For years I believed that missing my old life meant I wasn't grateful for the one I had.
So every time I missed my freedom, my creative projects, or the version of myself that existed before becoming a father, I immediately felt guilty.
The two experiences became fused together.
Missing something became proof that I was ungrateful.
Wanting something became proof that I didn't love what I already had.
Looking back, I don't think either of those things was true.
I think it's possible to love your children deeply and still grieve parts of the life you left behind.
In fact, I suspect that acknowledging that grief is often healthier than pretending it isn't there.
What made things difficult for me wasn't necessarily the feeling itself.
It was feeling like I wasn't allowed to have it.