A lot of people ask me if I could give dads out there some advice, what would I say? What advice would I give? Well, what if I could talk to all dads at once. So here goes.

Dear suffering Dad,

First of all, I would like to say well done for coming this far to even have found my blog post. You have made the first few steps. The first few steps are hardest, trust me I’ve been there. 

I can’t tell you how you are feeling now, to sit here and say I know how you are feeling, would be wrong and I don’t want to assume I know you. I do, however, believe I may know some of how you may feel.

Right now things might seem tough, you may feel no good, worthless or useless, you may be struggling to bond with your child, you may feel like you shouldn’t feel like this, you might be thinking “I’m the dad, dads don’t struggle. It’s the mum who should be struggling, not me” or you could be at that point where your ready to end it all, thinking “the world is better off without me, they don’t need me”

If I’m honest, as I write this I don’t know how you are feeling. What I do know, is they were all the things I felt, as I considered taking my life on that cold winters day all those years ago. As I stood there walking, what I hoped would be my last walk along those train tracks, hoping a train would hit me and take it away. I felt all those things and more. Most of all, I felt alone. I couldn’t tell my wife I was the man, I was the strong one, I was the one who was meant to protect my family, I was meant to hold the family together. Here I was numb, no feeling, hating the fact I had no love for my daughter, feeling like a failure, unable to tell anyone. The man with everything yet nothing, the man with so many people who cared about him, yet alone unwilling or unable to tell anyone how he felt, the man who would rather be dead than show weakness and admit they were struggling. Afraid of being judged. Afraid to be a Dad, scratch that, unable to be a dad I felt nothing for my daughter, no love nothing, I was numb. My daughter would be better off with a dad who was dead.

If you can even relate to a tiny bit of that, then this message is for you. 

Things can and do get better, there are people out there who can help, I am proof that things do get better I got better, right now you may feel like it’s impossible, but I promise you it’s not. I’m not saying it’s easy or that you will never struggle, but you can get better. 

Here is my advice to you. Talk to somebody, anybody. Your partner would be a good person to talk to, you will be surprised how understanding they will be. If you can’t talk to your partner, just yet talk to somebody you trust, a friend, a workmate, a brother, a sister, a mother or father, it can be anybody. If you really can’t find anybody, talk to a stranger. If you want to talk to me, I won’t give you medical advice but I will listen  [a list of people you could talk to is at the end of this letter].

I beg you please, go to see your doctor, talk to them. Tell them how you are feeling and follow their medical advice. Tell your health visitor how you are feeling, you may think they’re not there for you, but they are there for all the family and you never know they may even know of groups or activities that can help you.

Get on the net, find the community of us fighting our demons together. You will find so many like you, dads who have struggled and dads who are still struggling. I have only recently done this step and I can say I wish I did it sooner. The community is amazing and made me realise how I felt, wasn’t unusual or unheard of. There are many dads who have fought the black dog and won. No one in this community will judge.

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