Falling down

This post is a long time coming. I've written it in my head, phrase by phrase, for months, trying to anticipate what this week would feel like when it finally arrived. But now that the day is here, I'm as confounded as ever. So let's start at the beginning.

As you may have noticed, there's a big, beige book prowling around the left-hand margin. It's an anthology of essays about fatherhood edited by Heather, who graciously asked me to contribute to it. Heather found me a few years back, and when she links to me my SiteMeter shoots out of my laptop and punctures a hole in my plaster ceiling. So when she contacted me I figured it was the least she could do, as the money might help offset the security deposit I won't get back.

When I chose the subject matter, I struggled for a long time over whether to maintain my anonymity. But after I read it a few times, and I realized how deeply personal it is and how proud I am of it, I took the plunge and asked the publisher to attach my full name. So for the first time in its almost-five years, this blog is a lot less anonymous. And my name is a lot more Googlable.

Naturally, I didn't want my employer to find out about the book secondhand, so I met with the big boss yesterday, book in wavering hand, and explained that oh-by-the-way I'm a blogger who values his day job more than any other he's had. World A and World B slammed into each other, and my knees are still feeling the ripple.

The book is being released today, and with it is the sad revelation that my wife and I are divorcing. We've been mediating for months, and we finished our negotiations last week (on what was, strangely enough, our 9th wedding anniversary). We're at the drafting stage, and if all goes to plan we'll be living apart by the end of the summer.

I've managed to keep a rather even keel over the past few months, but now that the end is so tangibly close, all the desperate sadness from before has bubbled back up into my chest cavity. It's that same sadness that plagued me when it all hit the fan two Thanksgivings ago, and that led me to write my essay, which tries to tell my boys how much they mean to me, and that even though I'm moving out, I'm not going anywhere.

So in the past week I've seen my writing in print, taken a huge leap of faith at my job, and announced to the world that my marriage is over. The walls I've tended for so many years are crumbling inward, and I'm filled with joydread over what will rise from the rubble.

Comments

[Rachel E.]

I'm so sorry. You're brave to share your life with all of us. I hope this doesn't sound vacant and meaningless, but when things suck royally in my life, I always try to remember that just like your life can change on a dime for the worse it can also change on a dime for the better. And it can happen in ways that you could never have imagined for yourself and your boys. I hope that the coming months bring you peace in spite of the pain.

[marian]

I've been reading you for years with great admiration and enjoyment and don't think I've ever commented. Just want to say that your love for your sons, and their understanding of that love will survive the divorce. The hardest day of my life was when I told my son (then age four) that I was moving out. I still cring and can tear up remembering it, even though he's home from college right now, living with me and his stepfather, and is happy, open, and FINE. So this is just to tell you that it will all work out. Keep on being as open and loving as you are, and all will be well for all of you. Wishing you the very best...

[Ani]

I am so so sorry to hear of your troubles. I am looking forward to the book, in part because your musings on fatherhood resonate with me (even though I'm female! go figure!).

Be assured the Internets are sending you their comforting thoughts through your family's difficult time.

[Katie]

Keeping you in my thoughts and prayers.

[Blythe]

The bitter and the sweet. Congratulations on the book, on writing an essay (and a blog) that makes you proud, and on being such a tuned-in dad. I'm so sorry to learn about your divorce. Take care and know that the new life ahead will have its thrills and delights as well.

[typingelbow]

LOD, I'm sorry to hear about your troubles at home. The boys are lucky to have a dad who loves them as much as you do. Congrats on the book. I can't wait to read it.

[Angela]

Wow. I have no words. I'm so sorry that your family is going through rough times right now. Here's hoping that the end of the summer finds each of you in a better place.

[Rachel]

When I read about your divorce, a wave of shock hit me like an invisible punch from God.

My thoughts are with you and your family.

(I'll be buying the book today)

[lumpyheadsmom]

Wow. How do you say "congratulations" and "I'm so sorry" at the same time?

[Heather B.]

I am so very sorry, Doug.

[Bob]

I'm so sorry.

[SciFi Dad]

Ho-lee-crap. I sat here in stunned silence for a good few minutes, thinking about what you just wrote.

