This is my journal entry from November 28, 2025, part of my daily autobiography Divorce Day — my real, unedited days, published in order.
I went to another vinyasa flow class today at Plymouth Yoga Room, and honestly, it felt like my manifesting was working a little too well. Holy shit. There were two absolutely stunning women directly in front of me the entire class. We’re all sweating, moving, breathing, flowing, and it’s just… beautiful. I had literally asked for a sign that I was in the right place and wondered what kind of women might be available to date up here, and the answer felt immediate and very clear. I was grateful just to watch. For me, there’s something deeply satisfying about witnessing a beautiful woman’s body move with strength and grace while I’m also fully in my own body, working hard, present, and alive. At one point I thought, maybe I should say something to them. Then I caught myself and laughed internally. Can we relax for a second? You’re in the middle of figuring out your entire life. Maybe today isn’t the day to flirt or try to pick someone up. Just take the day off. Once your ass actually moves up here, you’ll have plenty of time to date. No rush.
After yoga, I went back to my sister’s place, showered, and ate some leftover beef stroganoff. Then I headed over to my cousin’s house. He has a five-year-old daughter and one-year-old fraternal twins. I arrived right as he was getting ready to put the twins down for a nap. Their two golden retrievers went completely nuts when I walked in, jumping all over me and losing their minds with excitement. Once things settled down, I hung out with his five-year-old daughter for about thirty minutes while she proudly showed me all her toys and worked on making something for her mom. I asked my cousin if there was anything I could do to help, and I ended up putting some toys away with her before we played Hungry Hungry Hippos and Candy Land—the Bluey version. It felt easy and natural, like slipping into a role I didn’t even realize I’d been missing.
At some point, I told my cousin that I’m thinking about moving up here. His reaction stopped me cold. His entire face lit up—his eyes, his smile, everything. It was pure joy. I remember thinking, wow, look at that. Look at how much happiness could come from this decision for just one family member alone. I also got some truly incredible baby snuggles. His son, just over a year old and already walking, wanted me to hold him, and I ended up snuggling the shit out of that baby for a solid thirty minutes. Holding him, feeling his little body relax into me, I had this overwhelming sense of rightness. This is what I need. This is it. I need to be able to drive over to my cousin’s house and snuggle his babies. It fills something in me that makes everything else fall into place. It leaves me feeling whole, like my life actually makes sense. This is exactly what I don’t have in St. Pete. I don’t have anyone’s house I can just go to and hold their babies. Maybe technically I could find something like that, but what’s here is rich in a way that feels irreplaceable.
Before his wife got home, my cousin opened up to me about his own challenges, what he’s been dealing with in his life, and he shared his thoughts about mine. He told me plainly that they’d love to have me up here, that if my ex-wife and the kids are okay with it, then they’re absolutely on board. When his wife came home, the conversation continued, and right before I left, she said something that really landed. She told me it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. If I know what the right thing is for my family, for my ex, for my kids, and for taking care of myself, then that’s what matters. If the best thing is for me to come up here, then it doesn’t matter if other people initially have opinions. They’ll get on board. I had been worrying out loud that my cousin’s mom or my other aunt might see it as me abandoning my kids. Hearing her say, calmly and confidently, that it doesn’t matter—that if this is the place where I want to build a life and the people most directly impacted are okay with it—felt incredibly grounding. It made the whole idea feel not just possible, but supported.
After I got back to my sister’s house, I had another helping of beef stroganoff for dinner. We ended up talking for hours. A lot of it was focused on the fact that I’m meeting my aunt tomorrow and that she may very well line up in opposition to the idea of me moving up here. I told my sister I’m genuinely interested in hearing what my aunt has to say, but I also need to be prepared. We walked through all the different angles together—what’s actually best for me, what’s best for the kids, and how to hold that tension honestly. Am I abandoning my kids if I move a thousand miles away from them? Or are they being abandoned, to some degree, either way, since I’m not going to see them every day regardless? Isn’t the best thing I can do to build a life where I’m thriving, where my kids can be part of it, and where they would actually want to participate in my life? That feels like the most honest answer I have. After hours of talking it through, that position feels solid to me.
