Dear Dad: Victor Ataraxia
The Eighth Instalment of The Dear Dad Series.
Welcome to Dear Dad
"Dear Dad is a space where fathers reflect on their journey, sharing the wisdom they wish they had before becoming a dad. Each week, a different dad opens up about his experiences, lessons, and insights. This week's letter is from Victor Ataraxia, who reflects on change and helps us to ask questions of ourselves. If you could go back and give yourself advice before fatherhood, what would you say? Share your thoughts in the comments."
Introduction by Gareth Wall
I love how Victor helps us all be reflective about how we engage in fatherhood. His letter captures something many dads feel but rarely say out loud—raising a child who seems different from others can shake you, stretch you, and ultimately change you.
Finding out your child is autistic doesn’t come with a script. It doesn’t tell you how to feel or what to do next. It invites you into a new way of seeing the world through your child’s eyes. And as Victor so beautifully shows, that world is rich with idiosyncrasies, deep connections, and lessons that teach you just as much about yourself as they do about your child.
I’m so glad he’s spoken about this. Because in my work, I’ve met many dads who are walking this road. Some are full of questions, some are still processing, and some are fiercely advocating for their kids in ways that would make you proud to be part of this brotherhood. In my local area, there’s a brilliant group of dads I often refer to. They meet up regularly, sharing stories about their children. Talking about the highs and the lows, the joy of seeing their child thrive, and the need for routines that help the whole family feel a little more settled.
It shows the power of parenting out loud. Of not holding it all in. Talking with other dads, having a community. It just so happens that their children are on the autistic spectrum, but what would it feel like to have that kind of community for yourself? A group of dads you could meet with regularly. Not to fix each other, but to hang out and talk honestly about your successes and your failures. To feel less alone. To laugh, to vent, to swap stories that make you feel seen. That’s something every dad deserves.
I’m reminded every time I work alongside a dad whose son is autistic. While the work is the same, it’s also completely different. The same core principles of being a good dad apply. Showing up. Staying curious. Being patient. Loving your child as they are. But how you do it might look and feel different. And that’s okay.
Victor’s words brought to mind the poem Welcome to Holland by Emily Perl Kingsley, which so many parents of neurodivergent children will know. It speaks of expecting to land in one place, only to find yourself somewhere else entirely. Not worse, not better, just different. You can read it here: Welcome to Holland
Maybe that’s what fatherhood teaches all of us in the end.
What about you? Let me know in the comments!
Dear Dad,
August 2018
Dear Victor,
I see that you’re sleeping peacefully right now, so I wanted to drop this letter into your hand. I’m you from the future, and I wanted to offer some perspective. I’m not going to tell you which stocks to buy, but six-and-a-half years of parenting has left me with some thoughts that may benefit you. Will you listen?
You know how your son is due in three weeks? Well in a few hours your wife will wake you up from your peaceful slumber and say that it’s time to go to the hospital. You started a new job two weeks ago and you thought you would have more time to get settled in at your new company, and you are not ready to have this happen right now. Take a deep breath. As a new father it’s normal to feel like things aren’t in your control and are happening too fast. Your absurd sense of humor will serve you well in the coming years as you navigate the stress a new child brings.
Speaking of stress, how are you dealing with that today? Is the alcohol really serving you well, or is that something holding you back? How about the late nights watching TV and playing video games? What are your triggers for feeling down and how will you manage them? How will you balance work and home life, and what will your guiding priorities be in this new chapter? We should have fun, but what does having fun mean in light of this new responsibility? Think about this in the next few months.
As you drive to the hospital you’re expecting that the new boy will pop out right away like in the movies, but it will take thirty-six hours of labor and waiting, a lot of pushing on your wife’s part, a broken collarbone on your son’s part, and lost sleep for everyone to get there. This is just a preview of what it means to be tired like a parent. You pulled a few all-nighters in college, but those were your decision. Your own capacity to bear fatigue will increase as you are required to keep your son alive and happy at all hours of the day. It will be uncomfortable, but you will grow into it.
Nobody gives you extra credit for keeping your kids alive, it’s just the expectation now. It will feel like you need to do more with the same level of resources, and you will feel crunched. If you stay with it, your love for your family will lead you to innovate and grow in your ability to function more efficiently.
What used to be thirty-minute breakfasts on the weekend might look more like one-minute snacks standing over the kitchen sink. Movie marathons will soon be interrupted by the needs of your child. It will become rare to sleep through the night without being woken up and you’ll start going to bed earlier. You’re strong, and there are many who have trod this path before you, so just know that you can do this. The infant stage is not for the faint of heart.
After a few months of dealing with your surly boss and demanding customers you will realize that this new job stinks, and you will find a different one that pays more, offers more flexibility, and makes you happier. Why did you think you needed to suffer so much at your old job? As a man, husband, and father, if you don’t like something it’s on you to make it better, and if you can recognize this without needing to first suffer greatly, you and your family will be better off. What can you change in advance, today? How can you plan now to live in greener pastures later?
You will begin to arrange more weekday lunch dates with your wife because you realize that working through lunch every day was a waste of time, and that you missed her, and you see that she’s been around all along. You will pick your son up from daycare an hour earlier than your wife usually gets him and realize that he’s also been there the whole time, all these months, and the emails and code you were pounding through before will seem like nothing in comparison. Your family is always there, even when you’re lost in your own head.
Speaking of your son, he seems a little much, right? Everyone will tell you that it will get better, that kids mellow out, to just wait until he’s three months, six months, nine months, etc. But he seems different from other people’s kids and manages to wear out both you and your wife on a regular basis. At nine months he’s quite fussy and it seems like minor things set him off. You feel like a bad parent when he’s like this, like there is more you should be doing to help him. He’s keen to pay attention and is able to communicate in ways that seem advanced for his age. He seems very bright. He’s weird, but not in a bad way, and kind of in a way that reminds you of yourself and your wife. His idiosyncrasies are what make him who he is, and later you will learn that he’s on the autism spectrum, and this will shake your life up in ways you never considered. You are strong enough and smart enough to deal with all of this.
Your new son doesn’t come with a warranty, or any guarantees. All you can do is respond to who he is and love him in the ways that he needs. Your time and energy are no longer your own sole property, you are now serving a cause greater than yourself. This might be the most important thing you ever do. Welcome to the elite order of fathers.
Meet Victor Ataraxia
🧑 Who they are:
Hello, I’m Victor, and I write over at https://substack.com/@victorataraxia
I post a 500-word essay each week on various topics that are close to my interests. Please consider reading my work.
More importantly I am 35, married, live in the US, and am a stay-at-home father of four children, ages 1-6. I worked full-time until last year, now I limit myself to the 7AM-9PM shift of when my kids are awake.
🌍 Where to find them:
💬 What did this letter make you think about? Drop a comment below— Victor will be here to reply!
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Reflections on Fatherhood & Coaching
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