I've been a reader since the summer of 2006, when I first started blogging myself. (What got me started was reading your blog after a reference to it in a parenting magazine... I forget which one.) And after two years of reading it's easy to think you know someone, their situation. But today's post is a sobering confirmation that we share what we choose to share, and we paint the image we want to paint; that blogs are not photos, but rather impressions.

I am truly sorry for what you have been going through, and what you will go through in the coming months. I really don't know what else to say, except a hollow-sounding (albeit sincere) offer of "if you ever need to talk, you have my email" (Because really, why would you email a stranger in another country when you need to talk? But it felt like the right thing to do, and I actually meant it: I'd email/chat/whatever if you wanted.)

[Sherry]

I also have been reading your blog for a long time and I don't think I've ever commented.

What always comes through in your writing is the joy you have in fatherhood and the love you have for your sons. You'll find a way to be always present and active in their lives.

I'm sure it's strange to share such great news and such sad news with virtual strangers. But that means there are so many well-wishers for you.

[Kizz]

Oh. Oh. Oh.

What is that line from say anything where Diane Court talks about how much she hates the way good things and bad things happen all jumbled up together and she just wishes they could make some sort of schedule? I feel the same way.

On the other hand I'm glad you have something really good to offset your really bad something.

I'll echo SciFi Dad, there's no reason you'd ever need to just chat with a stranger, I suppose, but if you do you have my e-mail and I'm close enough to buy you a beer.

[Papa Bradstein]

My heart goes out to you. Your boys will know that you are still with them. They will know it from your actions, from your expressions of your love for them, and they will know it in their hearts as an undeniable truth.

[Tina]

Wow. I'm deeply sorry and elated for you at the same time. Warm and fuzzy thoughts headed your way...

[jaime]

Oh god. I'm so sorry. I'm sitting here at my desk crying, which is mostly a reminder of how powerful and beautiful and hopeful the way you share your life has been, and continues to be. As a daughter whose parents divorced when she was six, I feel for you and your boys, but I don't doubt for a second that it's going to be okay. I don't know that anything (aside from my own mother) makes me look forward to parenthood as much as what you write.

Okay, I need to stop writing this now, because I keep crying, thinking about this weird, intense internet affection I have for you and your family. Also, crying at work. Just know that there's a girl sitting across the city who's sending you and your family a lot of love and hope, and is always grateful for your generosity, honesty, and that there are boys being parented so damn well.

[cullentine]

I'm so, so sorry. I found out about your news, oddly, by a search someone did to find my site, from which I'd linked to yours at some point. Terms were: "laid off dad" + divorce. I thought, "That's weird; he's not divorced" and high-tailed it over here.

Your posts are so humorously and lovingly focused on your boys that it's clear you'll be with them every step of the way to adulthood and beyond, that you care deeply, and that your boys will have every success in life. Good luck.

[Holly]

Yeah, stunned silence. I've been reading your funny tales for several years (going on 4?)....

Wow. Congrats on the book and I'm so sorry to hear about the breakup of your family.

I know it may mean little to you, but I'll pray for you, your boys and for your soon-to-be-ex-wife.

[Isabel Kallman]

I'm so sorry.

Yet, I am compelled to congratulate you for being so brave on so many levels. It's not easy to take leaps of faith as you have. Your friends and loved ones will be there along the way, I am sure.

[kelli]

Crap.

[Memphislis]

I am delurking to say how sorry I am to hear about the split. You and your boys are in my thoughts and prayers.

[Bobbi]

I found you via your wife a long time ago, but I'm not sure I ever commented. My heart goes out to you and your family...

[kellly]

nothing new to add that hasn't been said by 15 others. but though i've only been reading your blog for a few weeks (got here through dooce), i already like ya. i can say this: nothin like a whole bunch of everything at once to make you feel alive. so relish that?

[Chookooloonks]

And with this post, you just officially became one of the bravest men I know.

Hang in there, li'l buckaroo. And congratulations on the book, dammit! All the accolades that are sure to come are well-deserved.

K.

[Lora]

Wow. I am so, so sorry. I never saw this coming and can only imagine the grief you must be feeling. Your writing has always conveyed joy to me and I feel like there has been a death in "my" family now. Keeping you in my thoughts...

[Sheryl]

Oh my God, I'm so so sorry. I know this will be hard on all of you, but your boys have such wonderful parents, and nothing will change that.

