A Confession

Originally written in November 2014 as 'Confession"— Updated for clarity and reflection in 2026.

Confession time.

I struggle being a dad.  

I struggle being a single dad.  

I struggle being a stay‑at‑home dad.

It sounds silly, although it is true. I called this post "A Confession" not to lure you in with some dark secret, but because I wanted to admit something I find incredibly difficult to say.

Two weeks ago everything hit at once. The boys were at those brilliant but intense ages where they wanted to do everything, be part of everything, and push every boundary. They wanted to test my voice so they could find their own. It was a week of pure chaos.

I had the boys for longer than usual that month. William refused to do more than the bare minimum in home education. James woke several times every night. Both boys pushed back on everything I said, often with a side order of rudeness and disobedience. James emptied a bottle of talcum powder across the floor because he wanted to make footprints in the snow. He also dipped his whole hand into Sudocrem and decorated me and the furniture. They both developed a new habit of making high‑pitched noises for no reason. They also had head lice.

This sat on top of a difficult week personally and at work. Everything landed at once, as it always seems to.

Parenting felt like doing the same task a hundred times. Getting out the door took forty minutes because one child put on a coat while the other suddenly lost a shoe. Apparently fastening a coat invites the shoe fairy to strike.

By the end of the week I went to my church group. They asked how I was. I opened my mouth and felt tears rising before I even finished the first sentence. I told them everything. Then I felt awful. I was convinced they would think I was a terrible father who could not cope.

They didn’t. They nodded, smiled, and even laughed in places. Not at me, but because they recognised every moment. They shared their own stories of exhaustion and tears. They told me they admired me, especially because I was disabled, single, and without someone to tag‑team with when things got rough. They gave advice and pushed that I took a break, and stop being so stubborn. 

Nevertheless, I still felt ashamed. I have spent years dealing with comments about being a man in childcare, a male teacher, a nursery worker, a parent, and especially a single dad. Some women in the past have said things that cut deep. You tell yourself you can shake it off, although little pieces sink in. You just end up fighting a male/female parental stereotypes or justifying your presence when the system questions where mum is. 

Sometimes it feels almost expected that a man will fail when looking after his children, especially as a single parent. Something will probably go wrong. There are hundreds of single dads, newly single or long term single, with full custody, shared custody, or weekend contact, who feel alone and isolated. Many do not want to share their difficulties because they do not want to look like a failure or admit they are struggling. Some honestly do not know who to talk to.

I am lucky that I have good friends and a church community. Some dads do not. Even with my friends I was worried. I was scared to think what might happen to my access to my children if I admitted something as simple and as serious as this. Sometimes I struggle.

The truth is this. It does not matter if you are a single dad, a single mum, or part of a couple. Parenting is hard. We all have bad weeks. Holding it in only adds shame. Not admitting that you have struggled to cope makes the weight heavier.

We have all been there. We are human. I want to be Superman and do everything with my kids even when I can't, although there is only so much we can do before we reach the point of exhaustion and upset.

Do you have bad weeks? Do you struggle to cope? Single parent or part of a couple, I would love to hear your comments below.

2026 Reflection

Reading this again in 2026 feels like opening a time capsule from a version of myself who was carrying far more fear than he ever admitted. I can see how exhausted I was, how much me time in needed, although the exhaustion was not the real story. The real story was the pressure I felt to prove myself as a single dad, a disabled parent, making sure the kids didn't carry that weight, and a man in a role people still quietly judge. I thought struggling meant failing. I thought saying it out loud might risk my access to the boys. That fear shaped so much of how I parented in those early years.

I look back now with more compassion for that man. He was doing everything he could with very little support and a huge amount of responsibility. He was also trying to unlearn years of comments, stereotypes, and assumptions about what dads can or cannot do. Those comments sink in even when you think they do not.

Parenting is still hard in 2026, especially now my health has progressed, although it is different now. The boys are older. The challenges have changed. I have changed too. I talk more openly about burnout, disability, and the mental health of single parenting. I also understand that struggling does not make you unsafe or unfit. It makes you human. That is something I wish I could have told myself in 2014.

If you want to see how this journey developed, you might want to read some of my more recent posts about parenting through disability, faith and family life, and the emotional load of raising teenagers. Those posts show the growth that followed the chaos of these early years. They also show that the fear I carried then does not define the parent I am now.

To read more about our family life click here. You can also read more about me here.