There be Dragons Here!

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Thanks for coming back. Before we head out too far down the road, I want to address a comment I made last week regarding the “tremendous hardships” a hero must overcome. The Hero’s Journey is a story archetype with a specific type of Arc. Kurt Vonnegut referred to it as the Man in the Hole – because the hero must move from a normal everyday state and fall into a state of being tested – sometimes failing, but ultimately (if strong enough) climbing out and slaying the dragon in epic fashion. Transformation requires sacrifice.

SAHDs are the heroes of our story. I want to reemphasize, though, that this life isn’t for everyone. This journey will change and redirect you. There is no map. You will get lost. You will be forced to sacrifice and concede. It’s the most difficult job you will ever have. And the most rewarding.

This week’s post is for those of you who are considering being a SAHD. It’s a warning. You will absolutely be biting off more than you can chew. Your decisions will not only impact you and your partner. They will leave indelible impressions on your children – good or bad. Proceed carefully.

To those of you already SAHDing – I see you!

Some Context

I’ve been a SAHD for about three years now, and to be clear, I have zero regrets. My father traveled a lot when I was young. At first, because he had to. We were poor. Hubris came knocking one day, though, and swept him away for more time than a young boy could want (that’s a story for another day). That was his gig, and we were just taken along for the ride.

I promised that things would be different for my son – born in 2019 at thirty-six weeks and just under seven pounds.

I’ve been by his side almost every day since then. He slept on my chest for his first three months, slept between his mom and me for a bit longer than he should have (there is another story here), and as of last night, still lays his head on my shoulder whenever he feels unsafe.

My son is the greatest gift I’ve ever received. I am grateful to my wife for carrying him through a difficult pregnancy and an even more difficult birth. She is a great partner and pushes me towards the new and the challenging – sometimes a bit too hard. We fell in love in California when I was a workaholic with fucked up priorities – always dreaming of a day I could grab a cloud by the tail and fly. We decided to have a baby in Ireland, got married in Thailand, and moved to Europe. She is an inspiration and the second-strongest person I’ve ever known.

My son is a musician, choosing to communicate through nursery rhymes and Peter Gabriel songs. The doctors say he has autism. We say he has superpowers.

Together we are adventurers. Pirates in our own way. Seeking whatever treasures life has to offer. We’ve dipped our toes in the Baltic, walked the ruins of Ancient Rome, seen Zebras in Texas, been to the emergency room more times than I care to count, picked an African porcupine quill out of a too-tempting pen in Prague, and white-knuckled our way through Yankee Boy Basin in our topless Jeep.

You Don’t Always Get What (You Think) You Want!

Life throws you curve balls. Sometimes they’re gifts that get you on base quickly and one step closer to home plate. Other times they fool you and kick you back to the dugout. Matthew McConaughey refers to these as green-light, yellow-light, or red-light moments. They define us. They build us up and tear us down. Recognizing them is important.

I’d recommend you download and listen to McConaughey’s book Greenlights (Most SAHD’s don’t have time or bandwidth to read a book from cover to cover). The book is a perspective shifter.

A big yellow-light moment for me happened in the spring of 2017. My wife (girlfriend at the time) and I decided to move in together. California is an expensive place to live, and cohabitation would save us close to $2,000 each month. She agreed to adopt my dog, and I agreed to take in her 16-year-old son.

My job, at the time, required a minimum of 50-hour work weeks and a tether to the company cellphone. My evening workout routine included back-to-back Krav Maga and Jiu-Jitsu classes. Dinner typically included whiskey drinks and a salad at the local tavern. An average weekend included a trip into the city for breakfast muffins, and whatever the hell else I wanted to do. I didn’t have time for new complications, but I did it anyway.

One day, during a Sunday breakfast at the Lazy Dog, I received a work call that pulled me away from the table. My new family waited for close to an hour for me to return. They were rightfully upset when I returned to the table. I chewed on my cold breakfast pizza, sucked down my watered-down Bloody Mary, and half-heartedly apologized – Strike One.

I had been presented with the opportunity to change and be better, but I failed to recognize the signs. I wasn’t ready.

In late 2017 I accepted a job across the country. They chose to follow along. We packed up, bought a 1988 Sprinter RV on a whim, and set out for Georgia – three adults, a mutt, and a wily Siamese. We christened the RV Sunflower. On a cold night in New Mexico, we discovered that the heater didn’t work. The prior owners had bypassed the heater coil, which had fused together as a black brick. We pressed on. A fuel line caught fire near Amarillo the next morning while I was trying to change out the main battery. The radiator blew a hose two days later. We made it to Georgia the day before I was to start my new job and five days later than we had planned. Sunflower sighed and came to a permanent stop in the parking lot of the Homewood Suites in Atlanta. Welcome to Georgia!