[RubiaLala]

I am so sorry to hear about your divorce. I can feel your pain in the words you write.

[21stCenturyMom]

Oh how I wish I could just be saying Congratulations on the book! I'm so sorry about your marriage. I know that ultimately you will work it all out but that doesn't mean it doesn't, in the parlance of the 21st Century, totally suck.

[alice]

You're the best, LOD. Much love.

[Megan]

Dorothy Sayers phrase - 'like being slightly drunk and tossed in a blanket' - sounds appropriate for your life at the moment. Congratulations on the book, and on your courage. And... with the others... so sorry as well.

[Cori]

Crap! The second time today I'm delurking to say how sorry I am. Congratulations on the book and brave decision to share your story with us.

[Mom101]

I can only imagine the inner turmoil (for someone with the self-awareness and sensitivity that you possess) of living two different lives - the one on your blog and the one off the blog. Whatever comes of the scarier stuff, I imagine you'll feel a burden lifted.

Continuing the optimism: Tremendous congrats on the book. No small feat. May hoards of success and legions of happiness be headed your way.

[mama without instructions]

wow. that is so intense it brought tears to my eyes. i have been reading for a year or so but am not much for commenting in general. i am so sorry to hear about the end of your marriage. an even keel, indeed. really, as a mother of two small children of similar ages to yours, i am just so very sorry to hear it. now the tears are rolling... strength and peace to you.

[Jessica]

I've been reading your blog for a few years now, but have never commented before. It took this post to pull me out of the woodwork. My divorce was final in December 2007, the culmination of 6 months of marital counseling, 6 months of living together knowing that we were over, and a year of living apart. There was no step along the way that didn't hurt, and I was surprised by each new wave of pain. The thing is, even though I have regrets,even though I have felt shame and rage and bone-aching sadness, I have learned so much about myself and the world that I don't have the heart to wish that it had never happened.
***psychic-socially-appropriate-patting***
Hang in there.

[S]

Best to all of you.

[Suburban Turmoil]

These are the times when you learn what you're made of. You're in my thoughts.

[Lunasea]

Aw, I'm so sorry to hear that. Divorce is always painful. We're all pulling with you to see what arises out of the rubble.

[littleindiana]

My heart broke when I found out you were getting a divorce. I've been reading your blog for several years now. You are a great Dad & your boys are awesom.

[Anne Glamore]

Hey-- I'm joining everyone in hoping the best for you but I'm also feeling a SHOCK of recognition from UVa.

If I'm not mistaken, you did a cartoon there and designed my favorite UGuides shirt which I left in the apartment of the last boyfriend I had before my husband. I miss it (but not him) all the time.

Now our boys are on the same 6th grade baseball team and I have to resist the temptation to ask for it back, assuming it's not a pile of ashes.

But seriously, you and Moxie and the guys are in my thoughts.

[pnuts mama]

sending love and hope for peace-filled days to you all.

[Her Bad Mother]

Oh, my friend. Oh, oh. I am SO SO sorry.

All sorts of love and best wishes and hugs and hope for all of you.

[schmutzie]

That's a lot of public leaps in a short span of time. All I can think to tell you is to remember to breathe.

[that girl]

I am so very sorry. Really. I know your future will be bright. Has to be.

[Melissa]

l

[cheri]

I echo all the previous sentiments. I have loved reading about your adventures in fatherhood with the Berts, your love and committment to them is awe-inspiring. It's that love that will get you through.
We are here for you LOD.

[Robin in San Jose]

What a strange inside out day it has been in the Blogosphere. Alice Bradley rocked my soul by telling the world she had a miscarriage, Laid-Off-Dad flushed his anonymity and announced he and his wife are divorcing, and my three favorite bloggers have gotten married between book bindings and given birth to What I Learned From My Dad (In Therapy). I love you guys, and now I need to sit down and eat some candy to bring my blood sugar back to normal.

[Eliza]

OH NO! I'm so sorry you're having to adjust to so much right now, and I'm so SAD about you and your wife, and...wow. Dunno what to say really, except that I'll still be lurking :)

[mothergoosemouse]

I'm so sorry. So, so sorry.

[M&Co.]

How bitter-sweet. Congratulations on the book. I'm sorry about the divorce. Peace.