I’m used to the looks—the double takes, the whispers. People assume I’m some overwhelmed dad juggling a dozen kids. The truth? Only two are mine. The rest came from favors for friends who needed a hand watching their kids when no one else could.
At first, it was just weekends here and there. But it quickly snowballed. My small home became a daycare, and I became the go-to guy for babysitting. I told myself I was helping, but really, I was filling a loneliness that my separation and quiet nights couldn’t fix.
The noise and chaos distracted me from that emptiness. I got used to the stares and judgment, but deep down, I wondered if people pitied me or thought I was losing control. I started doubting myself, realizing I’d been saying yes to mask my pain.
One night, I finally set boundaries and told a mom I needed a break. It was hard, and I felt guilty, but I knew I had to put my own life first.
Spending more time with my two kids helped me heal. Then came a crisis—Sarah, the mom who started it all, called me desperate for help when her husband was in an accident. I said yes—but this time on my terms, with limits.
That choice changed everything. Helping became a choice, not a burden. Months later, Sarah recommended me for a family-focused job, giving me stability and hope.
I learned that it’s okay to say no, to set boundaries, and to take care of yourself first. You can’t pour from an empty cup.
If you’re overwhelmed, remember: taking care of you is how you’ll truly be able to take care of others.