I began my new job the next day, a promotion to Regional Director covering six states. I hated almost every moment of it. My family found themselves sitting at too many dinner tables, watching me pace while my food grew cold. I spent too many nights in hotel rooms, wondering what good would come of things – Strike Two.

By August 2018, I realized that my stepson would never want to get a job because… well, why would he? I was a terrible role model.

With a lowered head, I apologized to him and my wife (sincerely this time) and promised to be better. We had a baby in the oven and needed the insurance, though – Foul Ball.

Change will grab you whether you want it to or not. We get sick. We get fired. Our parents die. But, we choose how we react to those moments. I was laid off in 2020, along with 250 others. I received a decent severance package that would cover us for several months – Another curve ball.

The happiest I’ve ever been, outside of the birth of my son, was traveling across the country in that ticking bomb. Hitting the road doesn’t sound like a bad option, I thought.

While my former peers worked hard to find the same types of jobs, I decided to do things differently. Our son was six months old, and we had money in the bank. We became nomads. We bought a fifth wheel on a whim and set out on a journey across the US – baby strapped, dog in the back, and top down. It was May 17^th. We became consultants and worked remotely. In Utah, my wife accepted a government contract that would take us to Europe. On November 8^th we landed in Germany.

This time things would be different. I would break my father’s cycle and keep my promises. I was presented with the opportunity to change and be better.  I took it – Swing! Crack! First Base!

Not everyone has the same opportunity to break away. We all have different needs and tethers – family, jobs, school, and others. Not everyone wants to travel. Some are perfectly ok with where they are. We all have dreams, though.

What SAHD’s have in common is that they’ve read the signs and made the decision to break the rules. They’ve chosen to go against the grain and raise their kids. Rather than follow the current, they’ve chosen to buck the system and find an alternate route. They’ve made it to first base. Now what?

I can’t pretend to understand everyone’s situation, but I can confidently assert that SAHD’s will swing and miss more often than they wish. But they show up and don’t stop swinging.

The Man In the Mirror

There were a few things my wife loved about me when we first started dating. She loved the way I dressed – colorful shirts, fitted suits, and great shoes. She’d listen and laugh as I told stories about random nothingness over dinner.

Things are different these days. Staring in the mirror, I see a fat-ass with dark circles under his eyes. I wear sweatpants with holes in the crotch regularly. Our conversations are about practical things – school, bills, shitty diapers, and laundry. She works days while I handle home and the little one. I work nights while she does bath time and reads bedtime stories.

There are dozens of articles online highlighting SAHD struggles and offering suggestions to help manage them. What I’ve found is that they focus on labeling rather than relating. Many of the recommendations in these articles, while well-intended, fall short. It’s not that the advice is bad. It’s typically sound. More often than not, though, they expose the tender bits SAHDs are trying to hide or manage.

Isolation. Loss of identity. Social stigmas. Depression. These issues are universal but are compounded for SAHDs. One of the challenges of taking the different path is that there are fewer travelers heading in the same direction. It’s difficult for many people to build friendships as they get older, but SAHDs inhabit a much smaller population. Going to the bar to watch a game is almost impossible. Going to the park and hanging out with the moms is weird for everyone. Finding a local SAHD pod isn’t easy – especially in more remote areas. Joining online groups is mostly depressing as they are filled with stories about divorce, cheating spouses, judgmental family members, and so on. We don’t need any more insecurities. Looking in the mirror every morning is crushing enough.

This journey can be rough on the soul. We all have dreams. We all want to play. We all want some type of success. We all want something that is just ours and are nostalgic about the times we had something. I don’t know how the June Cleavers of the past managed it, but they deserve a tip of the hat for sure.

How often do you reflect on the reasons, the real ones, that brought you to this place where you are standing now? Were they intrinsically motivated? Were they financial? Did you have no other choice? As I said earlier, your choices will leave impressions on your children, good or bad, that will follow them throughout their lives. Resentment, jealousy and anger have no place here.

SAHDs are grateful. We want our partners and children to win. They’re the reason we work so hard.

As I said earlier, I have ZERO regrets. My sons love me. My wife still loves me. Even though we fight more often than we should, we’re still nomads bouncing between continents. I’m in way over my head and trying to keep up – swinging for the fences everyday like so many of you do.

Travel safely folks, I hope to meet you on the road!

Please feel free to share your thoughts and stories in the comments area. Knowing we aren’t alone can sometimes help us through a rougher day.