Author: David B Sloan

I fought to become the husband and father I wanted to be.
I fought to put bread on the table.
I fought to keep her happy when she was depressed.
I fought my anxiety when she pulled away.

I fought to save the marriage when she said she was leaving.
I fought to get out of bed when she was gone.
To go to work,
To make dinner for the kids,
To earn enough to keep us afloat.

I fought off fears that the kids would leave me too.
I fought to find friends who could hold my pain.
I fought to be “normal” again.
I fought off depression and loneliness.

I fought to find myself—
to unlearn the self abandonment I had taught myself.
I fought to help the kids unlearn it too.
I fought the urge to lean on crutches instead of learning to stand.

After decades of fighting, something is different.

Peace.
Hope.
Strength.
Security.

I don’t need to fight anymore.

I can just be.

For twenty-six years, we had a good run;
I thought we were perfect, that she was the one.
But I brought to adulthood the traumas of youth;
I needed to heal, but hid from that truth.

So I had to hit bottom to ever be free;
Only by losing could I ever find me.
Divorce cut me deep — that much is true;
But suffering the pain, I finally grew.

When she left, I couldn’t understand why,
My pain so great, I could only cry.
I thought I found a redeeming grace,
“I’ll find someone better to take her place.”
But no substitute could satisfy,
No better love would get me by.
So now a truer way I finally see:
Redemption comes in discovering me.

While many look for lips to kiss on New Year’s Eve,
I look for something deeper.
I do not need a romance to help me escape my loneliness;
I choose, instead, to stand fully present with myself.

Many enter the New Year grasping for a moment of hope,
But my hope goes deeper.
It is not borrowed for the night
Nor found in the warmth of another’s breath.

Yes, I would love to taste lips,
To feel the quiet electricity of connection,
To discover the mystery that lives between two hearts—
But not at the cost of myself.

So I choose to cross the threshold whole—
Not chasing connection, not afraid of being alone,
But grounded in the hard-won knowledge
That I am already enough.

I don’t need fixed, for I’m not broken.
Let’s rethink the story I’ve spoken—
A tale of hurt and shattered dreams
Can become a story that teems…
With life anew, born from the grave,
With dreams I never thought to crave.

My canvas clean, paintbrush in hand,
I start again—not what was planned.
And as I paint, I find new joy:
For what I paint is that little boy—
The one I lost while trying to be
Everything else except for me.

Dear future wife,

I think of you often.
You inspire me to become the man I’m meant to be.

Sometimes I try to find you,
But maybe I wouldn’t recognize you now—
Not until I fully see myself.
I’m getting there.

I work on myself every day.
I reflect on why my first marriage ended after 22 good years.
I stopped listening. I stopped validating.
I thought we were fine, but I wasn’t fully attuned.
Please know—I fought for her.
But I had to lose her to find myself.

And now, I’m working to be ready for you.

I know you are brilliant,
And I look forward to deep conversations,
Where ideas stretch us and questions linger.
I am sharpening my mind for these moments.

I know you are compassionate and kind—
The kind of woman whose presence softens a room.
I’m becoming a better listener,
The kind of man that a woman like you deserves.

I know you’re a feminist—
Strong, independent, and beautifully yourself.
I admire that and am learning to let you be you.

I know you love to laugh, to be playful,
To get a little ridiculous sometimes.
I can’t wait to be silly with you—
To dance in the kitchen or wrestle on the beach.
I am learning to let me be me,
So we can let our guard down and be silly together.

I know you are beautiful,
Though I’ll see it more easily than you do.
And I’ll remind you often,
Not just with words, but with how I look at you.

I know you long to travel—
To wander trails, chase sunsets, and discover something new.
I am immersing myself in nature and learning to enjoy it more.

I know all these things about you
Because I’m starting to see what makes my heart sing
And I won’t settle for anything less.

But honestly—
I don’t know you half as well as I’d like.
I long to learn you slowly, fully, joyfully.
In the meantime, I’ll keep learning myself.

And when we’re both ready,
We’ll find each other.

Sometimes I play the victim, all helpless and in pain.
It might get me some pity, but what else do I gain?
It paints me as the weak one, but that’s not who I’d be
If I stood in my full power and claimed my destiny.

My life does not revolve around another person‘s choice.
I decide who I am, I have the loudest voice.
My love is not defined by the one who turned it down;
She simply could not receive a love this deep and this profound.

So I will hone my loving skills and find a brand new flame —
One who can receive my love and love me back the same.
No longer will I settle for just some scattered crumbs,
For I am not a victim now but one who overcomes.

How did I lose the love we had?
Some days, I blame your choice.
But love can’t live inside a lie—
I silenced your own voice.

I wore the mask of Mr. Right,
And told myself that lie,
While you grew quieter each night,
And love began to die.

I wonder if I made you feel
That you could never speak—
So you pretended all was well,
While growing small and weak.

And when you left without a word,
The silence split my soul.
I felt betrayed—but deep inside,
I know I played a role.

You wouldn’t leave if I had been
The man I swore to be.
But I was blind to all your hurt—
And now you’re lost to me.

Yet through the wreckage, I can see
A gentler kind of grace—
I know you’ll find the joy you need,
And peace in your new place.

And I will heal, and learn to grow—
To love with open eyes.
No more pretending, no more fear,
No more well-dressed lies.

I’m a sad thankful, or a thankful sad,
Mourning the loss of what I once had;
But knowing that losing can become gain,
Because we grow most when we feel pain.

The grief that I feel is making me stronger,
This helps me endure a little bit longer;
Now I look forward to what I’m becoming,
A story of growth that no pain is numbing.

I’ll be what I am because of my loss,
And what I will be is well worth the cost;
So I’m sad to be losing what I once had,
But happy to discover a thankful sad.

Written on Thanksgiving Day 2024

I am a lover separated from his love,
A father who has wounded his children,
A pastor unwelcome in the church,
A professor without a school,
A coach without a team,
An actor without a role.
What am I?
I am Potential.

(c) 2024 David B. Sloan