!if you are that man,
When I was a child, the only thing I really worried about was being hungry. Even then, I expected my parents to feed me, whether or not they had eaten themselves. Growing up was enjoyable, but nothing was completely free. There were always small tasks to complete and expectations to meet, and even as children we were expected to contribute in whatever little ways we could. Perhaps that is how life begins teaching us about responsibility.
Everyone experiences pressure at different stages of life. But as I grew older, I began to understand the particular pressure that comes with becoming a man, a husband and a father. Growing up is enjoyable until the obligations begin to pile up. At first, you are responsible mainly for yourself. Then things change. You are expected to leave home at a certain age, find work, build a career or start a business, get married, have children, provide for them and protect them. And somehow you must keep everything together even when you are barely managing to keep yourself together.
Sometimes it becomes difficult to enjoy your own achievements, because society keeps moving the goalpost. You achieve one thing, and immediately there is something else to accomplish. You are working, but expected to earn more. You are married, but expected to provide more. You have children, but expected to give them more. And when you cannot, you begin to question yourself.
I grew up with many siblings. My parents worked hard to put food on the table. My father left home early in the morning and often returned late at night. My mother wasn’t always smiling. With so many mouths to feed, clothes to buy, school fees to find and children to care for, there was always something waiting. My mother was strong and supportive, and my father was extremely hardworking, yet there were times when my school fees and those of my siblings had to be borrowed. Sometimes I overheard my parents arguing, usually about money and basic needs at home.
As a child, I couldn’t understand why. I assumed their difficulties were the result of poor planning or too many children. But life has taught me otherwise. Today I see families with fewer children, living in major cities and developed countries, facing serious financial difficulty. Sometimes the problem isn’t how many people are in the family. Sometimes life is simply expensive, and the income coming in isn’t enough for the responsibilities going out.
As a man, there can be an expectation that you will solve whatever problem appears in your family. You have a job, but your salary barely covers the rent. Then come food, electricity, transport, school expenses and household needs. Your wife may want a gift. Your children may want treats, outings or a holiday. None of these requests is unreasonable; they are normal things families want. But sometimes circumstances make even ordinary things feel impossible.
I remember my daughter asking repeatedly about going on holiday during the long school break. Eventually, I found the right words to make her stop asking. What she didn’t understand was that, in some ways, I needed that holiday more than she did. I needed the break. I needed to see my family happy. I needed to experience something that wasn’t another bill, another shift or another responsibility. It breaks my heart to think that circumstances made it impossible.
The worst part isn’t that the things my children want are expensive. It is knowing that our circumstances can make even simple experiences difficult, and that creates pressure. I want my wife and children to be happy. But before anything else, I want to build a consistent, reliable source of income beyond what I earn each month. I want stability. I want breathing space. I want to be able to say yes sometimes without immediately calculating what it will cost us tomorrow.
No one understands this pressure quite like a parent who wants the best for their children, works hard every day, and still can’t afford everything they wish they could provide. When every penny has to be weighed, it isn’t necessarily because you are stingy. Sometimes you are simply aware that one careless decision can affect the entire family. Yet from the outside, you can easily be misunderstood, called stingy, uncaring or selfish.
Nobody sees the calculations happening inside your head, the quiet question of “If I spend this today, what happens tomorrow?” Nobody sees the things you give up, the dreams you postpone, or the nights you lie awake trying to make everything work. And slowly, the pressure begins to show. Your smile becomes less frequent. You look older than your age. Sleep becomes difficult, your energy fades, and your health can begin to suffer. One day you look back and realise you have spent so much time trying to provide a better life for your family that you forgot to live some of your own.
Now I understand my father. I understand why he didn’t always come home early from work, why my mother’s smiles were so seldom seen, and what lay behind the arguments I overheard as a child. Behind those moments were two parents trying to make something work. They didn’t have all the answers. They simply kept trying.
And now I find myself doing something similar. Different country, different circumstances, different generation, but some pressures remain remarkably familiar. Perhaps that is one of the hidden realities of being a man and a father: the very responsibility that gives your life meaning can also become a source of enormous pressure. You want to provide, to protect, to keep your family happy, to be strong. But you are human too. You get tired. You worry. You struggle. You have dreams of your own. Sometimes you need help. And perhaps men need to be reminded that admitting this does not make them weak. It makes them human.
The invisible pressure men carry is real. You may not see it on someone’s face or hear it in his voice. You may simply see a man going to work every morning and coming home every evening. But behind that routine could be a thousand calculations, sacrifices and worries that nobody knows about. So the next time you meet a man who seems unusually quiet, don’t assume he doesn’t care. He may simply be carrying something you cannot see.
And if you are that man, remember this: your family needs your presence, not just your provision. Work hard. Provide when you can. Build for the future. But don’t forget to take care of the person carrying all that responsibility. You.!
