John Taylor, The Daddy Yo Dude, writes about the agony of heartbreak, setting your ego aside to be better, and the decision to delete his popular fatherhood blog.
I feel like I am having a heart attack. No, really. I feel like I am having a heart attack. Have you ever heard of broken heart syndrome? It’s true. I looked it up. It’s called stress cardiomyopathy. Did you ever think it was possible for a broken heart to be so real?
I never did. Until I became the guy that brought the heavens crashing down on everything important to my life. And the following days brought around several realizations. And perhaps it’s time to just “man the fuck up”. And maybe that means being strong enough to just say goodbye, and walk away from the things that won’t really matter. And that it’s possible that it means I have to be soft enough to dig deep, to accept hurt and feel sorrow. That it’s time to start cleaning up.
No, the net doesn’t need me. My readers don’t need me. My followers, likers, whatevers, do not need me. My family needs me. I need me. They can’t have me if I don’t even have me. What kind of dead-weight-dad would I be living that kind of life? A life of regret? A lifetime thinking when I should be watching? Nah, I’m not going down like that. Once I made the decision to just step away from the online world, I had not a single hesitation to hit the delete buttons.
Does it matter if anyone that has never been closer to me than their keyboard thinks anything of it? No. Does it matter that I have more than likely given up the chance to work with brands? No. Does it matter if anyone out their figures out that I’m not okay enough to do it anymore? No.
What matters is that I know I’m not okay enough to be doing this anymore. I’ve got too much shit to worry about at this point than my Klout score, or your giveaway pitch. My wife is hurting. My children are confused. My heart is in turmoil. Is it okay if I cry for a moment before I continue? The answer is void. I’m going to do it anyway.
How truly easy it is to destroy your own world; to destroy the worlds of others. How minuscule the things we consider big parts of our lives will feel when we realize we are throwing our lives away. How trivial and small I feel for even thinking about leaving this behind as I disconnect the power cord to this computer. The sounds of the central air, the fan above the stove, the clicking of my keyboard just fade away into the unknown. All I can hear as I watch these words appear is the sounds of my kids playing. Possibly being a little more daring than they should, but it’s still the sounds of my children. It’s the sounds of the world that is crumbling beneath me.
Being a good man is admitting that you are not a great man. Being a good man is using masking tape around your mind to pick up every last splinter of the lives and hearts you shatter. Being a good man sometimes means being the strongest you can be, which only comes at your weakest. It sometimes simply means, saying goodbye. It’s been real. It’s been fun. And I’ll catch you on the flipside.
Lead photo of a broken heart sign courtesy of Shutterstock
Photo of John Taylor courtesy of the author