Category: Uncategorized Page 13 of 14

After a long marriage, a recently divorced man has to build his new life while maintaining key elements of the life that was. For some men, this can take years, but we don’t have the luxury of time.

I find restructuring the administrative and financial aspects of my life to be the most foreboding. When I think of what it took to set up at least some security for my family, how quickly it was dismantled and what I have to do to restore it, I want to auction off my organs on DealDash and put the proceeds into a trust for the kids. While I am taking baby steps to shore up the damage, the thought of poring over all the mail, making the calls and reviewing the documents fills me with such dread, I’m tempted to grab a parka and sneak across the border to Canada never to return.

I know it’s childish to dwell on how good things could have been — had they not totally imploded. I know the longer I procrastinate the longer I will wrestle with crippling anxiety. I even know I’ve dealt with worse and still managed to thrive. But now, I also know the higher up the ladder I get, the longer the fall — and likewise the climb back up.

Then again, I consider the odds of this blog actually changing my life or that of others, the effort required to build it out, whether I can make money doing it and the long range plans I have beyond it. Strangely, this set of equally intimidating notions brings me a curious peace, a sense that it’s all gonna be OK.

I guess this good feeling is a result of thinking so differently than how I programmed myself to think while married; I’m stepping out of the box I built. Now, I have to seal up that box — along with all the angst it holds — and put it out with the trash.

Nobody ever said blogging would be easy.

It’s a snap to post about one’s personal experiences or opinions, but when a blog’s purported primary focus is family law reform on a national scale, eventually, a blogger must do a little investigative journalism and post things of substance. Looks like I am fast approaching that point.

Look: I just got the kids off to school and after this post, I gotta run 3 miles, pump a little iron and do 76 errands. The only thing I’m researching today is how to recover from exhaustion.

I figure if I at least acknowledge the monumental challenge I’ve taken on, I’m on the right path, but I do question my own sanity. It’s not like I haven’t been warned by professionals that I’ll be trying to split an atom with a nut cracker. But what do I have to lose? There are plenty of classic tales about guys on impossible quests. Don Quixote, Jason and the Argonauts and Odysseus ain’t bad company. Tally-Ho!

I’ve referenced a dad’s ubiquitous To-Do List in a previous post. There is a sequence in the film Goodfellas that so captures the dilemma of the American father that it cements Martin Scorsese’s place in the Pantheon of elite directors (see the uncensored clip here).

The scene features the protagonist, Henry Hill, preparing Sunday dinner for his family, dropping off a parcel of guns to his dissatisfied capo, preparing a shipment of cocaine for interstate transport and picking up his disabled brother from a medical facility — all while high on cocaine and paranoid as a result. It’s dizzying to listen to Henry’s narration as we watch him make stop after stop, encountering yet more complications along the way, which only ratchet up the pressure he feels to get it all done.

Though the great majority of responsible dads are not committing multiple felonies while under police surveillance, I think we all know Henry’s pain. Life can very quickly spiral out of control. This is why we must do what we can to keep things simple, which may be the most difficult task of all!

No matter what you do, you’re going to encounter a person who will take some issue with it. Depending on how dissatisfied your nemesis might be with their life, you are going to have a problem.

I think the best way to handle a person’s attempt to goad you into acting irresponsibly is to not react at all. Simply identify and accept the person’s irrational behavior for what it is and move on.

In my case, I transplanted from a harsh, urban environment to a suburban utopia. I spent the first 30 years of my life ducking punches, bullets, cops and prison. Now, I live in a neighborhood where the biggest concern is a disabled car left too long in a visitor’s parking lot. Could I possibly care about such a thing? Not really, but like Dorothy, I’m not in Kansas anymore. Instead, I find myself in Rome, and when in Rome…

Neighbors giving me a pain in the…neck about inconsequential stuff need to be addressed, but I know I have to keep it civil. My concern is raising two children with great promise in an environment where they can thrive. If I need to grin in the faces of a few would-be land barons to accomplish the greater goal, so be it.

