Fit To Be Dad

PSA: If you see me out and about wearing my Free Dad Hugs shirt and you need a hug, COME ASK FOR A HUG!

I know I might look mean, but none of us bought and wear these shirts just for the hell of it. It’s to help those who need it.

Pass it on.

It’s a sunny Sunday morning. Laundry is done. Kitchen is cleaned. And I’m ironing patches onto Thing 3’s Girl Scout vest while drinking coffee and listening to The Cure.

I’ve always been the one who affixed the various pins and patches onto each iteration of our kids’ scouting ensembles. With my youngest being 13 years old now, I don’t know how many more patches I’ll have handed to me by a kid saying, “Here, Dad! Another patch for you to put on.”

I’m at a very strange point in my life where my role as Dad is not-so-slowly morphing once again, as it did with the older two, from “Puppet Master of All The Details” to “Counselor and Problem Solver, As Needed.” I used to have an idea of what life after little kids would look like, but now, the future is just a blank canvas. It’s both hopeful and terrifying.

But for now I’m content ironing on another round of patches and feeling my sense of purpose in this current incarnation of Dad Life.

It’s a Bowie Sunday. Finally found an older copy of David Bowie’s The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars album. It’s not an original pressing like thought it was, but still sounds fantastic on vinyl! If any of you have an original run of this album for a reasonable price, hit a homie up!

#👨🏼‍🎤

This was me last night after returning from a chilly nighttime walk. Sitting on my kitchen floor while my cats ate their dinner, in a quiet, empty apartment that used to always be filled with life noise.

As my 40th trip around the sun comes to an end in a couple of days, and my 41st begins, I’m hit with a lot of emotions. This year, quite honestly, has been brutal loss after another.

I’m tired.

I’m exhausted.

I’ve had enough of hurting and grieving.

And, yes, I’m scared because for someone who has always tried to have a plan for everything, nothing at all this year has gone according to plan, or has even allowed me to have some small semblance of a plan. And no, not all of it has been bad.

Nevertheless, I never in a million years thought I’d be about to hit 41 years of age separated and single, back to working 10+ hours days, still grinding through college courses to get my degree, while also having to heal from so much that I didn’t deserve.

But that’s life. And this is where the universe has decided that I’m supposed to be. Treading water in a sea of uncertainty, with the hope of better days somewhere on the horizon. But in which direction do I go?

This isn’t some thinly veiled cry for help. This is just me reflecting and being honest and vulnerable, to hopefully show someone out there that you don’t have to project a strong, composed facade 24/7.

As men, we grow up in a society that beats into us from a young age that vulnerability and showing emotions and revealing struggles are a sign of weakness and something that needs to be hidden from the world, instead of explored, dissected, and understood.

Most years, I look at my birthday as a time to reflect and set new, lofty goals for the upcoming trip around the sun. This year, I’m not so sure I want to do that. What I am going to do, is what I’ve tried to do these last many years:

Focus on what’s best for my children and try to find my happy, whatever that looks like, however that manifests itself, and with whomever shows me they deserve to be in this new chapter of my life.

Be compassionate. Do good. And don’t be a dick.