Later, we went to Starbucks downtown in Plymouth. I got a peppermint hot chocolate. It was beautiful out, and the place was full of families. There was a teenager there—a freshman, probably—who I’d just seen at my sister’s house a couple days earlier. He was there on his own, not with my niece. Then, about ten minutes later, my sister was talking with her daughter, and her daughter said, “Hey, you saw that guy at Starbucks?” Apparently things hadn’t gone well between the two of them since I last saw him. I was struck by how fast people communicate and how quickly information moves through these social networks. I really enjoyed sitting there with my sister, soaking in the environment, feeling how right this kind of life feels—having multiple family members nearby, places to go together, and shared routines.
From there, we went to an AA meeting. There was only one other guy there. He’d been part of starting the meeting, and the whole thing reminded me of the meeting I started in St. Pete. It felt meaningful to be there. If we hadn’t shown up, he would’ve been sitting alone. My sister and I shared where we’re at and what we’re going through, and he listened for a good twenty minutes. He shared first, then we did. After the meeting, we went to the grocery store together. The whole evening felt simple and quietly profound. I kept thinking about how grateful I am that this exists for me, because I know a lot of people don’t have family like this anywhere in the world.
At the same time, it feels almost silly to not participate in this kind of abundance, to get tunnel vision and act like the only thing that matters in life is my kids. I love my kids deeply. There is no one in the world I care more about. And still, there are so many other people here to love. My kids are taken care of extremely well. I noticed something tonight that’s hard to ignore: not once have they actually said they miss me while I’ve been gone. That doesn’t mean they don’t miss me, but they’re not walking around every day desperate for me to come home. They have a good life. They live day to day. When people are around them loving them consistently, that’s what matters most to them. And they don’t seem especially picky about who it is, especially with their mom there taking care of them.
I FaceTimed the kids tonight, and it felt right. The first couple of nights I was here, FaceTiming them made me feel overwhelmingly sad. I kept thinking, I can’t do this long-term. I can’t have this be the future of my relationship with them. Then something finally clicked. The future of my relationship with my kids is probably going to involve more days on FaceTime than in person, and that’s not some personal failure—it’s the reality of divorce. When you get divorced, you don’t see your kids as much. I hadn’t really let that sink in before. My ex-wife wants to see the kids as much as possible, and I want to support that. I don’t want to structure my life in a way that forces her to have less time with them just so I can feel better about proximity.
My ex-wife said that as long as she could come up here with the kids, especially during the summers, she would support me living up here. Hearing that felt grounding and relieving. At the same time, I haven’t talked to the kids about it yet, and it’s starting to feel uncomfortable. I feel like I’m not being fully honest or genuine with them while I’m sitting on something this big—where I might live, how often I might see them. I need to hear from them. I don’t think I can think clearly without knowing how they actually feel. If the kids were to say, “Dad, we can’t have you that far away. We need you to live near us,” then that’s it. I won’t move. I’m not going to override that. So I need to hear their truth. I also want to hear from my aunt. If she were to say she can’t support this, that could complicate things, especially if it creates a split in the family. I don’t want that. But that’s tomorrow’s conversation.
After we got back from the store, my nephew was up for playing Uno No Mercy, which turned out to be incredibly fun. He doesn’t remember all the rules perfectly, but that almost made it better. At one point, I dropped a Draw 10 on top of his Draw 10, which turned into a Draw 20, and he just lost it. We were laughing, talking trash, and sharing stories with my sister. I felt genuinely grateful to be there with him. He’s my sister’s son, not my son, but loving him, showing up for him, and being present in his life matters. It counts.
There’s something that really landed for me in that moment. If I’m not here, he’s probably home alone most of the day. That space stays empty. When I am here, that space gets filled. My presence adds something to his life. And yes, someone could argue that being present for my kids matters more—but their cups are already full. My ex-wife, her family, and my mom were all there for Thanksgiving. They’re surrounded by love and support. My nephew still has room for someone to show up consistently, to spend time with him, to be another steady adult in his world. Being that person matters too.
I went to bed feeling deeply grateful for the day, for the time with my family, and for the clarity that’s slowly forming. I’m also very curious—and a little nervous—about how tomorrow is going to unfold.
If you connect with how I live and think, you can follow the rest of my days on YouTube in my Life playlist.