What Moment From This Week Do I Not Want to Forget When I Talk to My Therapist or Future Self?

AYFM 2026 Reflection Card

This post is part five in a ten part series answering each of the questions in the As You Find Me 2026 Reflection Card. Revisit part one, part two, part three, part four. You are encouraged to answer each question for yourself.

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roblox

There’s a question on the As You Find Me 2026 Reflection Card that feels deceptively simple:

“What moment from this week do I not want to forget when I talk to my therapist or future self?”

Not the most dramatic moment.
Not the most painful.
Not the most “breakthrough” moment.

Just the one that mattered.

And the moment I keep returning to is this:

Playing Roblox with Ben.

The Moment That Almost Didn’t Count

At first, I didn’t think it was worth naming.
It didn’t feel “productive.”
It didn’t feel like growth.
It didn’t feel like something that belonged in a therapy session or a journal.

It was just a dad sitting next to his kid, trying to figure out how to jump across pixelated platforms without embarrassing himself.

But then something shifted.

Somewhere between the awkward controls and the laughter and the shared little victories, I realized I was doing something I’ve been trying to do for months:

I was choosing presence over performance.

I wasn’t trying to teach him anything.
I wasn’t trying to optimize the moment.
I wasn’t trying to be the “right” kind of dad.

I was just with him.

And that mattered more than I expected.

The Echo of an Old Memory

What surprised me most was the memory that surfaced while we played.

I suddenly thought of my own dad—sitting on the couch with me, playing Nintendo.
Not talking about life lessons.
Not lecturing.
Not analyzing.

Just playing.

It wasn’t perfect.
He wasn’t perfect.
But that memory is one of the few uncomplicated ones I have from childhood.

And there I was, decades later, unknowingly recreating it.

Not out of obligation.
Not out of nostalgia.
But out of love.

There was something healing in that.
Something circular.
Something redemptive.

Why This Moment Matters

This moment matters because it sits right at the intersection of so many things I’ve been wrestling with:

• Authenticity. Am I being real or performative

• Parenting. Am I showing up in ways that matter

• Productivity. Am I allowed to rest into presence instead of achievement

• Healing. Am I breaking patterns or repeating them

• Connection. Am I letting myself be known, even in small ways

Playing Roblox with Ben wasn’t about the game.
It was about the quiet, almost-invisible shift happening in me:

I’m learning to trust that connection counts.
Even when it doesn’t look impressive.
Even when it doesn’t feel “productive.”
Even when it’s just pixels and laughter and a kid who wants me beside him.

This is the kind of moment my future self will want to remember.
This is the kind of moment my therapist will gently point to and say,
“See? This is the work.”

The Sacred Middle of Showing Up

If I zoom out, this moment feels like a small but meaningful sign that I’m changing, not through grand gestures, but through presence.

I’m learning that love doesn’t always look like effort.
Sometimes it looks like sitting down, picking up a controller, and letting myself be part of my son’s world.

Sometimes it looks like choosing connection over self-critique.
Sometimes it looks like letting joy be enough.

And maybe that’s the moment I don’t want to forget:

The moment I stopped trying to be a “good dad”
and simply became Ben’s dad.

Answering the As You Find Me 2026 Reflection Card questions is possible due to journaling with Rosebud. Rosebud offers something rare: a space that listens back. It turns journaling from a monologue into a conversation, helping you slow down enough to hear what your inner life has been trying to say.