|
We seem to hear about "Mom guilt" all the time. But what about "Dad guilt"? Let me start by saying that this has nothing to do with playing the victim or any sort of "poor me" mentality. As leaders, we don't get to be victims. And we're never in the game of scorekeeping or comparison with our wives. Instead, this is about how we handle and harness these uncomfortable feelings. Do they lead to action or paralysis? The guilt I'm referring to here is that feeling of not doing enough. Not being intentional enough. Not prioritizing the right things. That fear of regret. In my experience, guilt comes from comparison far more than it comes from actual mistakes. It shows up not because we’re failing, but because we care. “Perfect Dad” BooksI remember one moment of discouragement a few years ago. I’d just finished a book by a dad who seemed to be doing everything perfectly. Hours of meaningful conversation with his son every single week. A full outline of every concept he wanted to teach. Trips and experiences that were extravagant and meticulously planned. A full rites-of-passage experience. And a kid who seemed to absorb it all with total enthusiasm. All of it wrapped up with a supportive wife who seemed to be completely bought in. I put the book down and sat there for a minute. At times what I read had motivated me, but when I got to the end it felt less inspiring. Instead it felt unattainable. It was the feeling of inadequacy that doesn’t push you forward but instead makes you step back and wonder if it’s even worth trying for something that feels so out of reach. There was a line in the book that had offered some encouragement. It reassured met that because I was taking the time to even read a book like this, I was ahead of the vast majority of other dads. The fact that I cared enough to wrestle with this stuff said a lot. Most dads aren’t even thinking about intentional fatherhood, let alone reading books about it. So at least I was better than those guys... But is that what this is all about, competition with other dads? “Better than most” isn’t exactly a compelling benchmark when you look around and notice how low that bar has sunk. Divorce rates, absent fathers, men who’ve just checked out. Being better than average isn’t hard, and it shouldn’t be the goal. And if comparison is the game, I can also find a number of dads who seem to be doing this all better than I am. The Enemy: ComplacencyComparison with either extreme leads to the real enemy. “I’m doing better than most” turns into complacency. “But I can’t be perfect” turns into paralysis. The truth is simple: perfect is the enemy of good. Perfection isn’t the proper standard. Progress is. At its worst, comparison to a perfect ideal produces shame. Shame can jolt us awake if we’re sliding into truly shameful patterns. Guilt can give us a little spark of energy to correct a mistake. But as long-term fuel, they’re toxic. They rob us of joy, peace, and the ability to see the good that’s actually happening. And that only gets worse when the comparison is aimed at the wrong target. The Answer: ProgressSo what’s the way through it? I’ve come to believe the ideal is still useful, but only if we frame it correctly. The ideal is a perfect standard that is unrealistic by design. There will always be men who are stronger than you in certain areas. It’s good to admire them and to be inspired by somebody else’s excellence. What’s destructive is measuring ourselves against their life as if it’s the standard we must meet today. Admire the ideal. Don’t get cynical and try to tear it down. But also don’t measure your worth by it. So, what did I do as I worked through some of those hopeless feelings? I took one small step on my own journey towards more intentional family leadership. I started by implementing one thing from that book. Not everything all at once. Just one thing. It wasn’t perfect and it didn’t need to be. One step led to another. And then another. Some ideas failed. Some stuck. And slowly, over time, I built something I could actually sustain. Something personal. Something meaningful enough that I eventually started sharing it with other dads. I was recently talking to some dads that just completed the FamLEAD 30 Day Sprint. Across those 30 days we painted a full picture—an ideal system for leading your family intentionally. But no man is expected to implement it all in thirty days. Honestly, no man will implement it perfectly in thirty years. And that’s the point. The Sprint isn't about achieving the ideal. It's about creating momentum and starting a journey toward the right destination. You don’t have to arrive at perfection because you actually never will. You just have to point yourself in the right direction. That’s why I keep coming back to this idea: it’s not where you are, it’s where you’re heading. Your trajectory matters more than your current position, and the powerful truth is that trajectory can change in an instant. One choice. One commitment. One step and your trajectory immediately adjusts. Being an intentional father, a great husband, a family leader—they’re high callings. They’re also long journeys. They’re journeys that are difficult but that we’re meant to enjoy, not races we’re supposed to win. The secret to enjoying it is simple: compare yourself to who you were yesterday, not to the perfect ideal you saw in someone else’s story. Takeaways
Next StepsTake one small step this week. Have a conversation about family purpose and values with your wife. Spend 10 tech-free minutes per day with each of your kids. Send an encouraging text to your wife, right now. Schedule a simple family meeting. Put a date night on the calendar. Then add something else next week. If you want help getting started, or if you want structure for changing your family’s trajectory in a real, sustainable way, the next Sprint group kicks off soon. You’re invited to join me or pass it along to a dad who might appreciate support as he creates momentum. Let's keep taking each step together. -Andrew |