This is my journal entry from November 30, 2025, part of my daily autobiography Divorce Day — my real, unedited days, published in order.
I went to the 11:30 a.m. yoga flow this morning in downtown Plymouth, then headed to Starbucks in Northville to meet my aunt. It had snowed about three inches overnight, and everything was covered. The snow was absolutely beautiful—quiet, clean, everywhere. I loved it. When I met my aunt, we both had a lot of energy and were genuinely happy to see each other. The tone was completely different from the day before. It wasn’t confrontational at all. If anything, when I looked at her, it felt like the love between us was clearer and stronger than it had been previously, which was unexpectedly comforting.
We talked much more about her life today, which felt really good. She was gentler in how she shared her thoughts, though still very firm in her belief that I should not move to Michigan. That part hadn’t changed. After finishing my grande peppermint hot chocolate, I left and drove straight to meet my sister for the AA meeting near where she lives. Everyone had a chance to share, and the topic was rigorous honesty. I talked about how I needed living examples of that kind of honesty. Reading about it in books wasn’t enough for me. I had to see people actually do it—hear them say things out loud that, to me, felt shocking just to even admit, let alone share in a room full of people. Watching that gave me permission to be honest myself.
After the meeting, my sister told me something that completely shifted things. She said she had talked with her daughter the night before. Her daughter is fourteen, and in a fairly short conversation, she told my sister that she thought I should stay closer to the kids. She said it was important for them to have me around more consistently as their father, and that seeing me mostly during the summers wouldn’t really work—they needed me more often. Hearing that changed my sister’s perspective entirely. After a full week of her being excited about the idea of me moving up here, she listened to her daughter and adjusted her view without hesitation. As much as it derailed what I thought was my plan, I couldn’t help but respect that. I was grateful for the clarity, even as part of me thought, well, there goes the whole Michigan idea.
I drove back to my sister’s house turning it over in my head. What did this week actually teach me? The answer came into focus pretty quickly. I need space. I need newness. I don’t need to abandon my kids or disappear, but I do need to burn down the rest of my life as it currently exists. I need to stop going to the same AA meetings, stop going to the same yoga studio, and stop living in the same familiar patterns. I need a new neighborhood, a new environment. Thinking about Michigan made one thing very clear: I need to restart my life. I need a new life.
When I first moved to Florida, I moved to Tampa. With that in mind, I started talking with ChatGPT again, laying out my updated thinking and asking for suggestions. Based on what I described, it suggested that South Tampa might actually be the best option for me. I spent hours on Zillow throughout the day, looking at different possibilities and imagining how each one might feel. I considered Gulfport, Clearwater, North Tampa around Wesley Chapel, and farther south toward Bradenton or Sarasota. I kept going back and forth, trying to balance distance, affordability, and how close I could reasonably stay to the kids—ideally within an hour.
By the end of the day, I found myself circling the same few options. South Tampa felt promising. Downtown St. Petersburg did too—there would be a lot of newness there, but I’d still be close to the kids’ school. Gulfport offered a similar balance. I didn’t land on a decision, but I could feel the direction shifting. Michigan may not be the move, but the message of this week is undeniable: something has to change, and whatever comes next needs to feel genuinely new.
Later that evening, I had dinner with my sister’s ex-husband. We went to a nice restaurant in downtown Plymouth. I forgot my wallet, which was a little embarrassing, but he waved it off immediately and said he was planning to pay anyway. I felt genuinely grateful. I also felt good knowing I’d bought groceries for my sister and lunch for my nephew earlier. It felt balanced. I’d given where I could, and I could receive this without guilt. I ordered a portobello mushroom dish with a Caesar side salad, and it was excellent. We ended up talking for nearly two hours.
The conversation felt unusually meaningful. It’s one we couldn’t have had before. When I was married and riding the high of what I thought was success, I had a hard time seeing divorced men as anything other than failures in most cases. Now I can relate in a way I never could before. We talked openly about our experiences as divorced dads, the compromises, the grief, and the quiet responsibilities that don’t get much recognition. At one point, I told him I was proud of him. Most of the work he does is to pay for the house where his kids live with my sister—a house he doesn’t even get to spend much time in anymore. I told him that’s honorable, that dedicating so much of his life to supporting his children, even without personal access to the home or daily presence, matters.
