutes could buy my family a meaningful Christmas memory, then 30 minutes is cheap.
This is where my objective-driven mind can serve love instead of sabotage it. I am good at cost-benefit thinking. I just need to apply it to relationships, not only business.
3. Lead with appreciation before correction
Even if something is messy, if someone is trying, honour the effort first. My wife was trying to create joy. That deserves gratitude, not resistance.
4. Repair faster than I defend myself
Tomorrow morning is not a “make-up session” to reduce guilt. It is a leadership decision.
I will speak to my wife. I will appreciate her. I will apologise for the tone, not just the logic. I will close the day properly so we can enter 2026 with a clean heart, not just a clean room.
And then I will repeat the three questions daily:
What was the main thing today?
What did I learn?
What can I do better next time?
Because repetition is how love becomes a practice, not a mood.
You Cannot Restart Time, But You Can Restart Love
I began the day thinking, “Time cannot be restarted.” The reverse is this:
You cannot restart time, but you can restart love.
Not by rewinding the clock, but by changing your first response, your tone, your pace and your willingness to honour effort, and courage to repair quickly.
Time only moves forward. Love is the part that can turn around. The quiet truth that hits hardest on a 10th anniversary is this:
The real danger in marriage is not the messy house, the late lunch, or the broken routine. It is winning the sequence, but losing the person.
So the new win is simple:
Protect the relationship first, then fix the room. Because the goal of 10 years is not to stay married. It is to become someone safer to be married to.
