62nd letter from Mihai

Wed 22 Oct, 2025 Colmar, France

Hey Reader,

I’m back in Colmar.
Back in our home.

This morning I did my workout, dropped Cléo at daycare, and sat down for my nine-to-twelve work block. I’m slowly finding rhythm again after the trip to Greece.

What I want to share today is something that came up during our last day in Corfu. I even wrote about it in my journal on the flight home. I called it the ghost work of parenting.

Yesterday morning I dropped my parents at the airport. Aurélie, Cléo, and my in-laws stayed behind and met me two hours later in Corfu Town. So I had two hours on my own after a week of guiding a multicultural and multilingual group of six (and a half).

To be honest, it felt like a relief.​
I didn’t have to decide for everyone or check in with anyone’s needs. I could just think about myself, go where I wanted, and waste time without guilt.

It was nice for a while, but it also reminded me of something.
​Being alone is easier, but it’s not more fulfilling.

When I traveled solo, I sometimes fell into this loop of chasing stimulation—trying to fill the space with something new, some next high. It feels like freedom, but after a while it turns into emptiness.

When I’m with others, it’s harder, but there’s meaning.

This week in Corfu, I was the one leading. Making plans, coordinating, keeping everyone happy. It took energy, but it also gave me a sense of direction.

That’s when I realized something simple: saying “I’m fine with anything” doesn’t actually make life easier for the other person. It just moves the weight onto their shoulders.

In families, decisions are constant. Big ones, like vaccines, schooling, or where we live. Small ones, like who buys milk, who plans dinner, who cleans up after meals. When we say “whatever you want,” what we often mean is “you decide.” And when that happens every day, the mental load becomes invisible but heavy.

That’s what I mean by the ghost work of parenting.

I’ve been guilty of it myself. I’ve said I’m easygoing, thinking it helps. It doesn’t. It leaves the other person carrying the invisible work of deciding, anticipating, remembering, preparing.

A while ago I wrote about taking more responsibility as a man. I still believe that’s how we grow—by holding more, not less. We build confidence through effort. We earn trust through consistency.

If you sit on a chair with a wobbly leg, you can’t relax. You never know if it will hold. That’s how our partners feel when we’re unreliable or inconsistent. But when we’re steady, when they can lean on us fully, something shifts.

This trip showed me that I can do it. It wasn’t the most relaxing holiday for me, but I gained self-trust. My partner could finally rest, my parents felt cared for, and I'm sure I scored some point with my in-laws.

That sense of stability, of being the steady chair, comes from taking ownership—not waiting to be asked.

It reminded me of another time in my life, during COVID, when I volunteered on a small permaculture farm in Portugal, near Porto. Nine people in a tiny house, no one in charge. I stepped up to organize the chores. One of them was taking out the trash. I picked it because I thought it was the hardest and dirtiest job. Later, during a sharing circle I hosted, I found out the others thought I chose it to avoid shopping.

I was shocked, but I took their feedback. The next week I took on shopping instead. I made a list, checked what we had, what we needed, what people wanted. It turned out to be easier than I expected because I enjoy systems and logistics. But not everyone does. For some, it’s stressful.

That’s when I realized how different people’s strengths are. What’s easy for me can be hard for someone else.

And that’s exactly what happens in families. I used to think packing for Cléo was simple, but for Aurélie it meant juggling a thousand other things.

In theory, she could just ask for help. But in real life, most people don’t. We hope the other notices.

That’s where initiative matters.

If you want to support your partner and build more trust, try this simple exercise. We call it Who Does What.​
Sit down together and make a list of every recurring task in your household. In the first column, write the task. In the second, who does it now. In the third, who would ideally do it.

When Aurélie and I did it, it wasn’t easy. Seeing everything written out made her sad. She realized she carried much more than I did. But it was honest. You can’t improve what you don’t see.

If you try it, do it when you’re both calm. Avoid blame or defense. This is about clarity, not scorekeeping. Start small. Maybe just list what you notice each of you doing, and ask what she feels would help most.

That’s leadership at home—showing initiative without waiting to be asked, showing care without expecting praise.

Sometimes it will be easier for you to handle a task because of your skills or mindset. Other times, it’s simply about presence. When she sees you holding things with her, she can finally relax.

That’s the real gift.

For me, The Rooted Dad and these letters all circle back to the same question:
What can a man do to lead and connect at home without expecting anything in return?

That’s the practice.
To support, engage, stay grounded, and thrive inside family life—not someday, but now.

One dad figuring it out, same as you.
​

P.S. These letters aren’t a broadcast, they’re a conversation. If something speaks to you, or even stirs you the wrong way, just hit reply. I read every message.

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