Where I've been . . . and where I'm going.

Monday Mutiny | 9.30.2024

For starters, let me begin by apologizing for not writing anything in nearly a month. The reality is, I’ve found myself in a rather dark headspace the past few weeks; I’ve been stressing about selling my home, worrying about work (or the lack thereof), and counting down the days until I’m separated from my son as he moves across the country without me (I actually dropped Ethan and his mother off at the airport just two hours ago).

To put it simply: my life is, well, not a life that I ever would have envisioned—let alone chosen—for myself. But, as difficult as it has been lately, it does feel as though things are beginning to turn around, or, at the very least, putting me in a position to turn over a new leaf.

Now, I don’t know exactly when I’ll be making the move out of Florida myself, but I’ll definitely be moving soon because I refuse to live any more than thirty minutes from my son. That’s just not the kind of dad I want to be. So, once my house sells, I’ll be on the road making the 2,665-mile drive from Loxahatchee, Florida, to Los Angeles, California.

(If all goes well, I’ll be on the move within a month.)

I truthfully never planned to return to the Golden State, but there are so many things that I’ve experienced this past year that I never thought I would either, so I suppose plugging back into the matrix of Los Angeles is just another unexpected life detour. I’ll make the most of it, even though it feels a bit like returning to an abusive relationship.

The more we thought about it (and despite us both fighting against it), California is the best option for Kelsey and I right now as we navigate life as co-parents. In CA, we have friends, family, and work opportunities—the three things that we’ve both desperately craved over the past few years.

To be completely transparent—because I don’t really know how to write any other way—the past year nearly destroyed me. The truth is, I’ve been dancing around bankruptcy for about twelve months, doing whatever I could to avoid it, and selling my home is simply the final step in fixing my financial situation. In fact, had it not been for this Substack—and your support—there are several months that I would not have been able to pay my mortgage. So, for those of you who have opted to become paid subscribers to this platform,“THANK YOU.” Seriously. Your support was/is more appreciated than I was willing to express at the time because I was too fucking embarrassed to admit how much I needed it.

I made mistakes, I misjudged people, I miscalculated projects and timelines, and I paid the price (both mentally and financially).

But surprisingly, my only real regret during all of it was/is losing faith in myself. I stopped believing that I was capable of creating a solution, which isn’t like me. Before financial stress consumed my life, I was stubborn in all the right ways (and some of the wrong); I truly believed that I was in control of my destiny and that I could make a difference in my life and the lives of others by simply putting in the effort to do so. I walked into every room, stepped onto every stage, and logged into my laptop every morning, with the belief that I could change the future. And, for a long time, I did.

But, when I could no longer stay on top of my bills, and I was continually kicked down with book rejections, bad business partnerships, and some legal issues, I lost sight of my potential; I lost sight of everything that I’ve done and everything that I used to dream of doing. (It’s hard to appreciate the beauty of the sea when you’re struggling to tread water while the sharks continue nipping at your feet.)

I do believe a large cause of my vision impairment has been the rather isolated lifestyle that I’ve been living. When my relationship ended, and my son’s mother moved out, living on a dirt road in the country lost all of its luster for me because I was no longer working to build or maintain a homestead for my “family.” What was once a place of peace and potential became an expensive box of isolation and depression. It’s astounding how empty a home can feel when yours is the only voice that echoes.

I’m really looking forward to being closer to friends and family again because my transformation into a hermit over the past few months has messed with my sanity. I feel as though I’ve been slowly devolving into something more reptilian than human—cold-blooded and closed-off—and I’m far too social of an individual for that lifestyle. I’ll save the “alligator man” transformation for when I’m seventy; when I’m old enough to have a beard like Gandalf and grandchildren to visit me regularly.

In this sense, I know that moving on is the right decision. Not only will selling my home solve some longstanding financial issues, but I know it will spur me creatively because I will no longer be burdened by the soul-crushing stress of ever-looming bankruptcy. And, I do believe that, with time, I will feel restored emotionally when I’m no longer living with the ghosts and shadows of the dreams that this home once held for me. When I can finally put all of this behind me, new dreams will come to be.

“We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.”

—Joseph Campbell

In the coming months, expect a lot of announcements from me because I have several projects in the works that I’m finally pulling the trigger on; taking a shot on myself is the only thing that’s ever worked for me. And that is the example that I want my son to see. Whether in Florida, California, or wherever life takes us next, I want Ethan to know that his father never gave up.

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Thanks for reading. I appreciate your support and attention.

-Kyle, aka “The Capt.”

P.S. If you know of anyone in Los Angeles willing to rent me a home on the west side with room for me, my son, and two Great Danes, please let me know. At this point in my life, I’m not even picky—I just need a small yard, a place to write, and somewhere to park a truck. I’ll get picky once I get my shit together.