I became a father for the first time at 6:01pm on Monday 22/08/22. 51cm and 3.3 Australian kilograms of MAN. Fuckin’ cracker of a date to remember. When ya add the two’s up , they equal 8. So there’s a little nugget of shit you can do what you want with.
I want to stress that this blog is not and will not be a typical new dad flooded with dopamine waffling on about how he has “never felt a love like this before”. Whilst that may be true, there’s enough of that shit floating around on the internet and frankly, we don’t need any more of it. They say having children is the most extraordinary thing and ordinary thing you will ever do. We all have parents. Most of us are or will be parents. It’s very fuckin’ normal. Who gives a shit.
Why The Secrecy?
A lot of people who read this know me from twitter and other socials. I haven’t mentioned any of this on Social Media. I won’t be sharing intimate details about my partner, our relationship or my son. The internet is an amazing place, but it’s also a cesspit. I talk about some dark shit here. Some “adult themes” too, I guess. These details are also irrelevant to the purpose of this blog. So I refuse to tarnish the name or reputation of anybody else with my words.
Those familiar with me know I have no issue with sharing intimate details about myself, my mental health and other senseless dribble. In fact, a lot of people probably think I overshare, but whatever. I just refuse to potentially hinder someones future through no fault of their own. Kevin Hart recently got ‘cancelled’ because of a tweet he made over ten years ago. He is one of many people to find themselves in hot water over something published online years earlier. I couldn’t live with myself if I mentioned someones name in a blog and it had some kind of negative repercussions for them later in life.
This blog is going to be about me, because I’m an arrogant prick! I jest. This is going to be an honest account of how I navigate my way through the challenges of fatherhood while trying to maintain my sobriety, manage my mental health and try to find the time to do all the things I have been doing so far to look after myself.
Ultimately, the intricate details are nobodies business. In a world of camera phones and social media, I think it’s important that all of us keep some things sacred. I hope that’s understood and respected.
ADHD
As some, many, most, I dunno? May know, I’ve struggled on and off with my mental health for all of my adult life. After years of misdiagnosis and trial periods on different medications, some of which did nothing, some of which made things worse, I was diagnosed and medicated for ADHD at 27 years old (7 years ago). This almost instantly improved my life. As I adjusted more and more to the medication, did more research into my condition and found coping mechanisms that worked for me my life started heading in the direction I’d always wanted it to head in.
For me, the ADHD I didn’t know I had always felt like I was standing on an island. There was another island only 10 meters away. A much better island. With cool shit. The island I was on was a mess. Nothing worked properly. It all kinda worked, it worked enough but it was inefficient, unsustainable and just fucking frustrating. The other island, which i could see clearly, has it’s shit together. Things worked. Things were orderly and efficient. It was just better. It’s where I wanted to be. So, why not just swim across the water to the other island? Well, in this metaphor, both island are raised, and I have no legs, or arms, the water is full of sharks and crocodiles. Whatever, let’s just say it wasn’t possible to get to the other island even though I could see it clearly. Dextroamphetamine didn’t come along a drop a perfectly stable bridge from one island to the other with Black Hawk Helicopters. It dropped provided me with the tools to turn me into a lumberjack. Rampaging around the island chopping tree’s down so I could slowly build my own bridge from the island I was on to the island I wanted to be on. At the moment I would say that I am on the other island. I haven’t been on it for long though. I’m not well established. I’m sleeping in a yurt while trying to figure out how I’m going to build me a house! I don’t know how long or what it will take for me to be fully satisfied on the new island. What is important is that I’m on it and things are already infinitely better and I am on the correct trajectory…
Depression
Things were going well. I ticked off a major goal of mine in May 2020 by becoming a homeowner. Something I'd always wanted to do but never thought possible due to being fucking hopeless with money. Turns out, most people with ADHD are bad with money. Shout out Dex.
Finally becoming a home owner coincided with the first of what would be many COVID-19 lock downs. At least I was locking down in my own house. Initially it wasn’t too bad. I built a green house and a stack of veggie gardens with automated smart irrigation systems. If rain was forecast, sprinklers wouldn’t come on. Same for when/if there was a frost. Flash!
I didn’t realize at the time time but as COVID case numbers rose and lock downs extended, and fucking extended my mental health got incrementally worse. At the time I just kind of thought, “of course it is, this sucks, everyone is struggling”. I don’t know why but somehow I thought that justified me doing nothing about it. I was seeing a psychologist for some time but she had a couple of weeks off, I was meant to re-book, then something happened at work, yada yada, no more psych. In hindsight, I wasn’t being completely honest with her, I never lied to her, but I certainly withheld information that would’ve helped her to paint a more accurate picture of my situation. Obviously I wasn’t ready to be. So probably not a bad thing that I was no longer wasting her and my time.
Fast forward to 3am Tuesday the 19th of April this year. I’m drunk, real drunk. Three out of the four previous nights had been massive. I’d spent over $2000 partying since the previous Thursday. It was at this point where the fatigue of lying to myself for the last two or so years became too much. I broke down in a blubbering mess. Fortunately, my partner was there. For me though,the thing about depression is that we work so fucking hard at convincing/lying to ourselves that we’re okay that it just fucking drains you. I couldn’t do it anymore. I don’t think I was at risk of suicide that night but I have always held a fear of suicide. Like I don’t trust myself if I was ever in a situation where some of those thoughts became overwhelming. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I am scared that one day I might just do it and I won’t be able to stop myself. Like I am acutely aware of it, its gravity and permanence. This night, the fear was that if I do this to myself again, I might just do it.
