Three months into fatherhood, David loved his daughter but couldn't shake the feeling that he'd lost himself. Lound helped him process the identity shift and find who he was becoming.
David, 34, and his wife Maya welcomed their daughter Lily three months ago. Everyone says it's the best thing that ever happened to him. And it is. But also: he hasn't played guitar in months. His friends feel distant. He can't remember the last time he had a thought that wasn't about diapers or sleep schedules.
He feels guilty for feeling this way. What kind of dad feels lost holding his own baby?
"Can't sleep. Lily's finally down. I should be passed out but my brain won't stop. I saw my guitar in the corner today. It's got dust on it. I used to play every day. Now I can't remember the last time. Who even am I anymore? Just... some guy who changes diapers?"
"The guys invited me to watch the game. I said no. Lily was being fussy and Maya looked exhausted. But honestly? I also just... didn't have the energy to be 'David' around them. The old David. I don't know who that is anymore."
"I feel guilty even saying this out loud. I love Lily. I do. But sometimes I miss my old life. The freedom. The spontaneity. Does that make me a bad dad? Everyone posts about how magical this is and I just feel... tired and lost."
What you're feeling has a name. It's called identity grief. It's mourning the person you were while becoming someone new. It doesn't mean you're a bad dad. It means you're human.
The guilt you feel for missing your old life? That's actually evidence of how much you love Lily. You wouldn't feel guilty if you didn't care about being a good dad.
So I'm just supposed to accept that I'll never be me again?
Not at all. The question isn't "old David or Dad David." It's "what parts of old David does Dad David still need?" Look at what you've mentioned missing most: guitar, friends, spontaneity. Which one feels most essential to who you are?
The guitar, probably. Music was always my way of processing things.
So music isn't something you do. It's how you think. What if you didn't need an hour to play? What if 10 minutes while Lily naps was enough to remember who you are?
Not to become the old David. To let the new David have access to the same tools.
10 minutes. I could do 10 minutes. That's not impossible.
"Lily went down for her nap. Instead of doom-scrolling, I picked up the guitar. Just 10 minutes. I played that song I wrote in college. My fingers remembered even though my brain felt rusty."
"When I stopped, I felt... more like myself than I have in months. Not the old self. But not just 'dad' either. Both."
You've mentioned guitar in 5 entries now. The first one said "rusty." The last one said "writing something new." That's not a hobby. That's you coming back to life. What else from old David might new David need?
David didn't need to choose between being a dad and being himself. He needed to integrate them.
"Identity grief." Having a name for it made it less shameful.
Not an hour of guitar. Ten minutes. Sustainable, repeatable, real.
Not old David vs. Dad David. New David with access to both.
David still changes a lot of diapers. But now he plays guitar during naps. He started a "new dad" group chat with his friends who are also fathers. He's writing a lullaby for Lily. The old David isn't gone. He's just grown. And he's learning to love who he's becoming.
Big life changes, like new parenthood, moving, career shifts, or loss, can leave you feeling like a stranger to yourself. Lound helps you process who you're becoming while honoring who you were.