November 8th, 2025
2:30 AM

This is it. I’m finally going to do it.

    I thought to myself as the words I wanted to say tried to form coherently in my head. I needed to get them out and onto paper before they were lost to the dark recesses of my mind.

I rolled out of bed and dug through my laptop bag until I felt what I was looking for. My journal. Or at this point I should just call it what it really is, a diary. This 8x10, leather bound, secret keeper had been my companion since the beginning of the year. What started out as my notes on “The science of well-being”, the online course through Yale. Was slowly and methodically adapting into a diary of a divorce. The words flowed out of me. One after another, chasing each other like rocks tumbling down the side of a mountain. By the time she arrived home, I was ready.

“I need you to know how much I love you.

But I also need to let you know how I’m feeling.

I don’t want to continue down this path we are on.

I don’t want to force you to change or be someone you don’t want to be.

But I can’t keep going on forcing myself to be someone I don’t want to be either.

I’m not ok with our relationship dynamic.

We want different things out of life, and I don’t feel like we have a shared vision of the future.

We’ve been here before and we keep saying things will change, but they don’t.

I feel like we are trying so hard to hold onto something we both know isn’t working.

I love you so much, but if I continue to hold these feelings down I’m afraid I’m going to resent you.

I don’t want to do that.

I want you to be happy.

I want to be happy.

I’m just not sure if that means we are happy together.

Whatever we decide, it’s going to be hard.

But we need to start making those choices soon.

I’ve reached my breaking point.

I’m no longer going to continue down a path I don’t want to walk down.”

    I closed the book and rested my hands on top of it as we laid in bed. I asked if she understood what I meant and she nodded her head. The first interaction we had since she walked into the bedroom. Her eyes wet and bloodshot, some from the tears welling up, but mostly from the drinking. It was late, and she was not in the right head space to finish this conversation.

She rolled over and went to sleep.

I rolled over and got out of bed.

I didn’t know what to do. So I did something that I used to do, something that could turn my brain off, so I could just be. I wrote.

The beginning of the end

Last week I had the strangest dream

Where everything was exactly how it seemed

Where there was never any mystery of who shot John F. Kennedy

It was just a man with something to prove

Slightly bored and severely confused

He steadied his rifle with his target in the center

And became famous on that day in November

 ~ The Postal Service 

    We think these major shifts in our lives will come with a sign. A significant event, a bright flash, or with a thunderous eruption. When in reality most are slow. Slow accumulations of repeated singular events, that over time, reach their tipping point. It doesn’t fall off the table and crash against the hard wood floor. It’s much slower, as if caught in a location where gravity has less effect. The pull is there but it lingers just a bit longer than it should. We hold on to these moments, second guessing our decisions and thinking maybe, just maybe, if it tips back the other way or we catch it, things will be ok. But we know deep down they won't. Even if it doesn’t tip over this time there will be another. Sometimes we just have to find the courage to let it fall, so we can begin the process of picking up the pieces and moving on. 

Chapter 1

    I have no idea what I’m doing. Or even what this is. Right now I’m sitting alone in a coffee shop. Drinking my iced dirty chai (decaf) and trying really hard to do something productive instead of reading my book. I’ve picked up a new series to help keep my mind occupied. I feel like it’s better than the alternative. Scrolling on social media or binging Netflix, which I spent the better portion of the last few weeks doing as well. At least with a book, I feel less like a piece of shit for spending hours staring at it for relatively no benefit. Or maybe I’m just being too hard on myself. Life can be tricky that way. Nothing is ever what it seems at the moment. It’s only looking back that we see or realize our faults or brilliance. So back to where I am right now. This faded and worn faux leather couch. The back rest, non-existent. The table in front of me, far too low to be useful, my laptop quite literally on top of my lap.

Stop bitching!

