This is a story about an unexpected journey into fatherhood and self-discovery. It spans a decade of my life, from my early twenties to my thirties.
At 22, I found myself unexpectedly becoming a father — a role I had neither planned nor considered. I was still trying to figure out who I was and what I truly wanted. I was in my third year of university, Cecilia was my first girlfriend, and I was about to confirm an internship at the Mozilla Foundation when the news hit me like a bolt from the blue.
The first thing Cecilia said to me, I will remember it forever, is "I'm sorry, but even if you don't want it, I will keep it."
In complete panic, desperately needing help, I went home and talked to my mother. And she did something I never expected, something beautiful and terrible at the same time. She said, "children are a beautiful thing". My mother's words had a profound impact. Without realizing that Cecilia had already decided to keep the baby, my mother's support effectively eliminated any personal doubts. She didn't see the pregnancy as a problem, but as an opportunity. "If you're okay with Cecilia, we'll help you."
It was exactly what I needed: someone to tell me what to do about something much bigger than myself. In an instant, as if flipping a switch, I put aside all my doubts. With a mix of relief, fear, and determination, I immediately accepted my new role of family man, eliminating any personal preference from the equation. In retrospect it is startling how quickly I was willing to erase my needs for a decision that would shape the rest of my life.
My father helped us set up a home where we could live. I married Cecilia, and for another two years, with a wife and a newborn at home, I continued to study engineering, and in the breaks between one lesson and another, I worked to earn something.
What followed in the next 8 years was something that I can only call a "death march" — an unsustainable period of life, lacking self-awareness and therefore destined to end very badly. I was living on autopilot, and I didn't even realize it.
Two years later? We welcomed our second child. Three years later? The third. Did I really want it? No. But Cecilia did, and at that point, it seemed like we were on a predetermined path. I did what needed to be done, what seemed to make sense to everyone. Everyone was happy about these children. I myself saw many beautiful things in it.
It's so strange, I remember so little of what was going through my head. Such little depth of thought. It was as if I was there, but not really there.
In the whirlwind of family life, I found myself uprooted from my hometown, Turin, leaving behind my circle of friends and my job, the company that I had founded with my friends as soon as I graduated. We moved to Florence because it made sense for my wife. I adapted, as I always did, putting the needs of others before my own.
The only real outlet I had, the only space where I truly felt like myself, was in my professional life. I was good, I knew what I wanted and I could decide for my path without accounting to anyone. Of course, there were growing tensions with Cecilia about the fact that I was too mentally absent, too focused on work. She saw my need to escape.
Then, at the age of 30, everything collapsed at once. All the emotions and desires that I had repressed for years exploded with a force that I couldn't control. It was like a volcano that had silently accumulated pressure, finally exploding in a cathartic and terrifying display.
The divorce was the most daunting leap I’ve ever taken. For three exhausting years, I wrestled with the fear of irreparably hurting my children. I had to slowly dismantle it piece by piece before making a decision. It was a journey of intense (and painful) self-reflection.
Today, six years later, I find myself in a situation I never thought possible in my wildest hopes. Cecilia and I live in the same building, coexisting peacefully with our respective partners. Our children move freely between our apartments, surrounded by love and calm in both homes. This unconventional arrangement has brought us all balance, peace, and happiness. My relationship with my children has deepened, and I’m fully present with them, experiencing fatherhood on my own terms. What once felt like an obligation has become a conscious choice, one I now embrace and enjoy wholeheartedly.
Looking back at my twenties, I see how much I've changed. That decade was marked by unexpected responsibilities and suppressed desires. It took years to shed the shame of being absent and passive. I’ve come to understand that I was just a young person trying to navigate a situation far beyond my resources. My self-cancellation, though regrettable, was the best choice I could make at the time, allowing me to provide stability for my children and stay close enough while truly grow.
I hope this story underscores the importance of self-reflection and staying true to ourselves. It’s also living proof that life really has unimaginable ways of guiding us toward growth, resilience, and lasting happiness.