Time was that nosy, mouthy, shifty neighbors suffered terrible fates in the South Bronx. My current world might be alien to me, but by the grace of God, so is my past.

Consider the myriad roles of the single father:

• Cook
• Maid
• Handyman
• Banker
• Auto mechanic
• Financial planner
• Tutor
• Internet safety monitor
• Judge
• Jury
• Referee
• Coach
• Nurse
• Psychologist
• Playmate
• Business manager
• Baby sitter
• Nutritionist
• Interior decorator
• Role model

The list for single mothers is identical. These responsibilities can be overwhelming, particularly in the midst of the emotional upheaval of divorce.

There is no “Easy” button, only the consequences of being slow to act, or worse, not acting at all. How sweet life would be if we could get by with focusing only on tasks that bring us immediate gratification!

We all have our coping mechanisms, some healthier than others. I am negotiating an extremely difficult transition from aspiring writer to published and earning author. This is not only about coping, but catharsis.

I have rekindled within myself a burning desire to create that was nearly snuffed out by pragmatism; while married, I was singularly dedicated to providing for my family. Divorce has forced me to rethink how I want to live my life. Such drastic changes as I am making require uncommon discipline. Such discipline is only established incrementally and over time. Of greater importance, once firmly entrenched, that discipline must be applied to the items listed above.

This blog is as much about my belief in its stated purpose as it is my path to a life that makes sense. Each post affirms that I can start my day making a difference and applying some elbow grease to building a better life…which brings me right back to the kids — setting an example and all. If I can spare them even a week of the uncertainty of how to live which characterized my own youth, bully for the three of us; parents who raise self-sufficient kids have a far better shot at living truly golden years.

The day when a group of kids could play together a block or two from their homes with minimal adult supervision is long over. Now, kids need to gather at places where they can be monitored by at least one adult for the duration of play time. Thus, the introduction of the “play date”. I’ve already hosted a few.

In a former life, the idea of me presiding over a house full of kids made about as much sense as a cardigan on a polar bear. Now, I figure better my place than someone else’s. I know I ain’t too crazy or negligent, but I don’t know about the other parents — and I know they’re taking a leap of faith with me. Until we as parents really get to know eachother, we’re all X-factors! But we have to take some risks. Our kids need to socialize and we parents all need breaks.

Play dates with prepubescents are absolutely nerve-wracking, but the insane life I led before I daddy’d up has prepared me well. I can hang, but I’m just sayin’: Yesterday, I spent 20 minutes in a minivan with two 8-year old girls — and my beleaguered son — as the girls repeatedly belted out the word “worm!” at the top of their lungs out the windows. They drowned out the radio, for crying out loud!

I looked over at my son and it was clear he had heard enough. In an effort to teach him to speak up for himself — and admittedly a cowardly way to escape being labeled a party-pooper by my daughter — I said to him “you need to tell them respectfully, but in plain English, how you feel.” And he did just that. I was so proud of him — and so relieved that the girls piped down!

As I drove on, I came to the conclusion that the supervising adult’s role during play dates is not just to watch the children, but to teach them about effective communication and conflict resolution. Then, I thought “Who the heck do I think I am? I never took any child psychology courses in college”. But even that thought couldn’t wipe the goofy, self-satisfied grin off my face.

Of course, they can’t. They grow up…you just grow old. But the process needn’t be so cut and dried. Try to grow with your kid(s). Try to follow the guidelines you set for them. Pardon the cliché, but try to lead by example.

This is exhaustive work and Heaven knows I don’t always get it right, but what are the alternatives? We are responsible for them being here and these days, that doesn’t end once they turn 18.

In the world they will inherit, even blue collars are being bleached white. Without higher education, how will your child fare in a service driven economy?

After the financial catastrophe of divorce, the question of how to cover — or at least help the kids to cover — skyrocketing college tuition, lodging and materials costs has kept me awake many a night. Addressing this situation and sharing information gleaned during that process is definitely within the scope of this blog.

Man, if you think you’re hemorraging cash now, just you wait…but some sound advice, careful preparation and a little (or a lot of) discipline could soften the blow.