There are parts of my childhood I carry carefully—not because they define me, but because I don't want to pass them on.
One of the clearest is physical punishment.
Growing up, my father was physically abusive. Not constantly, and not without influence. Most of the discipline came from my stepmother's voice, filtered through his authority. She decided. He carried it out.
I learned early what it felt like when correction crossed into fear.
So I avoid corporal punishment at all costs.
When Familiar Voices Return
What's unsettling is how familiar the situation feels now.
My mother encourages it.
Tells me I should be stricter.
Insists that physical discipline is necessary.
It's strange how history circles back like that—same advice, different generation.
But I've learned that just because something is familiar doesn't mean it's right.
I'm not interested in repeating a cycle just because it survived long enough to be called tradition.
Work as a Distraction I Learned Well
Another pattern I'm actively breaking is overworking.
My father worked constantly. Providing meant absence. Love was expressed through long hours and exhaustion.
And for a long time, I followed that same script.
But about eight months ago, something shifted. I decided to work less and be present more. Not as a performance. Not to impress anyone. But because I genuinely enjoy being with my children.
That decision hasn't gone unquestioned.
When Growth Is Misinterpreted
My mother believes I'm only spending time with my kids because I've been seeing Eve. That I'm "showing off." That the change is external, not internal.
But that's not the truth.
I've taken my kids places without Eve. I've made intentional space just for them. I've felt the difference—not just in them, but in myself.
This isn't about appearances.
It's about alignment.
I'm finally choosing time over productivity. Presence over approval.
The Gap I'm Still Figuring Out
If I'm being honest, I know there's still work to do.
I struggle with how to connect with my older two. I don't exclude them intentionally—I just don't always know how to include them.
They're at an age where simple outings don't land in the same way. Where connection requires effort, curiosity, and sometimes awkward trial and error.
That uncertainty doesn't excuse inaction—but it explains hesitation.
So I'm learning. Slowly. Imperfectly.
Choosing Differently, Even When It's Lonely
"The righteousness of the righteous will be credited to them." — Ezekiel 18:20
That verse reminds me that I'm not bound to repeat what came before me.
I can choose a different response.
A different rhythm.
A different definition of discipline, work, and love.
Breaking patterns isn't loud. It doesn't always earn support. Sometimes it's misunderstood.
But fatherhood isn't about reenacting the past—it's about interrupting it.
And even when I'm unsure, even when I'm still learning, I know this much:
I'm choosing a better way on purpose.