Antediluvian Man

There’s a part of the journey that no one talks about.
It’s not the bottom — not the moment everything falls apart. It’s the part after that, when the dust has settled and the rage has gone quiet, but nothing has grown back yet.
Just silence. Emptiness. Sadness. Isolation. Seclusion.

That’s where I am now.

I’ve really screwed up my relationship with my wife… and I am a lie to my boys and they don’t even know it. She’s protected them from me all along.
She’s scared of me. I’m scared of her. She gets under my skin in ways that make me ashamed of myself, and I’ve hurt her more than anyone should ever have to endure.

But I can’t focus on fixing the relationship right now. As much as I want to show her I’ve changed, chasing that proof has become a distraction. I’ve spent years trying to earn her trust back — and yes, that matters. But if I don’t do this for myself, it’s not real. It’s not lasting. And it’s not honest.

So I’m turning inward. I’m beginning a new chapter that includes psychiatry. I’m considering ketamine therapy. I’m finally trying to face something deeper in me — something that’s been twisted or missing for a long time.
For the first time, I’m not looking for a quick fix or a way out. I’m looking for understanding.
I want to know who I am, underneath the anger, the fear, and the guilt.
Without the anger, the fear, and the guilt.

I raged for over 15 years. I was full of fire, full of control, full of pride. It wasn’t until five years ago that I started getting real help — that I began to let go of the explosions and take responsibility for the damage I caused. I stopped raging. I started apologizing. I started owning my emotional chaos.

But when the rage finally left, it left behind a hole I wasn’t ready for.

What I’m living with now is a sadness I can’t put into words. It’s not just depression. It’s grief. Grief for the man I could have been. For the marriage I’ve likely broken beyond repair. For the years I lost in anger and fear. I’m not sure who I’ll be tomorrow, and I’m not sure who will still be standing next to me when I arrive there.

But I know I have to press on.

This is the part where there’s no hero story, no clean ending, no big revelation. Just a man, scared and sad, trying to put one foot in front of the other. Trying to change. Trying to find peace — not in what anyone thinks of him, not in whether he’s forgiven, but in being able to live with himself.

That’s the only real reward I’m after now. Not a perfect life. Not a perfect relationship. Just a clean conscience. A heart that doesn’t hide from the mirror. A mind that feels like home.

I don’t know how this ends. It may mean divorce. It may mean building something new. Or it may mean learning how to let go of what I wanted in order to build what I need.

So I’ll walk this road scared.
I’ll walk it sad.
And I’ll walk it alone if I have to.
But I will walk it — because the man I want to be is out there, waiting.
And for once in my life, I’m going to show up for him.