Perhaps the most unspoken question behind everything we do in life.

There is a question I have been thinking about lately. It is not particularly complicated, nor does it sound philosophical when spoken aloud. Yet, the more I sit with it, the more I feel that perhaps it is the root of so many questions we ask ourselves, the decisions we make, the relationships we hold on to, and even the lives we choose to build.

Who is looking after you?

I wonder if, somewhere deep inside, this is the question that quietly accompanies us through almost every stage of life.

I remember how parents often ask this question, sometimes directly, sometimes disguised as a casual conversation. “What will you do when we are not around? Who will look after you?” There is so much more hidden in those words than concern about our everyday needs. It is their way of expressing a fear that they may not always be there to protect us, guide us, or simply make sure that we are okay.

And perhaps, as we grow older, we realise that we have inherited that very same fear.

I may have friends, relationships, a partner, people I speak to every day, and people who genuinely care about me. Yet, there are moments when I wonder whether there is someone I can truly fall back on when life becomes difficult. Someone who would notice when I am not myself, understand my silence, worry when I disappear, and stay without needing an explanation.

Not someone who is necessarily going to solve my problems, but someone whose presence makes me feel that I do not have to face everything alone.

And I suspect this is a feeling many of us carry, even when we are surrounded by people.

The more I think about it, the more I feel that this underlying need for security shapes much of what we do.

Look at how we organise our lives.

We work hard to earn money, build savings, acquire assets, buy homes, secure investments and create financial stability. We tell ourselves that we are doing this for a better future, and, of course, we are. But perhaps, somewhere beneath all that planning, there is another thought: If something happens tomorrow, will I be okay?

Our relationship with health is not very different. We become conscious of our bodies, our food, our exercise, our medical reports and our ageing. We want to remain healthy, independent and capable. Not merely because we want to live longer, but because we do not want to become a burden on someone else. We want to be able to look after ourselves for as long as possible.

Even our passions and pursuits may have a deeper connection to this need. We want to be good at something, to be recognised, to create an identity, to leave something behind. Perhaps we are trying to build a world in which our existence has meaning, and where we feel that we belong.

Money gives us a sense of security. Health gives us a sense of independence. Relationships give us a sense of belonging. Passion gives us a sense of purpose.

And perhaps, beneath all four, sits the same quiet human longing: I want to know that I will be okay.

There is something interesting about how this question changes as we move through life. As children, we expect our parents to look after us. As adults, we begin looking after our parents. When we become parents ourselves, we start worrying about who will look after our children when we are no longer around.

We seem to spend much of our lives moving between these two responsibilities: being looked after and looking after someone else.

But what about us?

Who looks after the person who is always looking after everyone else? Who notices the exhaustion behind the responsibilities, the loneliness behind the independence, or the vulnerability behind the confidence?

I sometimes feel that even our relationships are influenced by this unspoken expectation. We look for a partner who will stand beside us, friends who will remember us, and family who will make us feel wanted. We may call it love, companionship, loyalty or emotional security. But perhaps, at a deeper level, we are looking for the reassurance that somebody will not simply walk away when life becomes difficult.

Maybe this also explains why we sometimes hold on to relationships longer than we should. Not necessarily because they make us happy, but because the thought of having nobody to turn to feels more frightening than the unhappiness we are already experiencing. And perhaps this is where we need to distinguish between having someone in our life and actually feeling looked after by them. They are not always the same thing…….

We live in a world that celebrates independence. We are encouraged to be financially independent, emotionally strong, professionally successful and self-sufficient.

We are told to be strong enough to handle our own problems.

Yet, I wonder whether complete independence is even what we truly desire.

Perhaps we don’t want someone to take responsibility for our lives. We simply want the freedom to be vulnerable sometimes. To have a bad day without explaining ourselves. To fall apart without feeling judged, to know that there is someone who will hold our hand, metaphorically or otherwise, when we cannot find the strength to hold everything together.

There is a beautiful thought in Rumi’s poetry about the human heart and its capacity to receive what life brings. In The Guest House, he describes the human being as a house that welcomes every arrival, including sorrow and difficult emotions. It reminds me that perhaps being looked after also begins with allowing ourselves to acknowledge our own feelings rather than constantly pretending to be fine. (It’s my version of understanding)

Rumi also writes, in a rendering of his Masnavi, that through love, bitter things become sweet. Perhaps love is not always about somebody rescuing us. Sometimes, it is simply about making the weight of living feel a little lighter. (It’s my version of understanding)

I started this reflection with a rather simple question: Who is looking after you?

The more I think about it, the more I realise that it is not really a question about old age, money, family or relationships alone. It is about our fundamental need to feel that our existence matters to someone.

Perhaps our parents will always worry about us, no matter how old we become. Perhaps we will always worry about our children, regardless of how capable they grow up to be. And perhaps, somewhere between these two worries, we will continue searching for that reassuring presence in our own lives.

I don’t have a perfect answer to this question, I am still trying to understand it myself.

But I do wonder whether the next time we meet someone, we should look beyond asking what they do, how successful they are, or what they have achieved. Perhaps we should ask ourselves something much simpler.

Do they feel looked after? Do I make them feel that way? And, more importantly, do I feel that way myself?

Because at the end of the day, we may spend our entire lives building homes, careers, relationships, savings and identities. But what we are perhaps trying to build, all along, is a place where we can finally put our guard down.

A place where we don’t have to be strong all the time. A place where somebody notices, a place where we belong – within ourselves.