Who Am I When My Kids Aren't Here?

I sat in family court listening to my ex say things about me that I didn’t recognize.

That was the day I realized something that hit me harder than I expected.

Understanding someone doesn’t mean you can solve the problem.

For most of my life, I’ve been able to understand people.

As a founder, salesperson, entrepreneur, and dad, understanding people has been one of my greatest strengths. If I can understand what someone wants, what they’re afraid of, and what problem they’re trying to solve, I can usually find a path forward.

Then I found myself sitting in court.

I could see my ex’s perspective.

I understood where some of the resentment came from.

I understood how she was interpreting events.

The problem was that none of that changed anything.

For someone who has spent his life solving problems, that was a hard lesson.

Understanding Isn’t Enough

For a long time, I believed that if I could just understand someone deeply enough, I could help fix the situation.

That belief served me well in business.

It helped me raise capital.

It helped me close deals.

It helped me build relationships.

It helped me lead teams.

What I learned during my divorce is that understanding creates clarity, but it doesn’t always create resolution.

You can understand someone perfectly and still have no ability to change their perspective.

That realization frustrated me more than I wanted to admit.

I don’t like fighting.

I don’t enjoy conflict.

I want people to get along.

I want problems solved.

I want peace.

The harder I pushed toward that outcome, the more I realized that some outcomes aren’t entirely mine to control.

Where I Actually Find Peace

For a while, I thought peace would come after the divorce.

After the court dates.

After the parenting schedule.

After everyone finally understood each other.

What I’ve discovered is something completely different.

The moments when I feel most peaceful have nothing to do with the divorce.

I feel peaceful when I’m with Stella.

I feel peaceful after ten minutes of meditation.

I feel peaceful when I read pages 86 and 87 from the Big Book.

I feel peaceful when I write in a notebook and clear my head.

I feel peaceful when I stop focusing on myself and start thinking about how I can help other people.

The strange thing is that none of those things solve the divorce.

They just make me a better version of myself while I’m going through it.

That’s been one of the biggest lessons of this entire experience.

Peace isn’t waiting on the other side of the problem.

Sometimes it’s available right in the middle of it.

The Kid Inside the Founder

During a conversation recently, I was asked when I feel most like myself.

The answer came quickly.

Jumping on a trampoline with Stella.

Shooting Nerf guns.

Going to arcades.

Winning tickets.

Playing sports.

Laughing with my kids.

Having fun.

I’m 46 years old and, if I’m being honest, I still love being a kid.

I love toys.

I love building things.

I love experimenting.

I love getting excited about new ideas.

I love creating things simply because they seem interesting.

For years, my kids gave me a place where that part of me could exist naturally.

When they’re around, nobody questions why we’re running around with Nerf guns.

When they’re around, it’s perfectly normal to act like a kid.

When they’re gone, what’s left are adult problems.

Court.

Money.

Stress.

Lawyers.

Conflict.

Work becomes the distraction.

And that’s when I realized something important.

I wasn’t just missing my daughter.

I was missing one of the environments where I felt most like myself.

The New Blake

For almost fifteen years, my identity was connected to being a husband and father inside a family unit.

Now one of those roles is gone, and the other only exists part of the time.

For a while, I thought the goal was to get my old life back.

Now I think the goal is something else.

I’m trying to figure out how to remain Blake, the playful builder, even on the days when Stella isn’t here.

I’ve spent a lot of time in counselling.

I’ve been working on attachment issues.

I’ve been doing EMDR.

I’ve been trying to understand old patterns, old triggers, and old wounds.

But increasingly, I think the bigger question isn’t about the past.

It’s about the future.

Who am I becoming?

The version of myself I want to become isn’t tougher.

It isn’t harder.

It isn’t more serious.

It’s calmer.

More present.

More grateful.

More connected.

More playful.

More willing to enjoy the people and moments right in front of me.

The divorce will eventually end.

The court dates will pass.

The paperwork will get filed.

The schedules will get sorted out.

What matters more is who I become while all of that is happening.

Maybe that’s the real project.

Not winning the court battle.

Not fixing the past.

Not getting my old life back.

Learning how to remain Blake, the playful builder, even on the days when Stella isn’t here.

That’s the thing I’m building now.

Builder’s Note

If you’re going through a divorce, career change, breakup, empty nest, or any major life transition, I’d love to hear from you.

What’s something you thought was part of your identity that you’re now realizing was only part of the story?

Send me a message. I’m still figuring this out too.