Wrestling with Work Guilt in the Middle of Real Life
On being present, falling short, and trying again
I’m writing this from a play café, sipping a nice iced latte while watching my three kids run and laugh and build block towers. It’s our last week as a family of five—our fourth baby is on the way—and something about this moment feels heavier than it should. I should feel grateful. Rested. Maybe even proud for making time to be here.
But instead, I feel guilty.
As a high school teacher, taking time off doesn’t come easy. I know the rhythms and routines of my classroom better than anyone. I know where we’re headed, what needs to be covered, how each student learns best. When I’m not there, it feels like I’m letting everyone down—not just my students, but my coworkers too. It’s a strange kind of guilt that comes from caring deeply on multiple fronts and constantly wondering if you’re doing any of it well.
That guilt shows up even more loudly in my work-life balance. I’m often away from home—early mornings, late nights—yet it doesn’t always feel like it’s adding up to the kind of life I want for my family. I hear about people working long hours and making incredible money. Meanwhile, I’m working long hours too... and still barely getting by. It makes me wonder if I’m failing twice—once in time, and once in resources.
What does it even mean to do “enough”?
That word haunts me a bit. Enough. It feels like a target I can never quite hit. Every time I make progress in one area—teaching, business, family—something else seems to slip. I want to be the best teacher I can be. I want to build something meaningful with Roots Coffee. I want to be fully present with my wife and kids. And I want to provide—not just financially, but mentally, emotionally, spiritually.
Balancing all of that while staying sane is a tall order.
I’ve found that my teaching life is actually the most manageable. I have systems. Routines. I know what needs to be done and when. It’s structured, and that helps. But Roots Coffee? Life at home? Those areas don’t have the same scaffolding. It’s easier for things to slip through the cracks. That’s something I’m working on now—building better systems, not just for work, but for life. I’ve been reading Atomic Habits and trying to apply its ideas across the board. Because if I can bring that same intentionality from school into the rest of my world, maybe things start to change.
But still… the guilt lingers.
What stings the most are the moments when I’m physically present but mentally somewhere else. My son has caught me scrolling before and said, “Dad, get off that stinky phone.” And that breaks me. It’s not that I don’t want to be with him—I do. But my mind is so full of to-do lists and half-finished thoughts that it pulls me away from the moment I’m actually in.
I’ve noticed that when my to-do list is empty—or at least caught up—I’m so much more able to be here. Fully. Laughing. Playing. Listening. And yet, those moments feel rare. The guilt sneaks in. And when it does, I tend to bottle it up. But it leaks out in other ways—shorter temper, less patience, a tone I don’t like.
I don’t think the guilt is all bad. I actually think it’s trying to tell me something important.
It’s a signal. A reminder that I need better systems. I need to learn how to compartmentalize my brain, not just my calendar. I need to fight to protect the emotional space I offer my family—not just show up, but show up whole.
If my kids read this one day, I hope they know how deeply they were loved. I hope they can see that I was always trying—not to be perfect, but to provide them with the best life I could. I wasn’t just working for money. I was working to give them a dad who was emotionally present and mentally available. Someone who tried, even when it was hard.
This blog isn’t a tidy answer or a finished thought. It’s a snapshot of where I am right now: trying to do good work, be a great dad, love my wife well, and somehow hold space for all of it. I don’t have it all figured out.
But I’m here. I’m trying. And maybe, for today, that’s enough.