The day my girlfriend left with my daughter was the darkest day of my life. I spent that first week locked in my apartment, the blinds drawn, drinking whiskey and smoking weed all day – trying in vain to numb the pain. I was alone. My family was gone, and with it, a lifetime of hopes and dreams – having a wife, a family, all of us living happily under one roof supporting one another. Over. I didn’t know what the future held, but it didn’t feel good. I dreaded waking up, facing a future that I didn’t want, nor knew how to navigate or endure. My life felt like a waking nightmare. I tried my best to be real with myself: Our daughter was basically an “accident” – an unplanned pregnancy with a woman that I had been dating for a couple of months. We were a mismatched couple, constantly fighting, having very little in common. I was 22, she was 21, and together we were a hot mess of youth, delusion and small town compromises. In the town that I grew up in, you dated whoever was available (i.e., not married and over 18). From the moment that I found out she was pregnant, I had known this apocalyptic day was inevitable. I had simply been prolonging it, desperate to spend as much time as I could with my daughter before the bomb went off. And herein was one of my first big life lessons: Just because you know something difficult is coming doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.
Nineteen years later, the story is still unfolding, in ways that I could have never conceived. It is still difficult, and yet wonderful and miraculous. As I sit here at this computer and type, I am preparing for my second child to be born (due February 2019), and eagerly anticipating getting home tonight to my wonderful hippie-wife/baby-mama. I am blessed beyond my wildest dreams with a new family, home, health and wealth. My daughter is attending University in Washington State, and we have a caring, connected relationship. She is a huge source of joy and fulfillment to me. Those dark days are a distant memory, echoes of another time and place long left behind. I believe in miracles, because my life is one, and continues to be. In that dark, smoky apartment 19 years ago, I could have never pictured the life that I am currently living.
As hard as it is to write about this experience, I am doing it for a very good reason, to let all of my readers know this: No matter what horrible experiences you have been through with relationship, love, or family, there is always hope for healing, for a new experience, for new love, for new family, for miracles. You might be fresh off a nasty breakup or divorce… your family may have just split up and you’re mired in a custody battle… your wife or husband may have just died… love is indeed a battlefield, and it can leave you broken and bleeding, with no hope of a better day. I so understand, and my heart goes out to you.
I truly believe that the universe is a forgiving, generous place of continued renewal and rebirth. You can love again. You can heal the wounds in your heart and carry on to a brighter day. I’m not saying it will be easy. In fact, it will be the hardest thing that you ever do. But it will also be the most glorious thing that you ever do. To be heroic, to pick yourself up after love and life has ravaged you and left you for dead – and dare to love again! Why? Because you’re alive, goddamnit, and to live is to love and to love is to live, and we all need you to live.
I’m here to help you. I understand pain, defeat, cynicism about love and relationships – and the deep desire to move past these feelings. You don’t have to do it alone. Contact me, and let’s get started on the single most important mission you will ever undertake: To love again after you heart has been broken beyond what you thought you could bear. Yes, the path is treacherous, and the work is rigorous, but the rewards are beyond your wildest dreams. Let’s dream together and create a more beautiful world, one healthy relationship at a time.