 The thought just popped into my head. Giving me an amused smile. I hope it did the same for you. If you’re reading this now, chances are you could use one of those, a smile that is... Unless you read these kinds of things for fun. If that’s the case, I hope you don’t send me any fan letters…

I suppose I could try and make sense of the whole thing. Maybe go back to the beginning and try to work out what happened? Where did it start? I have my journals, my diaries. I’ve been logging for a while now. There has to be something hidden within those pages right? Maybe if I look through them I could remember, and in turn, maybe I could help you. We could help each other. These are lonely times my friend. Is it ok if I call you that? My friend? I know we don’t know each other yet, but I feel strangely connected to you. Like somehow I’m right here with you as you read these words in your head. Kinda creepy now that I say it out loud. Sorry for invading your personal space. But at this point you basically invited me in. Don’t you know the first rule about vampires?

Ok, ok, I’ll get back to the story at hand. Jeez, can't a writer have a little fun with their audience from time to time. All business with you I see. I’ll try to stick to the script moving forward (no promises though).

Where were we? That’s a fun phrase… sorry, last time I swear.

Right, looking back at the beginning trying to help myself remember so I can help you now, right, right. The good news is, I was pretty good at keeping track of my “Feelings”. I’m putting that in quotes because they were not always truly how I felt. I remember writing these “feelings” down knowing they weren’t true, but I wanted them to be so badly that I was trying to trick myself. Is this making any sense to you?

I think I might be getting ahead of myself. Let me try and explain as we jump back in time. To Christmas of 2021. I’d just been gifted my first journal. Like every new found self-help evangelist, I wanted to start tracking my goals. All 23 of them. Every single day. Do you know how exhausting it is to write down 23 goals everyday, for a year?! No?

I don’t either. I think that sickness only lasted a few months. I can’t say for sure. Back then I did a terrible job of tracking the date of the entries. What I can tell you is how I dictated the opening page.

Here lies the thoughts and goals of…

Hmmmm, I seem to be at an interesting crossroads. Do I introduce myself now or keep it a mystery? I’ve been thinking this whole time of keeping it anonymous, to avoid the backlash it might incur. But, on the other hand I don’t want to hide or be ashamed of what I’m doing.

Decisions, decisions.

I think I’ll leave it vague for now, and let the mystery consume you until you can no longer handle it. You'll lose sleep over it. Possibly even lose your job because you stopped going into the office. And even when you were in, you wasted your days scouring the internet trying to peel off my mask of anonymity.

That sounds like more fun.

“Here lies the thoughts and goals of (yours truly). May the future be more than you hoped and happier than you dream. Put family first, as you strive for progress. Rome was not built in a day, things of great magnitude take time to flourish and grow. Your life is only beginning. May the road ahead be filled with obstacles to make you strong, pits stops to recharge,”

That’s all it said. Well the spelling errors have thankfully been corrected in this version, but that’s it. I know what you're thinking. That’s it? That’s how it ended? The answer is, yes. It was over four years ago to the day I wrote it and I can’t for the life of me figure out where I was going with it either. I’d probably just finished a Jim Rohn motivation speech (if you don’t know who that is I highly recommend checking out one of his seminars. There are a lot of crack pots out there, he’s pretty good). Anyways I was probably feeling inspired and wanted to motivate myself every time I opened the journal. It didn’t work.

The next sixty pages or so were just as described at the intro. A list of 18-23 goals written in list form. For example number one:

 "I am spending more focused/quality time with my daughter. At least one hour of play a day.”

Or how about this:

 “I have been accepted into Forbes 30 under 30” (hey that gives a clue to the mystery… I probably shouldn’t have pointed that part out, but I couldn’t help myself).

I really wish I would have followed through on this one:

“I have couches for health, wealth, and happiness by 2023.”

Out of the twenty-one goals listed I can confidently say I’ve completed two. That’s 9.5% of the goals written down. Well, that was a slightly depressing trip down memory lane. How can we turn this around? Any thoughts? That’s fine, take your time. I’ll wait.

To be continued... CHAPTER 2