It’s long waking up miserable when you’re a morning person. I like to be up early, pattern up, knock things out, then coast for the rest of the day. That’s always been my strat at work too — get ahead, stay ahead. But when you wake up already in a bad headspace, the whole day’s chalked before it even starts.
I’ll throw on a brave face for my daughter, try to be pleasant, try to keep it light. But she’s not a morning person, so our moods collide like minivans on Scarlett rd with no winter tires. One wrong look, one sharp word, and I’m sliding deeper into that familiar dark fog. Peak behaviour, all around.
There’s a list of things I mean to get done every day. The important stuff — the things that affect my kid — those always get handled. No debate. But the rest? The grimy, soul-draining tasks? They get bumped. I end up posted in a chair, staring at the ceiling, running laps in my head through every predicament I’ve stacked up over the years.
I’m nowhere near where I thought I’d be at this age. That thought spins back daily, like a busted record. Man’s watching peers in my orbit pattern up, level up, secure the bag, while I’m here just trying not to drown. It messes with me. Heavy.
And it’s not because I’m dumb or incapable. I’ve tried. I’ve failed. I’ve tried again. I didn’t fold after the first L, or the second. I found love. I lost love. I learned how to be a dad. I showed up when people around me needed me. I did what had to be done. But when it comes to the things I wanted — the dreams, the plans, the future I imagined — it’s been bad timing, bad luck, dead ends, and hope getting slowly deflated until even trying feels like a setup.
So much happiness got ripped away. My ex-wife’s mental health spiral. My mum declined fast — way too fast — and then she was gone. Now it’s just the loneliness of being a single father, stuck without the credentials or connections to land a proper job. I spent the career-forming years of my life bouncing around the globe, holding things down so my ex-wife’s career could flourish. That one’s on me, I know — but try building roots or a résumé when you’re on a diplomatic spouse visa, living out of suitcases and good intentions.
The only reason I don’t just disappear into pills or something equally final is my daughter. Full stop. I love her. Even when she moves mad. Even when she treats me sideways. I want to be here for her — to gas her up, to back her plays, to help her reach whatever goals she sets, if she’ll let me.
That doesn’t mean the irrational thoughts don’t slide through. They come and go, uninvited, like anger on the night bus. I’ve been here before. Twice I drank myself into a hospital bed chasing numbness. But I haven’t touched alcohol since I landed back “home” in 2019. So now, in this more manageable version of the struggle, I just sit with it. Stay present. Try not to live in the past. Try — try — to imagine a future that isn’t just more of the same.
Just another day in the life of a rank-and-file loser, doing his best not to tap out.
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Yo — if you’re feeling similar, if your head’s getting loud and things feel like they’re starting to slip, don’t white-knuckle it. Reach out. I’ve made the call before, and I wouldn’t hesitate to make it again. There’s no shame in tapping support when the load’s too heavy.
Gerstein Centre (Toronto)
Tel.: 416 929-5200
Toronto Distress Centre
Tel.: 416 408-HELP (4357)
Canada Suicide Prevention Service
Tel.: 1 833 456-4566 (in Quebec 1 866 277-3553) or text 45645
www.crisisservicescanada.ca
Hope for Wellness (for Indigenous people)
Tel.: 1 855 242-3310
www.hopeforwellness.ca
Kids Help Phone
Tel.: 1 800 668-6868 or text CONNECT to 686868