Becoming a dad changed the way I see my entire childhood. Before having kids, I thought I had already moved past everything I went through. I thought I was good, until I started looking at my own children and realizing just how much a child depends on the people who are supposed to love them. Suddenly, things I thought I forgot started making sense. I started thinking about the little boy I used to be, the things he needed, the things he didn’t understand, and the moments when he probably wondered why certain things had to be so hard. And honestly, sometimes that hurts more now because I know exactly how innocent a child is. My kids didn’t have to do anything to earn my love, and neither did I. That realization hits different when you become a father. I look at my children and think, “How could anybody look at you and not give you everything they possibly could?” They deserve patience when they’re learning, comfort when they’re scared, guidance when they mess up, and somebody who makes them feel safe enough to be themselves. I’m not saying I’m perfect because I’m not. I get tired, I get frustrated, I make mistakes, and sometimes I have to take a step back and remind myself that I’m raising little human beings, not trying to control them. But I keep learning. I keep trying. I keep choosing to be present. Because I know what it feels like when a child needs something deeper than food, clothes, or a roof. Sometimes they just need to know somebody cares. Sometimes they just need somebody to sit beside them. Sometimes they need a hug without having to ask. Sometimes they need their dad to say, “I’m here, and we’re going to figure this out.” That’s the kind of father I’m fighting to become. I want my kids to grow up knowing they can tell me anything. I want them to know that making a mistake won’t make me stop loving them. I want them to know that no matter how old they get, they’ll always have somewhere to come home to. And maybe that’s why fatherhood can feel so emotional for me. I’m raising my children while also learning how to care for the little boy I used to be. Every time I give my kids something I once needed, it reminds me that my past doesn’t have to control my future. I can acknowledge what hurt without becoming bitter. I can remember what I didn’t have without taking it out on the people around me. I can take the pain and turn it into purpose. My children are not responsible for healing me, but loving them has shown me parts of myself that still needed healing. And I’m grateful for that. Because I don’t want my kids to inherit my wounds. I want them to inherit the lessons. I want them to inherit strength without having to experience the things that created it. I want them to grow up knowing that being loved isn’t something they have to earn. So every day I get another chance to do something different. Another chance to listen. Another chance to be patient. Another chance to put my phone down and be present. Another chance to hug them a little longer. Another chance to become the man I wish that little boy could have seen growing up. And one day, when my children are grown, I hope they don’t remember every gift I bought or every bill I paid. I hope they remember how it felt to be my child. I hope they remember laughing with me, running into my arms, hearing me tell them I love them, and knowing without a doubt that Dad was there. Because I can’t change where I came from, but I can change what comes after me. My childhood may have left me with questions, but fatherhood gave me the chance to answer them. I may not have been able to save the little boy I was, but I can make damn sure the children I raise never have to become adults wondering if they were worth loving. They’ll know they were. Every single day. #motivation #fatherhood #breakingcyclesoftrauma #motivation #fypシ - @kingxxguzman