This is my journal entry from August 30, 2025, part of my daily autobiography The Kind Divorce — my real, unedited days, published in order.
After hours of work wrapping up Author in St. Petersburg, I finally submitted it to Amazon today. I used ChatGPT to lightly edit the manuscript, filled out every detail for the listing, and designed both the print and Kindle covers from scratch in Photoshop. It feels like a major milestone. This is the first book I’ve submitted to Amazon in years, and even though it’s still under review, I feel a surge of excitement knowing the project is moving forward.
At the same time, I’m unsure where this next book fits in. I don’t have a title or a clear theme yet, and I briefly considered adding another week of entries to Author in St. Petersburg before shifting into a new book about starting massage school. Efficiency made that idea appealing, but finishing and releasing projects has its own importance. Now that the manuscript is locked in, I can get feedback on the full workflow. If the review goes smoothly, I’ll order a proof copy, make any final edits before massage school begins, and have books ready to share in person. That possibility fills me with gratitude.
The finished book runs to twenty-nine days of diaries plus an introduction, totaling fifty-one thousand words. That’s enough. The cover design came together beautifully—family photos, my own picture, clean text, and a short description on the back. I’m proud that I did it myself. A few years ago, I would have paid someone else to create it because I hadn’t taken the time to learn Adobe Photoshop. I can see now how much needless frustration I went through outsourcing things I could have taught myself in a few hours. I wonder how many other areas of life I’ve handled that way—paying, struggling, and depending on others for skills I could learn myself. Car maintenance comes to mind. Could I master it that easily? Perhaps, though it carries more risk than designing a book cover.
Yesterday, I got the RAV4 back from the Toyota dealership, and thankfully the bill was only $236. That covered a wheel alignment, new wipers, and a brake adjustment to fix a small squeak. Now the car feels ready for serious commuting again. This morning, I mowed and edged the yard, which always brings me satisfaction, especially when my ex-wife my ex-wife praises how it looks. I even weeded the garden—something she doesn’t enjoy as much despite her love for gardening—so everything is tidy and ready for her to plant inside the garden cages. By the time I finished outside, I was drenched with sweat. I showered quickly and then went to a power yoga flow at my yoga studio with an instructor I hadn’t taken before. Only a handful of us showed up, which left plenty of space to focus deeply on the practice.
Later, I called my sponsor to talk about something that has been bothering me. For the past couple of days, I’ve had obsessive thoughts about a girl I hardly know. My mind has been spinning, imagining scenarios and tangents as if I were back in my single days, pursuing a first date. I’ve caught myself frustrated, asking why these old mental programs are still running. She is undeniably attractive, but the thoughts feel disproportionate, almost like an automatic script from years ago. Usually asking whether someone is single or in a relationship shuts down that line of thought somewhat, but I don’t know this girl enough to even have that information.
Part of me recognizes that I must enjoy the distraction on some level. At least I’m not endlessly fixating on myself, which I suppose is a small improvement. Still, I wonder if this kind of obsession stems from fear—fear that my marriage might not last, fear of not being able to remain loyal, fear that the universe won’t continue to provide relationships, friendships, and connections. It’s self-centered fear in a subtler form. I don’t always understand what my mind is doing, but I try not to be angry with it. Talking with my sponsor helped, and listening to his experiences gave me perspective.
I debated leaving all of this out of today’s entry. It feels embarrassing to admit, especially with my ex-wife and me in such a beautiful rhythm lately—feeling more connected and close than at any point in the last decade, our marriage steady and fulfilling. Yet honesty demands that I write it down. My ex-wife understands me, and I trust she would not be shaken by these thoughts. Men struggle with this kind of thing more openly, though I imagine women experience it too.
Tonight, I feel grateful for something as simple as a full belly. Lunch was a big salad, and dinner ended up being pecans, almond butter with honey, chocolate chips, and a banana. Simple food, yet deeply satisfying. While eating, I listened to Braiding Sweetgrass and found myself reflecting on the relationship we have—or often fail to have—with the Earth. The author speaks of sustainable harvesting and Indigenous wisdom, describing how cultures once lived in balance, never taking more than half, only using what they truly needed. They viewed trees, animals, waters, and mountains as living beings to be respected and related to. That vision feels so distant from today’s reality that it sometimes seems hopeless to even attempt it.
Still, I see the value in trying. We compost. We plant trees. Today I ate lettuce I grew myself, and it tasted far more nourishing than anything from the store. Yet the garden is hard work. Rats often have eaten much of what we grow, and predators that might balance them out—like feral cats—are rare in our area. A small family of feral cats hangs around the house now, and while my ex-wife wants to call animal control, I say let them stay. Maybe they’ll scare the rats away.
If you connect with how I live and think, you can follow the rest of my days on YouTube in my Life playlist.