The cost of an unbroken heart

Olavi Lazarus

I grew up wrapped in a cocoon of profound love. Born into the deep, enduring affection of my parents, I was shielded from the harsh bitterness that many associate with a difficult childhood.

Even when the devastating weight of my father’s passing threatened to shatter our world, that foundation of love remained unshaken.

From this place of security, I chose how to interact with the world: I loved deeply, practised genuine humility, cared fiercely, and offered my respect and trust unreservedly.

I believed, perhaps naively, that the energy you pour into the world is the energy that returns to you.But the world operates on a much colder calculus.The hardest lesson a young person can learn is not always found in material poverty or public failure; sometimes, it is found in the quiet, crushing realisation that your goodness is not enough.

You give your absolute best your time, your empathy, your unshakeable respect only to be met with indifference. No one is thankful.

The very traits that should be celebrated as strengths are often taken for granted, leaving you holding an empty cup while everyone else walks away full.

It is a deeply saddening reality to confront at a young age.

This realisation triggers a unique, silent crisis, particularly for young men.

We are taught to be strong, to provide, and to endure without complaint. But we are rarely taught how to survive the emotional bankruptcy that comes from loving a world that does not love you back.

With the end of September, a month that brings vital attention to suicide awareness and the fragile realities of men’s mental well-being, we must address this silent struggle.

True humbleness does not mean allowing yourself to be hollowed out by the ungratefulness of others.

When a young man’s mental health is eroded by a lack of appreciation, it is paramount that he learns to protect his peace.Burying my naive expectations of human gratitude was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. It was the death of an illusion.

But from that grave, a far more resilient foundation has emerged for my twenties.

I have learned to decouple my kindness from the need for validation.

I still love, I still care, and I still walk with humility, but I do it now as a conscious choice for my own character, not as a transaction for applause.

The world may be unthankful, but my peace of mind is too paramount to let its coldness change the warmth of who I am.****Olavi Lazarus is a science teacher at Nehale Senior Secondary School. ***

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