The Book That Taught Me to Be Curious About My Fears as a New Father
Hello, Dads.
I’m writing this for you. Let me begin by acknowledging you—for being who you are and for trying to be the best dad you can be. I see your struggles, your doubts, and your fears. You have a beautiful little person to care for. You want to model a life for them; you want them to become the best version of themselves. You long for their happiness. Above all, you want them to be free of suffering.
You think about your own upbringing, reflecting on what you may not have had in abundance. Perhaps you didn’t feel loved, or maybe your feelings were neglected when you were small. You wonder where you’ll find the love you need to give your child. You think of how deeply you love your child and then reverse that love onto yourself. The moment you do, you may feel a wave of grief for the love you never received as a child. Perhaps your parents never told you they loved you.
You don’t want to be that parent for your child. But then, a painful question arises: How can I be different? How can you genuinely love when you’ve never felt truly loved—held, accepted, and embraced for who you are?
Perhaps you’ve started reflecting on the little person you once were. Can you feel that child inside your heart? Bring them to mind. Maybe even look at an old photograph. What do you see? How do you feel about that little person? Do you miss them? Do you want to hold them close, give them a big hug, and remind them how loved they are?
It’s difficult to find joy in life when the playful, curious little person inside you has been exiled.
How Can You Love If You’ve Never Been Loved?
I acknowledge your hurt, the pain of not being seen. It’s a wound that runs deep. Yet, amidst those powerful emotions, something small stirs within you—a gentle invitation. It’s as though a quiet voice is calling you to explore, to reach out to that little person inside you. To embrace them, soothe them, and whisper that they are loved. That you are there for them.
You find this invitation beautiful and intriguing. There’s an energy to it, but it’s not the kind of energy you’re used to. You’ve grown familiar with the red-hot intensity of fear and anger—loud, immediate, and overwhelming. But this little invitation feels different. Its energy is soft, cool, and calm, like the vast sky on a warm summer evening. It doesn’t dazzle or blind; it simply invites.
You wonder what this “something” is.
Perhaps all the pain and doubt, the relentless questions, have evoked this presence. You notice that when you’re harshly critical of yourself, it whispers that you’re “OK.” You wonder how it knows you so well.
Doubt lingers, but so does this presence.
The Little “Something”
The more attention you pay to this little “something,” the more present it becomes. It gently guides you through your day, inviting you to explore the questions you’ve been wrestling with. You start to welcome its help.
You begin reading, reflecting, and listening to anyone who might offer wisdom about your struggles. You’ve realised that when you fall, this little “something” helps you get back up. It gives you courage, though you still long for clearer direction.
Your struggles remain real but hidden. You don’t talk about them with loved ones or friends for fear of being judged, questioned, or labelled. The idea that your role as a father might be scrutinised makes you feel small. But the little “something” reassures you. It whispers that you are enough and invites you into its vast, calm space. Yet you hesitate—you’re unsure how to step into that space.
The Journey of Discovery
Months pass on this journey of self-discovery. You feel frustrated and restless. Your mind is crowded with thoughts, and at times, you lose sight of what you’re searching for. Who is the seeker, and what is the subject of your search? You feel lonely, often defeated.
Yet, the little “something” does not abandon you. It continues to nudge you, urging you to stay curious and present with your pain. It reassures you, much like how your mum might have held you when you were small—her fingers running gently through your hair, making you feel instantly beautiful and whole. You remember that feeling: pure joy, playfulness, and completeness, as if there was nothing about you that needed fixing.
You long to bottle that feeling, to keep it close.
One evening, after finishing another book about how childhood shapes fatherhood, you search online for your next read. A suggestion pops up: “Readers who liked this also read…” One title catches your eye: How to Hold a Cockroach: A Book for Those Who Are Free and Don’t Know It. The name intrigues you. Cockroaches reminded you of your childhood curiosity about small creatures.
The little “something” nudges you: Let’s read this book.
The Book That Changes Everything
When the book arrives, it’s small—a quick read. As you open it, you’re immediately drawn into its heart. It speaks, not to your mind, but to your heart.
The story follows a little boy disturbed by a cockroach while eating dinner. Although his parents have told him cockroaches are disgusting, he lets his curiosity guide him. This begins an exploration of his fears and beliefs—his life’s “cockroaches.”
As you read, you feel an intense relief.
In that moment, you realise that the love and acceptance you’ve been searching for have been within you all along.
You feel an intense joy.
You rest in the knowledge that the little “something” is always there—a part of you that loves, accepts, and sees you.
You feel a deep sense of acceptance.
You recognise that exploring your fears and beliefs with curiosity is the key to peace.
Your steps feel firmer.
A warm, beautiful feeling envelops you: this little “something” is yours. It’s a place of rest, always present, always ready to love you—so that you may know how to love.
Your outlook shifts. You begin to see the world around you through the eyes of love.
Acknowledgement and links
And in this moment of clarity, I find myself deeply grateful to Matt Maxwell, the author of How to Hold a Cockroach: A Book for Those Who Are Free and Don’t Know It. His work is a gentle, profound reminder that curiosity is not only a way through our fears but also a path back to ourselves. It is a book that doesn’t just teach—it transforms, opening the door to the love we’ve always carried within.
To buy the book in the UK go here.
For those of you who are interested in going deeper, Matt does provide coaching which has benefited me enormously. Read more on
coaching on my post on LinkedIn.Let me close with this beautiful poem by
(@David Whyte "Blessing for the Morning Light" by David Whyte. It is included in his poetry collection The Bell and the Blackbird, published in 2018)May you see what is hidden in you,
as a place of hospitality and shadowed shelter,
may that hidden darkness be your gift to give,
may you hold that shadow to the light,
and the silence of that shelter to the word of the light.
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