It was the first day of the school holidays. My son and I ate breakfast, dropped my wife at work, came home, and decided to start the day building Legos. When we finished the masterpiece we'd worked so hard on, we both stood up, chest bumped, and sat back down.
Then I looked at my watch. It was 9:35 in the morning.
And I thought to myself, what on earth are we going to do for the next eight hours?
That's dad life for me now. Real connection, and still plenty of moments where I'm out of my depth. It took a lot of honest work on my own mental health to get here.
What kind of dad did I want to be?
I was never someone who was dying to have kids. I grew up with incredible parents who worked hard to give me an amazing childhood, real opportunities, and a chance to see the world. That shaped who I am today. I know how lucky I am. I always said that if I ever had kids, I'd want to give them the same. But nobody goes into social work thinking they're going to hit it big, so I honestly assumed I wouldn't have children.
Then I met my wife, and my mind changed. Not because the worry about providing the way my parents did went away. It didn't. But I realized I could raise a child with the same values and heart I was given, even without the money, especially having her as my partner.
When I actually found out I was going to be a dad, I had dreams of teaching my son how to hit a fastball and catch a touchdown. I wanted to teach him life lessons and how to be a kind, respectful, and loving person.
What I really wanted, if I'm honest, was for him to respect me. To think I was a good dad. To think I was fun. To think I was fair. But like a lot of well-intentioned plans, the world had other ideas about how this would go.
What happened after my son was born?
The first day or two in the hospital felt like a dream. Family and friends came by to meet him. I posted a photo on Instagram with a fun caption. I did complain to my wife about how uncomfortable the hospital couch was. She politely reminded me that she had just pushed a human out of her body, and that if I knew what was good for me, I'd stop complaining about the soft mattress. Besides that minor misunderstanding, everything felt exactly the way everyone tells you it will.
Then reality set in.
Everyone tells you this is the greatest moment of your life, and in a lot of ways it was. But I was also exhausted, anxious, and had zero idea how to do anything with this tiny human I was somehow now fully responsible for. I remember holding him in a rocking chair at 3am, after two hours of nightmare-filled sleep, thinking, "Holy hell, I can't do this." Then I'd go to work or talk to family and friends and tell them how amazing everything was.
The truth is, it wasn't. I live with POTS, which leaves me exhausted to begin with. Add new-parent stress, no sleep, an awful diet, no exercise, and getting a daily dose of pee shot at me by an incredibly cute little kiddo, and it isn't exactly a recipe for bliss.
I never once doubted that I loved my son. But because I was struggling so much mentally, I felt guilty that I wasn't the stereotypical dad saying, "This is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me." I thought, "Oh mother of pearl, I'm a bad father."
A lot of dads carry this kind of dad guilt and never share it. Around the birth of a child, roughly one in ten fathers experience depression. And lucky me, I was one of them.
Parents in general feel guilty admitting how much they lose when a baby arrives, like freedom, financial security, and a social life. Mothers go through far more, carrying a baby for nine months and recovering long after. Not to mention the constant commentary from society about what it means to be a good mom. The truth was, I kind of missed my old life, but if I said that out loud, I felt like a terrible father.
And yet, despite all those moments of doubt, anxiety, and frustration, I can't imagine my life without my son. He really is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, in so many ways. He gave me a new perspective on my own mortality and my purpose in life. And he's the funniest, sweetest, and kindest human I know.
So I lived in two worlds at the same time. I was mourning my health, my sleep, and my freedom, while also being totally in love with being his dad. In the beginning, I didn't want to share the hard side with anyone, out of fear it would make me look bad. Eventually, that silence turned me into the parent I never wanted to be.
What happens when your mental health shows up in your parenting?
As my son got older, still quite young, I started to see that he could tell I wasn't always showing up for him.
One day he came home with a homework assignment to describe each person in our family with one word. Mum was beautiful and amazing (she got two, of course). The cat was cute. And Dad was... angry.
That was the moment things changed for me. I had been so focused on trying to be a good dad that I was actually falling short. I wasn't taking care of myself. I was bringing my own anger, anxiety, and depression into my parenting, and it was showing up in ways that made my son see me the way I never wanted him to.
That isn't unusual for men. Depression and anxiety in men often show up as irritability, anger, or fatigue rather than sadness, which makes it easy to miss, even in yourself. And kids feel it. A meta-analysis in JAMA Network Open linked more severe depression in fathers to a higher risk of depression in their children.
What changed when I finally asked for help?
After that homework assignment, I started talking to a therapist. I needed someone who could understand me, but who would also challenge me to work on myself, so I wasn't the dad that one-word answer described. I also started telling friends and family what I was struggling with. Putting my wellness ahead of my ego turned out to matter more than looking like I had it all together.
Slowly, I saw that my relationship with my son, while still great, wasn't as great as it could be. That was because of me, not anyone else, and it was up to me to fix it. After all, he's seven. I needed to stop taking everything he said so personally.
One time I told him his shoes were on the wrong feet, and he shot back, "I wish you were never my father!" Some might call that an overreaction. I still walked away hurt and angry. But that wasn't what he actually felt. He was frustrated because, yet again, I was telling him he was doing something wrong, even though I meant well. I had to start seeing things from his side, instead of focusing only on my own pain from a seven-year-old throwing verbal grenades at me.
What do kids actually need from their dad?
All my son wants is a present father. Someone who will sit with him and play with him, not correct him all the time or try to steer him away from every mistake. He wants to be himself, not who I want him to be. He wants to jump on me and play tackle football in the living room, not necessarily go pay 50 euros at some fancy kids' place.
The good news is that kids don't need a perfect dad. Research by developmental psychologist Ed Tronick found that even in healthy relationships, parents and babies are only in sync about 30% of the time. The lesson holds as kids grow. What builds a secure bond isn't getting it right. It's coming back after you get it wrong. Something as simple as "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. That wasn't about you" does more than a hundred perfectly planned outings.
How can you become the dad you want to be?
So, can you be a good dad when you're not okay? Yes. But not by pretending you're okay. Your kids just want you. The real you. The healthy you. The you that isn't taking your own stuff out on them.
That's why taking fathers' mental health seriously matters so much. Not because you're a bad dad, but because you deserve to feel better, and your kids deserve the version of you that does. If you're raising kids far from home, without family nearby to tag in when you're running on empty, it's even more important not to carry it all alone.
It can start small. Notice when you're about to snap. Repair when you do. Put the phone down for twenty minutes of tackle football. And talk to someone about what's underneath the anger.
If any of this sounds familiar, book a free 15-minute consultation. We can figure out what's weighing on you together, judgment free. And if a desk and a chair sound like too much, a Walk & Talk might be an easier way in.
And if someone in your life came to mind while you were reading this, feel free to send it his way.
I'm a U.S.-licensed social worker with 17 years of experience, and I work in English with men, dads, and expats in The Hague.
If things feel heavier than that, 113 is free and available 24/7 at 113 or 0800-0113, with an English chat on 113.nl. You'll also find more options on my Mental Health Resources page.
Sources
How depression shows up in men: ADAA, Men's Mental Health
Fathers' depression and children: JAMA Network Open meta-analysis, summarized by The Hippocratic Post
Attunement and repair: Circle of Security International, 30% is Good Enough Parenting
Depression in mothers and fathers after birth: Paulson and Bazemore meta-analysis in JAMA, summarized by MDedge