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Originally written in September 2014 as 'Different Perspective' — Updated for clarity and reflection in 2026.
Over the past year, I’ve been told that I have a lot of baggage.
People have listed it as:
- having two children
- living with my dad, who is seventy‑four
- seeing my children “too much” for a single dad
- living with health issues that affect my mobility
- going to church
- working part‑time when I can
I find that strange, because I don’t see any of this as baggage.
I’m thirty‑two. At my age, it’s expected to have lived a little. That life led me to having two small children. I see them from Sunday morning to Wednesday morning every week — a fifty‑fifty split. It’s not the same as every single dad, but I’m proud of being active and involved, having reached a positive co-parenting relationship. Home schooling means William spends more time with me, but I believe it’s the best choice for him and for James.
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| [Image 2. From left to right, myself smiling, wearing a stripped t-shirt and green hoody, William smiling wearing a blue jumper, and James smiling wearing a blue jumper] |
Living with Dad might seem unusual for a man my age, yet after Mum passed away he needed company and support. Moving in together helped him heal and gave the boys a stronger relationship with their grandad. It also gave me stability after many difficult years and a deeper bond with him.
Working part‑time fits around family life. My time is divided, but I still manage to support my children, help Dad, and keep a social life. Church is part of that balance too. You don’t have to share my faith to understand it — just don’t make assumptions about me because of it. I've been called to a vocation that I can't ignore.
Then there’s my health. Yes, mobility is a challenge, but I don’t need care or support. I see that as something positive. Despite my health issues, I raise my boys, work, help my father, and stay social. That’s not baggage — that’s resilience.
My so‑called baggage is simply my life. The older I get, the more life I carry. It’s normal. Instead of judging it, look at what I do despite it. Respect that. Respect the man in front of you. This is my life — imperfect, busy, and full — but it’s mine, and I’m happy with it.
If you can look past the labels and see the person, ask questions and get to know me. Too many people stop at the surface. If you can move past the awkward bits, you might find someone decent and like‑minded. Life would be dull if we all looked like clones.
2026 Reflection
Reading this again, I can see how defensive I was — not angry, just tired of being misunderstood. Back then, I was still proving that my life wasn’t broken, just different. I was a few years in to recovery and my mental health climb. I was managing the diagnosis of a personality disorder. One that didn't fit me. Now, I see that difference as strength. The things once called baggage became the foundation of my writing and advocacy. They shaped my voice as a single dad, a home‑educator, and a disability advocate. I managed to eventually find someone who accepted me for me, happily took on my baggage, and would eventually marry me. My life changed. I understood my health, deapite being significantly worse now. I manage and understand my mental health so much better. My church life has become a vocation. Dad's life got significantly harder before he passed away. I protected him through dementia, helped after his stroke, and cared through his cancer diagnosis. Living with him, fixing our relationship, and growing together more, allowed me to be the son he needed.
If you're interested more in my story, click here.
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