It’s Not Too Late.

Fellas,

You ever play an instrument?

I play drums now. Back in school, it was tenor sax. At home, I used to mess around on the piano… badly.

The point I’m getting to, is: if you’ve ever had an instrument go out of tune, you know the feeling.

You sit down to play something you know in your bones and suddenly, the notes sound crooked. Off. Like the song itself forgot who it was. It's like trying to speak a language you once knew fluently.

That’s what it can feel like after the divorce. Like you’re trying to love your kid with an instrument that doesn’t play right anymore.

We don’t talk enough about what happens inside a man when the family breaks apart. In the weeks after the divorce, many fathers vanish emotionally.

Not from lack of care but because their internal compass gets shattered. The world watches your actions. Judges them. Labels you.

But they don’t see what’s going on beneath the surface. If you’ve ever found yourself sitting in the driveway, dreading the knock on the door.

If you’ve stared at a text message for hours, unsure whether to hit send, or you felt like no matter what you do, it’ll be wrong…🤷🏾‍♂️ So you go quiet.

You perform normalcy at work and numb yourself at home. We disappear inside ourselves because sometimes, that’s the only thing we know how to do.

That shutdown gets called “distance” by others, even by your own kids.

One dad wrote online:

What Can You Do Now?

When They Say “ ” They’re Really Saying “ ”

Let’s talk about something that hits like a brick through a stained-glass window.

Three words: “I hate you.” Simple. Brutal.

Let me be clear I’m not talking about your grown kids. If your 28-year-old son yells that, Slap Him.

I’m talking about the younger ones the ones still figuring out what to do with big feelings in small bodies.

If you’ve ever heard it, you know it doesn’t land like a sentence. It lands like a verdict. Go straight to jail. Do not collect $200. And it’s not always those exact words.

It might sound like:

They don’t mean it the way it sounds. But it still hits like a punch to the ribs especially when you’ve already been questioning your worth.

And in that moment, everything in you wants to recoil. Defend yourself. Argue. Or worse shut down.

But here’s what I need you to hold onto:

They’re reaching for a lifeline, grabbing the nearest thing while the world they didn’t ask to change keeps spinning without their permission.

What’s hiding behind those words?

Here’s your job in that moment: not to prove your innocence, but to decode the pain.

What they might be saying but don’t have the tools to say yet:

And yeah it hurts. Deep.

But remember this:

Kids throw emotional grenades at the people they believe will stay standing after the smoke clears.

I read a post from a dad on Reddit. He said:

That’s the power of not flinching. Of staying when it would’ve been easier to retreat.

Regret Wants You to Live in the Rearview. Your Child Just Wants to Know If You’ll Drive Forward.

Regret is a clever con man. It tells you the debt’s too big. The damage too deep.

That unless you can show up with the perfect apology and a briefcase full of repaired yesterdays, don’t bother showing up at all.

But your child isn’t waiting on a speech. They’re waiting on presence.

They don’t need a TED Talk. They need effort. They need reminders that someone out there still roots for them even now.

You’ve heard me say it before. And I’ll say it again until the internet shuts down:

What you did doesn’t matter. What you do is all that matters.

You don’t need permission to start loving your child better today.

You don’t need some grand reconciliation scene with rain falling in slow motion.

You just need to keep “watering” the relationship.

The Bamboo Tree

A farmer planted a bamboo seed. Watered it every day. Year one nothing. Year two dirt. Year three still just damp soil. But the farmer kept watering.

And in year five, seemingly out of nowhere, the bamboo shot up 80 feet in just a few weeks.

Was it magic?

No. The bamboo was growing underground the whole time. It was building roots. The kind of roots that could hold the weight of its future.

That’s you.

You’re not starting from scratch. You’ve been laying roots even if they were messy, or late, or crooked.

It’s time to reach upward.

But What If I Don’t Know What to Say?

Then say that.

“I don’t know what to say, but I want to be here.”

You’re not a salesman. You don’t need the perfect pitch. You need to be a presence, not a performance.

You want something to offer? Offer humility.

Try this:

You don’t have to rush it. Relationships don’t grow on command. They grow with consistency.

Don’t Demand Closeness. Earn it.

We don’t trust people just because they say the right thing once. We trust them because they keep showing up. So don’t swing for the fences.

Go small. Stay steady. This isn’t about you getting closure. This is about giving them a chance to open up.

And if they don’t respond right away? Don’t chase. Be patient with their distance.

What to Do Next

Don’t overthink it. Pick one small thing:

What Kind of Father Do You Want to Be Now?

Not five years ago. Not after the divorce. Not when everything went sideways.

Right now.

Do you want to be the father who waited for the perfect time or the one who showed up when it mattered most?

No matter how many mistakes you’ve made, your child deserves your next best effort. Not your silence.

Fellas, you are not your lowest moment.

You’re the man who’s still reading this.

The one who’s showing up. Reaching. Building. One story at a time.

Not because it’s easy.

But because it matters.

And, that’s the most powerful story of all.

Keep building.

until next time,

Barkim

P.S. Appreciate all the feedback. Keep hitting the polls, it helps me improve this. My socials are on the bottom, also please share if you enjoy the newsletter. (Older post in Archive) Thank You All for allowing me to take this journey with you.