How I Stopped Self-Destructing and Rebuilt My Tribe After Divorce
Rock bottom is real—but staying there is optional.
This edition is for you if:
a) You’ve ever gone full hermit after a breakup, barricading yourself in a couch fort to hide from the big, bad world.
b) You’re tired of isolating yourself—knowing you need a team but feeling too awkward to reach out.
c) You want to rebuild from rock bottom and need a good kick up the arse.
Ready to start forging an unbreakable inner circle? If you’re not willing to get uncomfortable and ask for help, you’ll stay under siege at Fort Couch. Time to sally forth!
You already know what rock bottom looks like.
For me, it’s a warm February afternoon. I’m outside the office, chain-smoking through another break.
The stale taste of ashtray makes me gag, but I take another drag anyway. I wasn’t a smoker before divorce—I was a Muay Thai fighter, training 10 hours a week.
Now, I’m lighting up every hour. Smoko breaks are the highlight of my day—because everything else is shit. I can’t focus. Too angry. Too numb. Too close to tears.
As I lift the cigarette to my lips, a wave of self-loathing hits.
This can’t continue…
Then, like Gollum arguing with himself, another voice sneers:
"Don’t fight it. Your life is ashes now—you might as well look the part."
It was a compelling argument. Giving up would be easy. But something snapped me out of it.
"Fuck this—I need to talk to someone. But who?"
Why do men suck at this?
As a bloke, it’s so easy to isolate yourself after separation.
In contrast, women often seem better prepared for life alone—not because they thrive in isolation, but because they’ve already built strong, supportive circles around them.
Men could learn a lot from women in this department. We are typically shit at building and maintaining support networks.
It’s less noticeable when we’re in a long-term relationship. Our partners do most of the social heavy lifting.
But when a marriage ends, mutual friends take sides. It’s fucked, but true.
Men are often the loser in this scenario because women are the glue that hold these connections together.
The friendships we keep—like our college buddies—are built on sports, beers, and trash talk, not deep-and-meaningfuls. Even if the lads wanted to help, we’re too ashamed to admit we’re struggling. So, we withdraw, isolating ourselves when we need support the most.
Stupid, don’t you think?
Especially when you consider the real-world consequences of isolation. A higher risk of depression. Anxiety. Financial struggles. Toxic rebound relationships. Shorter life expectancy…
Harvard’s Study of Adult Development —one of the longest-running studies on happiness—found that the quality of your relationships is the biggest predictor of long-term well-being. But it doesn’t take a big fucking brain to figure that out.
Separation is one of the hardest challenges you’ll ever have to navigate.
Why do it alone?
Avengers Assemble
Tactically, doesn’t it make more sense to assemble a council of advisors—people who guide you, have your back, and call you on your bullshit?
Every CEO has a board. Every king, a round table. Even Tony Stark had Rhodey, Cap, and Happy Hogan keeping him in check (RIP Iron Man).
Right now, you’re a construction site that’s just been bulldozed. The raw materials are there, but it’s a mess. You need scaffolding—something sturdy to rebuild around.
These people are your scaffolding.
Fill your world with coaches, mentors, and peers who want to see you thrive. Who you trust enough to be vulnerable with. Batman wouldn’t last a week without Alfred.
Some of these relationships might cost you—hiring a coach or therapist, for instance—but that could be the best investment you ever make. Paying for professional support signals to your brain that rebuilding your life is non-negotiable.
Even Alfred is on Batman’s payroll.
Rebuilding without mentors is dumb
Like building IKEA furniture without the manual. Just plain unnecessary.
The first Avenger in my squad was a clinical psychologist.
A fucking superhero.
She saw my tendency to self-isolate and made me take social risks—joining a men’s circle, even trying bachata classes when I danced like a drunken Panda. Her advice:
You need people. You can’t do this shit alone.
She was right. Now, I have a therapist, a business coach, a fitness coach (even though I am one), a mastermind group, and my mum as my personal Yoda.
Only two cost money—because support doesn’t have to break the bank. Hell, cancel three of your 17,000 streaming subscriptions and hire a coach. You’ll get more ROI from that than you ever will from another true crime doc.
I still fall apart sometimes.
But my people help me rebuild—fast.
But who? And how…
I get it.
You’re used to bottling things up. You don’t want to be a burden.
Your biggest challenge isn’t just who to reach out to—but how to do it without feeling awkward, weak, or broken.
Oh, you don’t have time to reach out?
Between work, single parenting, and crushing Doritos in front of Amazon Prime until 11:30 PM?
Bullshit.
You don’t have time to wallow in self-pity. You don’t have time to give your kids a lesser version of you. You don’t have time to keep beating yourself up because you can’t break your weed habit.
Make time.
Here’s an easy protocol that can get you started:
Step 1: Low-Hanging Fruit (Easy Wins)
Don’t overthink it—just text a trusted friend or sibling:
"Hey man, got time for a beer or a walk this week?"
You don’t have to walk into a psychologist’s office or call a life coach right away—just a familiar face and a conversation.Step 2: Bring in the Pros (High-Value Support)
Once you’ve got momentum, level up. A divorce-savvy coach, therapist, or psychologist can help you strategize, reset, and navigate the chaos. Book a consult. No commitment—just intel.Step 3: Body & Finances
Hit the gym, join a sport—physical wins fuel mental wins. Hire a personal trainer to help you level up. If money’s stressing you out, see a financial advisor (even one session helps).Step 4: The Long Game
Expand your circle beyond “sports and beers.” Join a men’s group, a class, or volunteer.
If all this feels overwhelming, just start with two people:
A trusted friend (for emotional grounding)
A professional (for structured guidance)
Once you’ve made two solid connections, momentum will build. The hardest part is just starting.
We can get started in the Dad Dojo—if you need a nudge and accountability, check it out here.
You don’t have to fight this battle alone.
But if you don’t start recruiting allies, you will.
Separation hurts. You never thought you’d be here. But here you are.
Yes, you’ve lost a critical relationship—maybe even your rock. But you don’t have to lose yourself.
If you’ve spent your life keeping your emotions locked down, this will be one of the hardest things you ever do. But it’s also the most important.
It takes courage. You might feel like you don’t have much left, but whatever’s in the tank—go all in on this investment.
Strong men don’t go it alone.
Weak men do.
Which one are you?
Which one do you want to be?
90 days from now, you could be more confident, taking bigger risks, and fully enjoying fatherhood—with a clear head, free from constant negativity. I’ll show you how.
If you want my no-BS roadmap for rebuilding confidence after divorce, I’ve created a FREE email course to get started.
Start here →Let's F**king Go!
For more dadsplaining, check out my last edition. I shared how to build a post-divorce road-map to inject some spice back in your life:
"WTF Do I Do Now!?" The Holy Shit Moment That Rescued Me From My Post-Divorce Dumpster Fire
This edition is for you if: