"Daddy, why don't you ever want to play with us anymore?"
Those words from my 7-year old daughter hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest.
I was slumped on the couch after another brutal 10-hour day framing houses, too exhausted to even lift my head when she walked into the room with her coloring book.
My wife Sarah was doing dishes in the kitchen, but I could feel her watching me from the corner of her eye...
the same look of disappointment I'd been seeing for months.
The truth is, I was physically present but completely checked out.
Every day was the same nightmare:
Drag myself out of bed at 5 AM feeling like I'd been hit by a truck, force down some coffee, and zombie-walk through another day of back-breaking work...
only to come home with absolutely nothing left for the people who mattered most.
Sarah used to greet me at the door with a smile and a kiss.
Now she barely looked up from whatever she was doing.
My kids used to run to me when I walked through the door.
Now they knew better than to bother "grumpy daddy."
But the breaking point came on a Tuesday night in March...
I was sitting in my usual spot on the couch, staring at my phone, when Sarah sat down next to me.
The kids were finally asleep after asking me three times to help with homework (I'd mumbled "ask your mother" each time).
"Do you even want to be here anymore?" she asked quietly.
"Because you act like we're just another burden you have to deal with."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
She was right.
I felt like I was failing everyone - ,my crew, my wife, my kids, and myself
I was 41 years old and felt like I was 70.
"I'm losing you," she whispered, tears in her eyes.
"The man I married is disappearing, and I don't know how to get him back."
That's when I realized the construction job wasn't just destroying my body...
It was destroying my family.