Let’s talk about dads, family men, my brothers!
I’ve spent years working with them, in the trenches with them. Have mad respect for them.
I’m 44 now, a dad myself.
Men are hard-wired to solve their problems alone.
Which is why we don’t often see many posts about father’s in their late 30s, 40s and 50s—grappling with whatever struggles life is throwing their way.
I am fortunate to have direct exposure to hearing a lot of their stories and observe them navigating life.
This observation has taught me plenty:
→ We don’t open up much. It’s in our DnA to solve our own issues.
→ We feel isolated. Sometimes invisible. Under-appreciated.
→ The dad bod creeps in. Laziness and being content gets the better of us.
→ Chasing kids doesn’t offset the beers, and the gym feels like a young man’s game.
→ Their wives are juggling a million things too, maybe hitting menopause, and they’re left guessing how to help.
→ They’ve got big jobs, stressful ones—that pay the bills but don’t light them up anymore.
→ They get quieter. Less chatty.
→ We start to (over)think more.
→ Their circles get smaller. Their worries get greater.
→ They get creakier—knees, backs, you name it.
→ Hormones (mainly Testosterone) take a whack. Leaving us feeling weak and twiggy.
→ We go greyer—hair thins, sometimes baldness sets in.
→ They need to talk and vent, but where’s the groups to chat about things?
→ Other stuff stops working like it used to—energy, drive, ambition—and they’re not sure who to ask.
→ Their marriage dips and the spark is gone.
→ They’re confined to “that’s it” kind of mentality and it’s eating them up inside.
So, I intentionally ask Dad’s stuff that makes them think twice.
I try to meet them where they’re at—tired, stretched thin, proud but worn out.
Pushing past the “I’m fine” stage, and when they keep talking, I hear the real stuff—the worries, the challenges.
They’re hitting DADOPAUSE—that midlife stall where the spark fades and doubt creeps in.
I see it all the time—guys like me, solid dads, providers, leaders at work, but second-guessing themselves.
I know they’ve still got it—skills, grit, heart—but they don’t always know how to access themselves again.
Sound familiar?
