This is my journal entry from September 10, 2025, part of my daily autobiography The Kind Divorce — my real, unedited days, published in order.
The third day of massage school was fantastic. We had our first anatomy and physiology class, taught by my anatomy instructor. His energy filled the room, and he had a way of making complex concepts simple and approachable. Sitting on the yoga ball again helped me stay engaged, and I appreciated how the school has everything set up to make learning easier. The notes were pre-written with blanks to fill in, so we could focus on key points without scrambling to keep up. My anatomy instructor also records every lecture and posts them in the GroupMe chat for playback. My plan is to record shorter, more focused versions myself and share them with the class, then replay those while driving to study for quizzes. The whole system feels digestible and accessible, and I’m grateful for that.
I felt genuine excitement as I began learning about the body. More than anything, I want to understand it thoroughly so I can become a truly skilled massage therapist. Lunch was simple and satisfying: roasted potatoes and carrots I made last night seasoned with tahini, olive oil, rosemary, salt, and topped with hot peppers from my tennis coach, my tennis coach. After lunch came our very first hands-on exercise. It was as basic as possible—simply placing our hands on another person and practicing gentle compressions.
Despite massage being something I receive every week as a client, I found myself incredibly awkward when it was my turn. My partner was a classmate, and even the act of laying my hands on her felt strange. Society conditions us to avoid touch, to the point where it can be considered battery to put your hands on someone without permission, even in a harmless way. The context shift was striking. Here, touch was not only appropriate but essential, yet I still hesitated.
Driving home afterward, I reflected on that awkwardness. A classmate’s touch on me, no matter how basic or uncertain, felt wonderful. Anything short of being too rough or compressing in the wrong spots was enjoyable. It reminded me how much the body simply appreciates caring contact. Tomorrow, when we practice again, I want to carry a clear intention: place my hands on this person to help them feel good, to release tension, to bring relief. That shift in mindset should make me more confident.
Earlier in the day, I dictated more material for I Was Famous on the Internet. In the morning I recorded over an hour, which produced thousands of words, and then added another hour on the way to pick up the kids. It felt productive and satisfying. After school, I picked them up and later took my daughter to basketball practice at the YMCA. I love these evenings with her. While she plays on half the court, the other baskets are open, which gives me a chance to shoot around.
I made seventy-five three-pointers during her hour-long practice. That number amazes me. The younger versions of myself—middle school, high school, even college Jerry—would not believe it. I used to think I couldn’t shoot threes at all and would get frustrated even practicing. Now I can string together two, three, even four in a row. My form may not be textbook, but my body adapts naturally, and the shots go in more often than they ever have. It fills me with pride to know I’m better now than I ever was.
Of course, I didn’t spend the whole-time shooting. I watched my daughter play and loved seeing her more attentive to the ball this time. More importantly, she’s having fun, learning new skills, and building connections with her teammates. Basketball is becoming a joyful shared experience for us. My ex-wife does most activities with the kids, but basketball is ours, and I cherish that bond.
After we got home, I went straight to my Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. I saw a few familiar faces and shared about how essential massage has been to my sobriety. Relaxation, presence, and physical care have all played vital roles in keeping me steady. Life feels so good right now that it sometimes surprises me. After the meeting, I spoke with a man I had encouraged a few weeks back. He hadn’t followed any of my suggestions, though he remained sober. It always baffles me to see how resistant people can be, even when they say they want the very things I have. Change is miraculous, really—anytime someone’s mind opens enough to embrace it, it feels like a small miracle.
If you connect with how I live and think, you can follow the rest of my days on YouTube in my Life playlist.