We also talked about dating. He’s hesitant to bring anyone new into his life because he doesn’t want to destabilize my sister. I encouraged him, honestly. I told him that if he wants to date, it might actually have a positive effect. It could normalize things, maybe even help my sister feel more open to moving forward herself. Yes, it could cause some disruption, but it could also be motivating. If it’s something he wants, I think he should allow himself that. He mentioned that he’d still be open to dating a woman who wants kids, even though he’s ten years older than me. That landed in a surprisingly comforting way. It helped me relax about my own timeline.
I started thinking about family history. My uncle is eighty-three now, and his youngest child was born in 1999. That makes my cousin about twenty-six, which means my uncle fathered his sixth child around age fifty-seven. As a man, you really do have more time than you’re often led to believe. That realization gave me space. I don’t need to rush or force anything. I can let a future family come into my life naturally.
After dinner, I went back to my sister’s house and spent a couple of hours hanging out with my nephew before bed. We talked, laughed, and just existed together in that easy, unforced way that feels increasingly rare. Before going to sleep, he opened up to me about his faith and his relationship with his girlfriend. We played Uno No Mercy and laughed a lot. I put on some Deadmau5 and told him about a couple of tracks—“FN Pig” and “Aural Synapse”—and mentioned that they have hidden subliminal lyrics. He was skeptical at first and said he couldn’t hear anything. I told him that once you catch the hidden phrase in “Aural Synapse,” it’s one of those things you can’t unhear. I’m convinced both tracks have explicit subliminal phrases buried in the sound design, and that “FN Pig” even carries a whole breakup-to-anger storyline underneath the music. He wasn’t fully convinced, but we had fun with it.
By the time I went to bed, I felt quietly content. Not wired. Not euphoric. Just grounded. The kind of fullness that comes from conversation, laughter, honesty, and being exactly where you are for the night.
I told him that I’ve made hundreds of songs, and in my experience, one of the ways to take dance music to another level is by embedding subliminal lyrics. You have to think about where this music is actually played—on dance floors, in clubs, in spaces where people are moving their bodies, feeling charged, hoping to connect or hook up. If there are explicit hidden phrases buried in the sound design, that energy is present whether people consciously notice it or not. The subconscious can pick up on things the conscious mind misses. I’ve always felt a little gifted—or cursed—in that my conscious mind can sometimes hear it too.
I told him that “FN Pig” is even more extreme. To me, it starts like a sad breakup song, and then when the beat drops, the energy flips into something much angrier, with even a reversed expletive buried in there. Not everyone hears these things, and I get that. But I didn’t hear them because someone suggested it to me or planted the idea. I heard them on my own, listening closely, watching Deadmau5 streams, replaying tracks over and over. One day it just snapped into focus—holy shit, that synth literally sounds like it’s saying an explicit phrase. And once you hear it, it explains why the track feels so euphoric.
I started explaining how words and thoughts carry vibrational patterns, and speech itself follows musical notes. Someone who really understands sound design and vibration could hit those same emotional and psychological notes without using literal words. Even if the lyrics aren’t clean or precise, matching the vibration of a specific thought pattern can still trigger the same response in someone’s body or mind. If I ever had time with Deadmau5, that’s exactly what I’d want to ask him about. I’ve even experimented with this myself in some of my own music. When I was going through synth presets, I’d listen closely to see if anything jumped out. There were moments where I’d play a synth and swear it sounded like it was saying something obscene—one preset literally sounded like an explicit phrase to me. That’s why I used it. I wasn’t just hearing noise. I was hearing something layered underneath it.
Then I had him listen to “Fack” by Eminem. The ridiculous, over-the-top hook came on, and he laughed and asked if that was really my favorite Eminem song. I told him yes, absolutely. It’s brilliant. I joked that it’s completely ruined pet stores for me—if I see gerbils now, I’m like, nope, I know exactly what’s going on here. We both cracked up. It was one of those conversations where you’re half joking, half dead serious, and fully enjoying how weird and specific your shared moment is.
If you connect with how I live and think, you can follow the rest of my days on YouTube in my Life playlist.