Nobody's Fault but Mine

A journal entry I wrote to gather my thoughts

I’ve been experiencing a range of emotions, knowing there’s a high likelihood I’ll be transitioning to a stay-at-home dad role soon.

I have enjoyed fathering my five-year-old daughter and two-year-old son. I can’t begin to comprehend what my life would be like had I not been blessed with them. They’re the funniest people I know. They’re so full of love.

However, I’ve been in my field of work as a Telecom Technician for over thirteen years, and this chapter in my life is seemingly coming to an end. It’s all I’ve known since high school. I’ve been doing this work for almost as long as I’ve been in a relationship with my wife.

Part of me is relieved that I’ll finally have time to attend to my home, children, wife, Substack, and myself. I won’t have to pour so much into work that there’s little left for what truly matters.

Over the past two years, my schedule has done incredible damage to my life:

• my health

• my happiness

• my marriage

• my home

• my children (I reluctantly admit this)

I could add more to this list, but you get the point.

I agreed to the conditions, at least to an extent. I didn’t sign up for the sheer amount of chaos that would ensue, though. And no matter my attempts to negotiate reasonable solutions that would at least accommodate a slightly healthier schedule for myself and my family, I was met with feigned concern and empty promises.

It’s a change that needs to happen. Even if I were to simply pursue an unfamiliar line of work, one that came with a normal seven to three or nine to five schedule, less pay, etc., it would have a near-immediate positive impact on me and my loved ones. I have no real doubts in this regard.

It just feels like a part of me is dying off.

Maybe that part of me died a long time ago. I just failed to create the circumstances to let go. This dead weight — I wasn’t even aware I was carrying it. Every day, I subjected myself to an increasingly destructive way of life. I’d laugh at the very idea of “work-life balance.” This was just a myth, a luxury reserved for people who may not even exist.

Sleep? I came to accept that three hours over two days — with two or three shifts in between — was just my reality. It was just something to get used to. It was what I had to do. Tough it out.

Then, I was graced with a two-week break from the swing shift schedule. Back to days!

I did not truly understand the impact this had had on my general well-being. My physical, mental, and emotional health suffered greatly, but I lacked perspective. I’d spent so long in this windowless dungeon, night after night, “adapting” to the dysfunction. I didn’t understand how awful I really felt enduring this, until about one and a half weeks into being on a day shift schedule again.

The contrast was impossible to overlook. I realized in that moment that I was killing myself, slowly, for someone who seemingly could care less. I was sacrificing time with my kids when I could have been truly present, even if I was physically there — and trading it in for literal shit. I had been causing damage to myself and my loved ones to appease a man who believed he could continue to get away with putting me in this position. It wasn’t even for the paycheck, as the money has never really been the issue, all but the single year surrounding my son’s birth.

My inclination is to internalize and come down on myself for doing this.

That would be unproductive. I am no longer making that choice. I have chosen to remove this dysfunction from the equation, and I feel not an ounce of sympathy for the headache it will undoubtedly create for that man. I do feel for the people who were there alongside me for it all, as they will have to carry that burden now. Yet, at the same time, I don’t. I’ve shifted my intention towards moving forward, not hesitating, keeping my head up and sight focused on the path in front of me, not the life I’m putting behind me.

To quote the great Led Zeppelin, it’s nobody’s fault but mine that things transpired this way. And I know full well, I am responsible for any outcomes going forward.

However, the thought of finally getting a full night’s rest brings me a calm confidence. Each step I take now carries me further from the corpse I chose to leave behind, and closer to the uncertain but hopeful reality I’ve had the agency to create all along.