A notification lit up my phone screen:

“Your friend needs you to fight! Come back to the Land of Dawn now!”

I chuckled to myself and tapped on the Mobile Legends alert. The loading screen spun, and within seconds, I was in the game lobby with four other players. One name stood out immediately. It was my son’s.

I smiled.

Moments like this remind me how different fatherhood feels today. Not because the world changed, but because I did.

The Job That Fills the Day, and the Stress That Follows You Home

My work routine is demanding. A 170-kilometer commute every day, juggling deadlines, handling pressure that doesn’t disappear when I clock out.

If you’ve been following my blog, you already know about this daily journey. That long drive used to be my “reset zone”, a space where I could listen to podcasts, observe quiet mornings, and slow the pace of my mind. I tried to use those hours on the road as a healing process, watching the landscape roll by, letting my thoughts settle.

Yet on many days, even those moments weren’t enough. By the time I reached home, the mental load came along with me. The stress still won.

And beyond work concerns, there’s the quiet, ongoing worry every parent carries: What are my kids exposed to today? What influences are shaping them? What are they doing at school, online? Are they safe?

I’ve always loved reading and worked hard to instill that same passion in my children. But the world they’re growing up in is nothing like the one I knew. They don’t just need books; they need someone who understands the digital space they live in. With technology moving at breakneck speed, I know they need to explore that landscape too. It’s unavoidable, really.

Finally Understanding My Parents

I remember being a child and wondering why my parents always seemed to be monitoring everything I did. I’d hide things from them, guard my privacy, push back against their rules. I assumed it was about control.

It wasn’t.

Now I see it clearly: it was about protection, shaped by experiences I only fully appreciate as an adult. I lost my eldest brother when he was just nine years old, and that single tragedy rewired how my parents saw the world. Every precaution, every question, every boundary they set was colored by that loss.

Now, with children of my own, I understand the instinct to guard and guide. I find myself doing the same things my parents did.

But I also remember the child I once was, wanting space, privacy, and trust. I remember what it felt like to be on the other side, the instinct to hide, to keep secrets, to carve out my own space.

That memory keeps me grounded. It pushes me to handle this differently, to be involved without becoming intrusive, present without being overbearing. Most importantly, it reminds me to build a relationship where my children feel safe coming to me instead of hiding from me.

I’m trying to become their friend first.

Learning to Speak Their Language

I learned very quickly that children open up when we understand what matters to them. The key is discovering what interests them, what lights them up. Then comes the hard part: actually learning about those things yourself.

Boys and girls need different approaches, I’ve discovered.

My sons love gaming. They speak in the language of strategies, heroes, cooldowns, and battle tactics. Initially, I worried about screen time, about them spending hours in front of a monitor. But then I made a decision: instead of treating gaming as the enemy, I would understand it.

I learned the game. I joined them online. I became part of their world, not to monitor them, but to connect. Now, instead of nagging them to stop playing, I’m the teammate they’re calling back to the Land of Dawn. Then I use the same language in our daily life, in encouraging him to study (I may share this later in another post if anyone want to know the story).

With my daughter, the bridge was different. Girls communicate through nuance, through small details slipped into stories, through moments where they choose to share if they feel seen. It’s been trickier, I’ll admit. But once I understood her interests, I approached them with the same curiosity and made the effort to join her in those spaces.

This shift created a different kind of bond, not just between parent and child, but between individuals genuinely interested in each other’s lives.

Leaving Work Where It Belongs

That’s when something fundamental shifted for me.

I made a conscious decision to stop dragging the office into my home. To leave my work at work and actually live my own life outside of it. To let my home be a place for living, not leftover stress. To let fatherhood become a role I enjoy, not a responsibility I rush through.

I began investing in my family with the same energy I used to reserve for work.

Only then did life start to make sense again.

And in that clarity, I discovered my purpose, a purpose that wasn’t tied to job titles, achievements, or recognition. I found my purpose, and I found my happiness. And both of those things live in my family.

If you don’t find this connection, you’ll start searching for happiness in other places. You’ll chase more money, seek acknowledgment and validation, throw yourself into activities just to stop feeling emotionally numb. And here’s what I’ve learned from nearly two decades of doing exactly that: even when you achieve those things, you realize they weren’t the purpose you were looking for all along.

The Illusion of Purpose in Material Pursuits

If your purpose is truly oriented toward material things, then go ahead and pursue that. I’m not here to judge. I spent the better part of twenty years chasing financial stability, believing it would eventually lead to fulfillment.

More income. More comfort. More security.

But I can tell you what I learned: financial comfort does not automatically translate into emotional contentment. Sure, having more money gives you less stress about day-to-day living. But it doesn’t solve as many problems as you’d think.

Instead, you’ll find that as income grows, desires grow with it. The appetite for “more” never stops expanding. And without real purpose, that hunger becomes a cycle of chasing, achieving, upgrading, yet never truly arriving.

That’s why some people with significantly less money are genuinely happy in their lives. Some families with far less live with far more peace because they’ve learned the value of enough. A stable home, food on the table, transport to get through the day. These form the foundation for contentment that isn’t tied to constant accumulation.

When Desire Disguises Itself as Purpose

Many of us fall into the trap of believing that luxury equals purpose.

A Mercedes in the driveway. The latest iPhone Pro Max. Premium brand clothes. A branded lifestyle.

These are desires, not direction.

Sometimes we convince ourselves that our purpose is to have more money. We work ourselves to exhaustion, drive ourselves to the breaking point, all because we want these symbols of success. Meanwhile, the painful reality is that some people chase these things so aggressively that they neglect the basics at home.

Children wear torn school uniforms while parents buy the latest gadgets. Families struggle with not enough food to eat while energy is spent on appearances.

This isn’t ambition. It’s misalignment.

That’s not a life goal. That’s uncontrolled desire disguised as purpose.

Purpose is not found in what we own, but in how we show up for the people who depend on us.

What Purpose Actually Looks Like

Real purpose isn’t about what you accumulate. It’s about who you become and who you show up for.

Purpose is built quietly, often invisibly.

A son who wants you in his game lobby because he genuinely enjoys your presence, not just in the game, but in life.

A daughter who shares stories because she knows you’ll listen, really listen.

A spouse who feels the difference when you are genuinely there, fully present.

Purpose is the decision to invest in relationships rather than in distractions. It is the ability to leave work at the door and enter your home as a whole person, not a drained one.

It is being present in that game lobby with your son, understanding what makes your daughter laugh, and recognizing that life’s most meaningful moments rarely come from the corporate world. They come from the people waiting for us to log in, sit down, listen, or simply be there.

In the End

Sometimes, purpose reveals itself in ways we don’t expect. It could be different for you.

For me, it was a simple notification on a screen: “Your friend needs you to fight! Come back to the Land of Dawn now!”

Because behind that message was someone who genuinely wanted me on his team, not just in a mobile game, but in the game of life.

And that is a kind of purpose no job title, no salary increase, no luxury purchase can ever replace.

They’ll call you back to the Land of Dawn because they want you there. And when you show up, you’ll realize: this is what you’ve been working for all along.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​