This is my journal entry from September 5, 2025, part of my daily autobiography The Kind Divorce — my real, unedited days, published in order.
I spent much of today immersed in the letter to my sisters. I had dictated the full version yesterday in voice memos—about an hour of speaking—which ChatGPT shaped into roughly ten pages of writing. This morning, I edited that draft for about an hour, refining it, adding in some new material, and correcting sections. My ex-wife offered her feedback as well, reminding me to be mindful that the letter strengthens my relationship with my sisters rather than risks damaging it, since she treasures our family barbecues. I remain clear about my intention: to communicate the love I have for my sisters, to share the healing experiences I’ve had with our father since his passing, and to offer them the same opportunity for peace if they wish it. The letter also carries pieces of my own story, giving them a deeper sense of who I am so that if they ever need me in the future, they know I am available.
My day began with a power yoga class at my yoga studio. It was a solid workout, and I gave my teacher, one of the studio’s co-owners, a hug afterward, telling her I’d miss her classes while I’m away in the mornings. That exchange felt warm and grounding. From there, I went to my Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, where I shared about the letter as both an amends to my father—helping to heal his relationship with his daughters even after his death—and as my own amends to them for his absence. A woman spoke before me and insisted that you cannot make amends to someone who has died. I disagree. I know from experience that you can. I’ve been able to do so with my father, and the transformations I’ve felt confirm it.
After the meeting and a quick snack at home, I had tea with a friend I met through AA. We spoke at length about eating and body image, two challenges we’ve both struggled with. She said something that deeply affirmed my desire to start massage school: that she has noticed massage therapists are often warm, loving, and accepting of the human body. That insight struck me. Over the years, I have felt that same acceptance during my own massages, where therapists poured love and care into my body, helping me to love it as well. I am eager to learn how to do this for others, to serve and cherish all kinds of bodies. For much of my life, I held rigid judgments—only certain bodies were beautiful and worthy of love, while others were merely tolerated or even despised. Massage school offers a chance to soften that conditioning and cultivate true respect for the full diversity of human bodies. That will benefit me not only in the practice of massage but in my writing as well.
Later, I enjoyed a lunch date with my ex-wife at a restaurant. Despite all the time we spent together in the morning and at lunch, I was just as excited to talk with her in the evening. That hunger for connection, the desire for more time no matter how much we already share, is one of the clearest signs of our strong relationship. My ex-wife told me she feels grateful to have made a new friend through tennis, since she hadn’t had that experience in a while. I reflected on how different I feel—I am constantly seeking new friendships, nurturing the ones I have, and taking time to deepen my connections. Just a month or two ago, before deleting everything online, I thought I needed more friends. Now I see that I’ve been filling my life with them in person, in ways that feel richer and more lasting.
Tonight, I played tennis at the tennis club against a man I played tennis with. From the moment we began warming up, I could tell he had extraordinary experience. He later told me he had been playing racquet sports for twenty years, everything from badminton to pickleball to tennis. His left-handed serve and forehand gave me problems I had never faced. In just forty minutes, he beat me in straight sets without my winning a single game. I was astonished by his skill. My own game collapsed in places, especially my serve, but I felt joy each time I managed to win a point against him. It was an honor to be on the court with someone so clearly superior, and I thanked him sincerely afterward. The match gave me a great sweat and, remarkably, we managed to finish before the rain came.
At the end of the night, I printed out the letter for my sisters, ready to send. Holding those pages in my hands, I felt both nervous and hopeful. Whatever happens, I know I poured my heart into it.
If you connect with how I live and think, you can follow the rest of my days on YouTube in my Life playlist.