Sobriety
I decided then and there that I needed to be sober. Not forever, not even for long, just for as long as I needed to be to sort my shit out. I’ve been sober since and been documenting my sobriety and mental health journey over at the below link.
I still have no set time frame for how long I want to be sober for. For me, they make things harder. they add an element of pressure. If your boss gives you a task and says “ok, you can either take as long as you want with this or I need it done by this afternoon” which option sounds more stressful. That said, I’ve done myself no favours. I decided that while waiting the arrival of my child I’d change jobs within the company I work for. Move two hours away, rent my house out, get mortgaged up to my eye balls by buying another house, brokers, solicitors and all that really cool and fun stuff. So if you’re after advice on eliminating stress from your life, maybe look elsewhere. This is what ADHD people do sometimes. The good thing is, it’s all done now.
Time specific targets are stressful. I am stressed enough. Why would we want to make a difficult thing more difficult. My goal is to just not drink for now. Maybe one day I will feel as though I can enjoy a beer without having a blow out. At the moment though, my life, in all aspects, is drastically better for being sober. So until I get to a point where I feel like alcohol can add to my life and not detract from it, I’ll be doing all I can to remain sober.
Being My Son’s Dad
My son is… a little fuckin’ ripper. He’s been just about perfect in the almost week I’ve known him. He’s so chilled out. Even the midwives were amazed at how nonchalant he is. Apart from some mild tummy discomfort when the milk changed about three days in, he’s been perfect. I’m not religious in any way, but I do kind of believe in the universe. He was born in Canberra because that’s where the midwife and better hospital was. I wanted the best care for him and his mum. It’s been stressful staying with family, living out of bags etc. It’s almost as though he knows it was a less than perfect situation so he’s doing his bit by being a little legend until everything settles back down.
I’m not naive to the fact that things won’t always be like this. Things will get hard and given the state of my mental health recently I need remain conscious of the fact I am higher than average risk of Men’s Postnatal Depression. I’m probably more afraid of this than any other mental health issue I’ve dealt with in the past because there’s someone else to consider. Children need their parents in their formative years more than any other time. Sure, he might need me desperately to pay his bail in 18 years, or pick him up from a nightclub at 4am because he spent his last money on a Smirnoff Double Black for a girl he liked the look of. But this period, right now and in the coming years are vital for forming connection. So for me, I need to find a balance between finding the time to look after myself, ensure I am in the best place I can be mentally so that I can be the best version of myself for him. I know it’s going to be difficult at times. His routine will change regularly. I’m a stickler for routine. I lean on it heavily to manage my ADHD and in turn my mental health. I’ve worked really hard to form the habits I have and they can be undone so quickly. I have no idea how I’m going to manage this. I need to do what’s good for me, otherwise I’m no good to anyone. I also need to be with him to form those connections. Sadly, I also need to fucking work so he can eat. The scariest part though is the unknown. Things that are difficult to navigate are always that little bit easier with notice. You can plan and prepare for them. In this instance, I don’t have a fuckin’ clue what I’m doing. I’m relying on him teaching me what to do. I can’t plan or prepare for what stage is next because I don’t know what’s next for him. Sure there is some general literature around the stages newborns go to, I think we’re onto poo type number three, but we are all so different in so many ways. I’m just going to have to be observant. Make note of his habits as he settle, then adjust my life around that accordingly, which is also scary.
This Blog Moving Forward
My writing has always been about dumping shit out of my head, to clear space to allow me to think. It’s worked wonders for my sobriety. My plan for this blog is to say things that I have been thinking but am too scared to say. If he’s having a bad day and I feel like grabbing him like a Steeden and throwing a right to left spiral cut out pass into the neighbors back yard, I’m going to say that. I want to be able to talk about the things that are hard. People are uncomfortable talking about just how difficult it can be and because “ooohhh they’re just so adorable!”.
I guess I’m being proactive by setting myself up with a space I can come to and vent my frustrations so I can get them out and they don’t impact him.
I want to talk about the impacts the sleep deprivation have on my mood. What i do when he decides to start crying hysterically for a solid 6 hours for no known reason. I don’t want to create a space that you leave feeling worse for having come here. Ironically I liken it to when someone close to you passes away. For the first week its pandemonium. People flying back in from interstate, rushing around arranging the funeral, organizing a wake. Once the wake is over though, you wake up hungover the next day and it hits you. Like, “fuck, this is real and it sucks”.
In time, Grandparents will visit and help less. People will come over, hold him, tell you that you need to do everything the exact same way they did… 35 fuckin’ years ago, cross the visit off their to-do list, all the excitement will wear off. Sounds horrible, but it’s human nature.
All good are the result of hard work. hard work is… hard. It’s stressful. I can barely be trusted to look after myself. I look under the couch cushion for my phone while I’m texting someone. I’m fuckin’ hopeless, and now I’ve been given the responsibility of caring for another human who can only sleep, cry, shit and suck tiddies.
So this is where I’m going to talk openly and honestly about the hard shit, the dark shit and the baby shit (poo type four soon).
Anyway, heaps of people have kids. It’s normal.
Who gives a shit?
Congratulations Sam and Mrs Sam and welcome to the 'hood. I love the way you write, open and honest and as if I'm in the room. Enjoying reading through past posts and looking forward to connnecting on w4R!
Congrats mate! Welcome to Dad life and like sobriety, you just gotta take it one day at a time. This road is looonnnnggggg