I was convinced. No one could tell me otherwise. No friend, no preacher no sermon, no song. Nothing. I knew deep down that I deserved this. All of the pain, the lack of purpose and ultimately, the failed marriage. All of my insecurities as a man, my worries as a father. I deserved it and should “count it all joy” that it wasn’t worst. It was my cross to bear and there was nothing I could do about it.
You read that right. My marriage failed.
That’s really hard to admit. Especially when you know how much of the failure was your fault. I won’t dive into the whys and how’s or give you all the gory details of what happened. That’s between her and I. My ex-wife is an amazing woman. She has a story to tell and I hope she does tell it one day. However, this is MY journey and the story I need and want to tell. I know there are thousands of men who have experienced loss and aren’t quiet sure how to handle it. Maybe my experience can help.
Over the next few days and weeks, let’s spend some time together. Free of judgment, condemnation and ridicule. Just me and you, a cup of coffee in hand, having a discussion around a fire pit on the set of Yellowstone. And yes, We’re dressed like cowboys ‘cause this is my story and how I think it should go. If we’re going to chat it up and talk about feelings and invoke emotions, we need to have the manliest environment possible. And if you want to imagine John Dutton and Rip are there, fine. I won’t argue. But no matter what, we have places to go and things to discuss. Leave your bull crap in in the saddle bags, sit down and let’s freakin’ be real. Sound good?
I’ll go first.