Why I Wrote "Why I Care"

"Why do you care so much, Erik?" my classmate asked me one afternoon. "The more you care, the more easily you get hurt. That is why it is easier not to care."

My classmate was right about the pain. My caring got me into a lot of hardship. When I was a teenager, I joined political youth movements to fight for nature conservation and environmental protection. My strong desire to make things right pulled me into constant arguments, disagreements, and stress. By the time I turned twenty, that intensity resulted in severe burnout and depression.

In the years that followed, I tried what my classmate suggested: I shut down. I moved into an apartment on my own, kept my distance from friends and family, and built thick walls around my heart. I thought that if I did not invest my feelings into anything or anyone, I could not be hurt again.

That armor worked in one sense: it did numb the sharp edges of disappointment. But it also took away everything that made life worth living. I woke up feeling grey, uninspired, and disconnected. That was when I realized the truth: not caring is the hardest thing I have ever tried to do.

Learning to Dance in the Rain

For years, I lived in the Netherlands, where grey skies and constant rain can easily weigh on your spirits. At first, the weather frustrated me. I complained constantly to my wife about the grey drizzle outside our window.

One afternoon, I watched a young child outside in bright yellow boots, jumping right into the middle of the deepest rain puddle on the sidewalk. The child was laughing with complete joy. I remembered being that young once. To a child, rain is not an inconvenience; it is an invitation to play.

I began to change my perspective. Rain is natural, necessary, and peaceful. I decided to stop fighting reality. I started learning how to dance in the rain—learning to accept difficult feelings, learning to show kindness to coworkers even on hard days, and learning to care again.

Love is the Point

Why do I want to care? Because I have come to believe that love is the point. The love of ourselves, our real feelings, our confusing thoughts, and the people around us is not a tactic or a stepping stone to something else. It is the goal in itself.

My book, Why I Care, is not an academic psychology textbook. It is a record of my transition from sterile theories to the messy, beautiful reality of daily life. It is an invitation to put down the heavy armor, step into the rain, and allow yourself to care again.