The divorce was finalized on September 28th. Two days ago. I sat in my empty apartment — she got the house — and I realized I had nothing. No routine. No structure. No reason to wake up at any particular time.
Then I remembered something my father told me when I was 17: when everything else falls apart, the iron does not. The iron is always there. The iron does not leave. The iron does not file paperwork.
I went to the gym that night. 11 PM. I had not been in years. I picked up a barbell. I did squats. Bad form. Wrong weight. It did not matter. What mattered was that I was there. What mattered was that something in the universe was still solid.
This journal begins here. Day 1. Post-divorce. Pre-everything else.