The Day That Didn’t Want to Start

Yesterday felt like the day that never wanted to start.

Not because nothing moved. But because everything felt heavy before it even got momentum. Purposeful, yes. But weighted. I’m still a bit tired from the weekend that never really ended, yet I can feel the benefits of the work I already did carrying into this week. That has given me more space than I expected.

Discipline showed up quietly yesterday.

There were interesting things I could have chased. I could have poured hours into tweaking my stream bot; polishing, refining, adding just one more feature. Instead, I said no. I reminded myself that it’s where it needs to be. That fixes can happen as issues surface, and new ideas can come when inspiration strikes. Letting it live as it is felt right.

With those hours back, I spent time with my kids. With my wife. Alone, reading Stoic philosophers and sitting with extra devotions. Nothing flashy, just grounding.

I also noticed myself choosing observation over reaction.

There were moments, especially after stream, where the list of things to fix felt overwhelming. Seventeen items surfaced almost immediately, some with multiple parts. Old me might have spiraled or stayed up chasing all of them. Instead, I paused. I fixed ten before bed and left the rest for another day. The list didn’t own me.

And then something slowed the day down.

I got my grade back on a paper I had to resubmit after misreading a rubric. It wasn’t an F anymore, but it was a B-. That hit harder than I expected. I talked it through with my wife, intentionally with the kids nearby, and then tried to get back to the day.

That moment carried more weight than it should have.

Not because of the workload—but because of the disappointment I was holding quietly. I know I can do better at school, and I’m wrestling with the fear of blowing my 4.0. Processing that, keeping it in check, staying positive in front of my family. It took more out of me than I expected.

Later in the day, my oldest son came into my office.

Without prompting, he said, “I’m sorry about your grade on your paper, Dad. But remember what you always tell us, C’s or better and we’ll be happy. So be happy, Dad. You’re not failing.”

Then he hugged me. A long, bear hug. One of those moments where your heart has to work not to burst.

That moment brought more peace than I knew I needed.

But it also pulled me back to something I wrote years ago, during one of the hardest waiting rooms of my life. I don’t revisit it often, but it still holds truth for me:
This Room
https://www.craniodad.com/old-blog/this-room

I’m leaving a few things unresolved right now. Some future work decisions are pressing, but they belong to a later version of me. I’m choosing not to rush them—not because they don’t matter, but because timing does.

I don’t feel like I’ve lost control. If anything, my footing feels steadier than it has in a while. But there’s a growing urge to move forward. Upward. I’m still sorting out whether that pull comes from curiosity… or from not wanting to look back.

No answers yet.

Just attention.

This is where I’m writing from today.

Calm, but compressed.
Focused, with edges.
Holding steady in motion.