Emotional Highs and Lows at Dad 2.0 Summit

The Dad 2.0 Summit has always been an emotional experience for me.

I attended my first conference in New Orleans in 2018 and the weekend was the perfect embodiment of an psychological roller coaster. I read a blog post for all of the attendees and realized I was slightly more well-known than I thought. I pushed myself to attend every session; by the end, I was drained physically, as well as emotionally.

I prepared more effectively for last year’s Summit in San Antonio. I planned which sessions would be the most meaningful to me and focused on developing stronger connections with brands. I also made sure to take time to myself when I needed to, including walking around the city alone one evening.

This past weekend was my third time as an attendee and the charm was definitely on. I knew which panels I was going to attend and which brands would be a good match for me (stay tuned for more content on that front). I also made the most of unstructured social moments, as opposed to only working the business angles.

But on Saturday afternoon, I hit a wall.

The speakers on Friday told amazing stories about parenting, relationships and personal growth. I listened to Kenneth Kellogg recount his personal struggles with adjusting to the idea of being a father, which were remarkably similar to my own. I watched Will Jawando describe learning about fatherhood from seven different men, as opposed to only from his biological father. I heard about raising a family in different parts of the world from Dan Kois; the fight to balance work, family and sanity from Taylor Calmus; and the meaning of influence vs. influencers from Jason Falls. I applauded each of the Spotlight Bloggers who read their works for the crowd, just as I had two years earlier.

Oh, and I watched this video about child predation from Bark that left me in tears.

The activities on Saturday involved more presenters but carried just as much impact. I began the day by filming a video for Dove Men+Care about talking to teens,¹ followed by attending panels on figuring out one’s priorities and building an Instagram platform. I filmed another video,² this time for Responsibility.org, and sat in on a discussion with military veterans and their family members about fathers working to become re-acclimated to civilian life. The panel after lunch focused on work-work balance – which, for someone with a full-time job, multiple part-time jobs, a family and a blog, hit quite close to home.

But, after internalizing so much information, I was overwhelmed. My brain was fried from the combination of not enough sleep and too much caffeine.

I needed a break.

I’m just tired, I thought to myself. I went back to my hotel room with the intent of closing my eyes and resetting my emotional barometer. My heartbeat refused to slow down, though, and my thoughts raced at a similar speed.

I decided finally to give up my futile search for relaxation but I didn’t return to the conference immediately. I sat at the table in the room, propped up my laptop to get the right angle and pressed “Record.”

The words began tumbling out, as though I was writing a blog post that had come into my head fully formed. The stream-of-consciousness vent gathered momentum quickly and I did my best to keep up. I moved from my reactions to the speakers to the similarities between their stories my own and on to the greater meaning of the conference. The tangled stress ball of feelings eventually began to unravel, gradually falling into more orderly patterns.

I stopped the video and took a few deep breaths. The tension that I hadn’t realized had built up between my shoulder blades finally started easing. I made my way back downstairs for the final panel and the closing remarks before catching my cab back to the train station.

I was surprised at how restored I felt. I’ve never been comfortable speaking my thoughts out loud and certainly not doing so on video. As I mentioned when I started recording, my comfort and strength lie more in my written words than extemporaneous speeches. But Dad 2.0, in addition to serving as a matchmaker between brands and fathers, also creates the space for exploration of one’s emotions about family and relationships. Each time I’ve attended, I’ve come away with a clearer vision of my purpose as a father and a husband. And, while I still have work to do in both of those areas, I’m thankful for the support I’ve received from my fellow attendees and, most of all, from my wife, as I continue on this journey.

^{1. I’ll probably post this on Instagram. Stay tuned.↩}

^{2. The rep from Responsibility.org filmed this one so I have to get a copy before I can post it.↩}