10. Stay in the Fight
Parenthood. Sobriety. Messy mornings. Small victories.
⏱️ Read time: 5 minutes
I used to be a morning person.
That’s when my mind is clear, before t
he day's noise sets in.
Early mornings are when I get. shit. done.
At least they used to be.
Now I’m a father of two young girls — one of whom shares a bed with me.
At her age, she can’t wake up on her own without a full blown meltdown.
So I try to the household a favor — mostly my wife — and stay in bed with her until she finally opens her eyes so I can be there to try to calm the morning madness.
Sometimes it’s 7:30 or even 8:30.
But I’ve been awake since sunrise, lying there, thinking about how my to-do list slipping away — with work, with exercise, with everything.
This is just one of the many ways my life has been parenthood-adjusted.
I wish I could sit here and say,
"Oh, parenthood is just the absolute greatest thing in the world."
Nope. Not today.
Sometimes it drives me absolutely insane.
Don’t get me wrong: raising children is the most important thing I’ll ever do.
I care a lot about the world we live in — and I’m doing my best to raise my girls to leave it a little better than they found it.
And I enjoy it, I really do. I have my girls to thank for the most precious, heartwarming moments of my life.
But dammit — sometimes I just don’t have it in me to say yes to every ask, every want, every so-called need.
I’m not talking about food, water, shelter, or diaper changes.
I’m talking about the endless battle for attention.
The need to pull every piece of Tupperware out of the drawer.
The need to interrupt every single conversation I have with my wife.
The need to be seen, heard, held — every second.
I love them more than anything.
But sometimes I miss myself. I miss my wife.
In my drinking days, I didn’t put up with this kind of discomfort.
If it hurt, I drowned it.
If it bored me, I escaped it.
If it demanded more than I wanted to give, I just blew it off.
I know a lot of parents who unwind at night with a glass of wine or a hit of weed.
If that’s you and you’re able to hold it together, I see no problem with it.
But for me, those options are off the table.
And honestly, I’m a better parent because of it.
These days, when I hit a wall, I know I have to go through it —
not around it, not over it, not under it.
Eyes wide, heart open, expectations tempered.
Right through it.
Sobriety taught me how to keep steady when things get hard.
But it also taught me something even harder: how to admit when I can’t.
How to say, "I'm overwhelmed."
"I'm beat."
"I need help."
Sometimes the best thing I can do isn’t to drain myself trying to be everything for everyone.
When I do that, I end up with nothing left — not for my wife or my kids or myself.
No, the most beneficial thing is being honest about where I’m at — physically, mentally, emotionally.
If my tank’s running low, my wife needs to know it.
And on the other side, it’s my job as a husband and a father to keep that tank full as often as I can so I can cover for my wife when she’s on empty.
This is not to be confused with a cop-out opportunity, it’s just common sense. But sometimes I get caught up in this sort of Superman fantasy where I think I have endless power and energy, only to come crashing straight down to earth.
I need to remember a lesson I learned in Hawaii: “If can, can. If no can, no can”
Follow me as I butcher an attempt at a Brene Brown concept here:
Her family has a shared understanding: there’s only so much collective bandwidth to go around.
When someone’s running low, they say it.
They pool their time, their patience, whatever they've got —
doing their best to spread the load so no one gets crushed under it alone.
The parents’ agenda and interests don’t outweigh soccer practice, just like the kids’ jam packed activity schedule doesn’t trump mom and dad’s sanity.
It’s not about being a martyr for the family..
It’s about helping each other survive the day, which requires being honest about where you’re at.
I love that idea.
I really do.
In theory, I’d like to be that self-aware.
In practice, what usually happens is one of us — me or my wife — loses it and breaks down in tears or withdraws altogether.
Self-awareness is a beautiful thing.
We just don't always have it handy when we need it most.
But that’s the real work, isn’t it?
Not pretending to be perfect.
Not keeping score.
Just doing the best we can with what we’ve got:
communication when we can manage it,
teamwork when we remember to lean on each other,
and forgiveness when we inevitably blow it.
It’s messy.
It’s humbling.
It’s ours.
And for today, that’s enough.
We don’t always get it right.
We just keep showing up.
◊
From the next post: The Greatest Equalizer
”Some people don’t need to bottom out before they decide it’s time to quit drinking. I’m not that person — and I’m thankful for it.”
IF YOU’RE STILL READING, THANK YOU.
Believe it if you need it,
If you don’t, just pass it on.
— ZD
About the Author
Zach Dutra is a husband, father, and conservationist who works a day job doing his part to support a healthier planet. By night (after the kids are asleep), he writes about the messy, meaningful path from addiction to recovery—and what it’s teaching him about love, responsibility, and showing up. These days, you’ll find him chasing his kids, riding his bike, or meandering through the mountains of Colorado’s Western Slope. He considers addiction the greatest gift he’s ever received.
Tags: #sobriety #parenting #mentalhealth #recovery #reflection