I’m just gonna say it, and like, I know this is bad, really bad, and I don't even know why I'm typing it out here, just feels like, maybe someone else… but anyway. So today, I did a thing. A thing that’s not okay. I poured vodka into my water bottle, you know, the fancy one, like, stainless steel? Before taking the kids to the park. The neighborhood park. With other parents. And their kids. And I just, like, sat there, trying to act normal, playing tag, pushing swings, and just... sipping. And it’s not like I do this all the time, not *really*, but it's been happening more, you know? Like, it started with just a little splash in my coffee after the kids were asleep, just to take the edge off, and then it was, like, dinner, and now it's... midday. And it's not like I'm drunk-drunk, I can still function, totally. But it's just, that little hum, that buzz, that makes the endless questions, the sticky hands, the constant need for ME... just a little bit quieter in my head. And I HATE that I'm even saying that, because they're great kids, you know? Just... A LOT. Like, today, before we even left, Liam was having a meltdown because his superhero cape wasn't "flying right" and Lily decided it was the perfect time to draw on the dog with permanent marker. PERMANENT. And my wife's got this big presentation, super high stakes, like, she’s been working 80-hour weeks, and she just calls from the office, all stressed, and asks if I "have everything under control." And I just said, "Yep, totally fine, don't worry about a thing," even though I was, like, actively wiping permanent marker off a bewildered poodle. And then, you know, I just looked at the clock and thought, "Park in twenty minutes. Can't show up empty-handed." So I just, like, walked into the kitchen, and there it was, the bottle of cheap vodka my brother-in-law left last Christmas, sitting on top of the fridge, and I just kinda stared at it for a second. And then I grabbed my water bottle, and I just... poured. A good amount. Like, a quarter of the bottle. And then I filled the rest with water, you know, to dilute it, and to make it look like just water, obviously. And I shook it up. Real quick. And then shoved it into my diaper bag, right next to the fruit snacks and the spare wipes. And my heart was POUNDING, like, so loud I thought the kids would hear it. And then we get to the park, and it's full of moms, mostly, and a few other dads, and they're all talking about preschool applications and summer camps and I'm just, like, nodding along, pretending to listen, while secretly counting how many sips I can take without anyone noticing. And this one mom, Brenda, she’s always, like, super intense, she comes over and starts telling me about her new keto diet and how she's got so much ENERGY now, and I just smiled and took another sip, and it was actually... nice. It was just a little easier to pretend I cared about carbs and intermittent fasting. And I know this is, like, a total cliche, right? The stay-at-home parent, secretly drinking. But it's not like I'm some lush, you know? I was, like, a regional sales manager. I used to manage a team of twenty people. I dealt with multimillion-dollar contracts. I used to have, like, actual grown-up conversations all day, about forecasts and market share. And now my biggest accomplishment is getting both kids to eat their broccoli without a twenty-minute negotiation. And don't get me wrong, I love them. I really do. But sometimes... sometimes I just feel like I'm drowning in glitter and goldfish crackers. And I keep thinking about my own dad, he was, like, a big corporate guy, always at the office, and I remember him coming home and just, like, having a scotch, quietly, in his study, and now I kinda get it. Not that he was, like, drinking all day, but just that need for… something. To just turn off the noise. And I guess that’s what this is for me. A way to just... turn off the noise for a little bit. And I hate that it’s this. I really do. But then later, after we got home, and the kids were napping, and I had, like, put away all the toys and cleaned up the lunch mess, and I just sat on the couch for a minute, and I actually felt… calm. Not totally calm, but just, like, a little less frantic. And I saw the water bottle, sitting on the counter, almost empty, and I just felt this wave of shame, you know? Like, what kind of father am I? What if someone found out? What if the kids… What if I screw this all up? And I guess that's why I'm here. Because I don't know who else to tell. And I don't know what to do about it. Because tomorrow, the kids will wake up, and they'll need me, and the permanent marker isn't completely gone from the dog, and my wife will still be at work, and I'll still be here, and the quiet will still be too loud sometimes. And I just... I don't know.