Everything Is Falling Apart at Once: Divorce, Depression, and Trying Not to Break
When everything speeds up and falls apart at the same time, you find out what you're really made of.
The last few months have been a real struggle for me.
A lot has changed all at once. Some of it I’ve handled well. Some of it… not so much.
I started school for HVAC on March 9. That means I’m up at 5:30 every morning unless I’m in co-op. For someone who is not a morning person at all, that’s been an adjustment.
But that’s just the surface.
March has always been what I used to call “birthday season” in my family. All of my kids’ birthdays fall between March and May. My wedding anniversary is in March too.
March 4th was my #3 daughter’s birthday. She turned 8.
Her gift is still sitting in my room.
I was supposed to see her around her birthday, but that got cancelled. No explanation. Just… cancelled.
Then March 20 came. What would have been our 17th wedding anniversary.
There’s a lot I did wrong in that marriage. I used to justify things I had no business justifying. I own that now.
What I also see now is that the relationship itself was toxic.
For a long time, I thought maybe we’d reconcile. I held onto that longer than I should have.
Last summer, something shifted.
I realized this wasn’t going to be fixed. Not because I didn’t want to change—but because you can’t fix a marriage if only one person is willing to do the work.
Trying to force it would have caused more damage than letting it go.
That doesn’t make it easy. It just makes it real.
This past week, I had to meet with my ex to deal with something practical—our phones were all still on my account.
I can’t afford to carry three lines. It’s not realistic.
We set a time. I made it clear I had to work later that day.
She showed up 90 minutes late.
That kind of thing used to set me off immediately.
If I’m honest, it still does.
We handled what needed to be handled, but when I tried to talk about things that actually matter—like seeing my kids—it went nowhere.
Then she told me she wants to move forward with the divorce.
As soon as possible.
I’ve been dragging my feet.
Not because I thought we’d get back together, but because I wanted to get my life into a place where I could actually be a present father again.
I’m not there yet.
And that scares me.
I don’t have the income. I don’t have the space. I don’t have the stability.
What I do have is the reality that this is moving forward whether I feel ready or not.
This morning, I was sitting in church.
Trying to focus. Trying to get even a little bit of peace.
And my phone starts going off.
It’s her.
Message after message—pushing to move forward with the divorce. Wanting to take the next steps.
Now.
Right now.
Sitting there reading those messages… it felt like the pressure just doubled.
Like everything is speeding up, and I’m still trying to catch my footing.
I didn’t engage much. Just told her I’m meeting with Whitestone again.
But now it’s not optional.
Now it’s urgent.
I don’t have all the answers. Not even close.
What I have been doing is reaching out to people who know more than I do.
Pastors. Mentors. My therapist.
I met with Whitestone this past week because I could feel myself starting to spiral.
One of the directors told me something I didn’t want to hear—but needed to.
If the divorce is inevitable, dragging it out will only cause more damage.
He’s right.
I just wasn’t ready to see it.
There’s so much emotion wrapped up in this that sometimes I can’t see straight.
I’m worried about my kids.
I’m worried about finances.
And somewhere in all of this, I’m being told to trust God with it.
That sounds simple.
It’s not.
At the same time, I can’t ignore the fact that I’ve grown.
A few years ago, I wouldn’t have been open to any of this. Even a year ago, I would have fought it harder.
Now I can admit I don’t know everything. I can ask for help.
That’s not who I used to be.
But even with that growth, I’ve been struggling.
I’ve been battling depression for a while now.
And everything is bleeding into everything else.
Small problems don’t feel small right now.
They feel like one more thing piled onto a stack that’s already too heavy.
I had an issue recently with my insurance—something minor, something that will get fixed.
But I snapped.
Not because of that one issue, but because it felt like problem number 501.
And I’ve seen this pattern before.
When I was driving truck, if I was polite, nothing got done.
If I was a jerk, things moved.
So I became a jerk.
Not because I wanted to be—but because it worked.
And now, under pressure, I feel that instinct coming back.
I hate it.
It’s not who I want to be.
But when everything feels like a fight, it’s hard not to go back to what used to work.
I haven’t seen my kids since Christmas.
There’s constant tension with my ex.
There’s financial pressure.
There’s uncertainty everywhere I look.
And it’s wearing me down.
My fight-or-flight response feels like it’s always on.
I don’t know how to turn it off.
At church today, the message hit hard.
Romans 5:3–5:
“We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.”
I hear that.
I believe that.
But I’m tired.
I’m exhausted from feeling like every part of my life is a fight.
I know this is shaping me.
But right now, it just feels heavy.
I’m still praying.
For wisdom. For direction. For clarity.
Because at the end of the day, I can get all the advice in the world—but I still have to make the decisions.
No one can do that for me.
I don’t feel strong right now.
I feel worn down. Pressured. Uncertain.
But I’m still here.
Still trying.
Still reaching out instead of shutting down.
Still asking God for help—even when I don’t fully understand what that’s supposed to look like.
And for now…
that’s going to have to be enough.
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