I work two jobs to provide for my family. Some days, the weight of responsibility feels crushing. The bills, the expectations, the constant pressure to be everything to everyone—it can be overwhelming.
One evening, I came home after a particularly brutal day. I'd lost a major client at work, and I felt like a failure. I sat in my car for ten minutes, trying to compose myself before facing my family.
When I walked through the door, my eight-year-old son Michael ran to me. Before I could say anything, he wrapped his arms around me and said, "Daddy, I'm proud of you."
He didn't know about the lost client. He didn't know about the stress. He just knew his father was home, and that was enough for him.
In that moment, I realized something profound: my children don't need me to be perfect. They need me to be present. They need me to show up, even on the hard days. They need to see that it's okay to struggle, as long as you keep going.
That hug reminded me why I work so hard. Not for the money or the status, but for moments like these—moments of pure, unconditional love.
Now, whenever I feel overwhelmed, I remember Michael's words. "Daddy, I'm proud of you." And I find the strength to keep going.