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Traveling for Work as a Father — And How I Cope

  • Writer: John
    John
  • Mar 29
  • 4 min read

Man with teddy bear backpack and woman walk down airplane aisle. Bright attire, empty blue seats, and overhead compartments visible.
Passengers with colorful backpacks and a teddy bear board an airplane, ready for new adventures.


I travel a lot for work. Enough that hotel coffee tastes like routine, airports feel like second homes, and I’ve memorized the layout of more rental cars than I care to admit. From the outside, it might look exciting — different cities, new faces, the kind of career mobility that says, "you’ve made it."


But here’s the truth:

Traveling for work as a father is complicated.


It’s guilt and gratitude in the same breath. It’s FaceTime bedtime stories. It’s missed soccer games. It’s making peace with the fact that you can provide and still feel like you’re missing something.


This is how I manage it — and what I’m still learning along the way.


The Guilt Comes in Waves


There’s this moment — every time — when I zip my bag shut the night before a trip and look over at my kids. My daughter is 3. My son is 9. Both of them know I’m leaving before they even ask.

“Will you be gone a long time?”


That question hits harder than it should. Because even a day feels long when you measure time in bedtime stories and “dad, look at this” moments.


The guilt is real. Not because I don’t love my work — I do. But because I know what I’m trading. Time. Presence. Physical proximity. The chance to say yes to another LEGO build or another attempt at a cartwheel.


I’ve learned not to shove that guilt down. I sit with it. Let it remind me that what I’m doing matters — not just the work, but the why behind the work.


The Rituals That Keep Me Grounded When Traveling For Work


Coping isn’t about pretending the distance doesn’t exist. It’s about building structure around it — things that remind me who I am and who I’m doing this for.


Here are a few rituals that keep me sane:

  • Video Calls at the Same Time Every NightMy kids know that no matter what city I’m in, 7:30 p.m. is “dad time.” Even if it’s short. Even if I’m tired.

  • Leave-Behind Notes or DrawingsBefore every trip, I leave a note on my son’s desk and one in my daughter’s room. A joke. A doodle. A promise to call. They look forward to it. So do I.

  • Photos From the RoadI send pictures of funny signs, cool buildings, or anything weird and interesting from whatever city I’m in. It sparks conversations and gives them a little window into my world.

  • One-on-One Time When I Get HomeRe-entry matters. I try to spend solo time with each of them — not to make up for being gone, but to reconnect without distraction.


These little things? They anchor me. And they help my family know they matter, even when I’m far away.


A bearded man with closed eyes holds his face, looking distressed. Brain diagrams on a teal background suggest mental strain or stress.
A man struggles with overwhelming stress and mental fatigue, symbolized by illustrated thought bubbles representing the brain and mental processes.


The Mental Load No One Talks About


There’s an emotional weight that comes with being away. It’s not just the absence — it’s the narrative you build while you're gone.


“Am I doing enough?” “Will they remember me being gone more than being there?” “Is this worth it?”

Add to that the practical stuff:

  • Who’s doing school drop-offs?

  • Is my wife okay?

  • Did I forget to tell her about the dentist appointment?


There’s a tension between providing and participating. I constantly work to make sure I’m not hiding behind one as an excuse to avoid the other.


I don’t always get that balance right.


But I try. And I talk about it. With my wife. With other dads. With my kids, in ways they can understand.

Reframing What "Being There" Means


I used to think being a good dad meant never missing anything. But that’s not reality. Life doesn’t work that way. Instead, I’ve tried to redefine what "being there" actually looks like:


  • Being emotionally present, even when I’m physically away

  • Listening fully when they share a story, not half-scrolling through Slack

  • Showing consistency in love, not just attendance


Presence isn’t measured by GPS. It’s measured by connection.


And connection is something you can build — even across time zones.



What I Hope My Kids See


One day, they’ll grow up and reflect on this version of me.


I hope they don’t just see the times I was gone. I hope they see:

  • That I worked hard to provide, but never let work define me

  • That I loved them relentlessly, even from a thousand miles away

  • That I showed up emotionally, even when I couldn’t show up physically

  • That I made effort visible

  • That I always came back — fully


Happy family running down an airplane aisle with smiles; dad in orange shirt, kids and mom in colorful clothes, hearts in background.
A joyful family rushes down the aisle of a plane, their faces beaming with excitement and love, as they embark on a new adventure together.

Final Thoughts


Traveling for work doesn’t make me less of a father.


But it makes me more intentional. More self-aware. More present when I’m home.


It’s not perfect. I miss things. I feel things. I carry weight.


But I also carry love, purpose, and the drive to keep showing up.


One trip, one bedtime call, one small note at a time.


What are some things you do when you are gone? Leave a comment below!

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