Good Enough Fatherhood

Sometimes I don’t feel like a good enough father.

I look at my life — I’m still overweight, I don’t have a traditional job, I’m not exactly the picture of stability the world tends to paint when it comes to parenthood. I catch myself thinking things like, “Is this the example I’m setting?” And it stings.

That voice — the one that asks those questions — is the critical parent in me. It’s the part that remembers all the times I fell short, all the times I hoped for support and didn’t get it, all the times I thought love was something I had to earn. It’s the part that doesn’t believe a different story is possible, because so far, the evidence has been thin.

But here’s the truth I’m starting to let in — slowly, gently, with practice:

I am working toward something.
I’m two years away from being qualified as a counsellor.
And I will be very good at it — not in spite of my journey, but because of it.
I’ll know how to sit with people because I’ve learned to sit with myself.

I also make money from poker — not just a hobby, but a legitimate skill I’ve cultivated through patience, analysis, and emotional regulation. Between the two — counselling and poker — I’m building a life that fits me. One I don’t have to escape from.

More than that:
I’ve started to create a foundation of secure connection.
Something I never had. Something I didn’t even know how to name until therapy showed me.
And I’m learning to carry that out into the world — to meet people from a place of grounded self-respect instead of need.

I may not have it all figured out.
But I have something I never did before:
a deep sense of self-respect that can’t be overturned.

I’m proud of that.
And I’m proud of myself for being able to say that out loud.

Because even just a few years ago, I would’ve stopped at the criticism. I would’ve let that voice run the show. But now I let it speak — and then I speak back.

I’m not a perfect parent. No one is.
And given where I’ve come from — what I’ve carried — I think being a good enough parent is not only enough…
It’s extraordinary.

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I don’t always feel like I’m doing well.
But feelings aren’t facts.
And when I look at my son — at the calm in our home, at the way I talk to him, sit with him, protect him, repair with him — I know I’m doing something powerful.

Something I never received.
Something that is healing both of us, day by day.

And maybe that’s what fatherhood really is —
Not a flawless performance,
But a commitment to keep showing up,
Even when you’re still learning how to love yourself.

That’s what I’m doing.
And it’s enough.

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