Someone once asked me where I feel like “I am” in my body. Heart? Gut? Head? After thinking about it, I realized: I feel like I’m outside my body. Just above and to the right. Watching myself from somewhere else.

I don’t know if that’s connected to being present, but it feels like part of the same thing. I struggle to stay in emotions. I struggle to be here with the people I love most.

I have two boys—2 and 9. I’m not an absent father; I spend a lot of time with them. But sometimes I just… don't have the energy to engage and take them in like I wish I could. Like I’m too drained to really be with them, even when I’m physically there. Playing with my youngest—especially aimless toy play—bores me to death. I do better when we have a mission. Grocery shopping together is easier than sitting on the floor with Lego.

I often feel like I don’t have enough energy for my own thoughts. Like they don’t fit inside the life I’m living. When it gets too much, I ask my wife to take the kids and I shut the bedroom door. I lie on the bed hoping to recover something. But I can't just be—that stresses me out more. So I scroll Instagram. I play games. I watch Netflix. Just to dull the noise. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes I come out with a little more to give. But a lot of times, it’s just… the same.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say exactly. Just that this is where I’m starting from. I want to be here. But I don’t know how.