3 a.m.

Three o'clock in the morning can seem glorious. It’s quiet. It’s eternal. And all problems are on hold.

When I was in my twenties 3 a.m. meant I had been out drinking in New York City and was happy to make it back to my apartment with no visible signs of stupidity (i.e. lost wallet, bent glasses, blood on my shirt, etc.…).

In my thirties, 3 a.m. meant I made it back to my apartment in Boca after a night of drinking and smoking pot with a friend.

In my forties, 3 a.m. meant teething and feedings. My wife informed me she was not breastfeeding, so there was no reason I could not feed the baby. “You can go to work five minutes later. Who cares?”

In my fifties, 3 a.m. meant my wife had woken me up to tell me about something I had done to offend her. She would scan my texts and e-mails telling me that if I changed my password, it was because I was hiding something from her. She looked through my wallet for receipts and my car odometer logging mileage, allowing her to question my whereabouts during the day. Once awoken, the odds of going back to sleep were a million to one. The conversations were one-sided and ludicrous even for that hour, always ending the same way, “And your mother is such a bitch.”

Now I’m one year from sixty. 3 a.m. means that I have had five hours of sleep, and my mind is racing with dark thoughts.

My ex-wife continues to fill our sons' heads with negative thoughts about their father, every day, ignoring two court orders enforcing weekly visitation.

While together, she drove a wedge between my family and friends and me. They all stopped talking to me. My mother passed away in August. An attorney informed me by phone in October.

My ex-wife, a true narcissist, had our younger son, a senior in high school, sign a document stating that he wanted nothing to do with me, the day he turned 18. Nice birthday gift.

Nightmares include: the night I proposed, the day of our wedding, the day we bought our house, and the days both of our sons were born. She made each out to be the worst day of my life.

It’s 3 a.m. and I’m thinking of everything I lost. Springsteen’s words, “I wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face” echoing in my head while the bright beams of the moon illuminate the still clouds.

Oh oh. Here come the voices. These voices in my head at 3 a.m. take on different personalities. Sometimes it's my dad. Sometimes it's my mother. Other times, my friend Tom (but only when it’s time for logic). My friend Scott comes by when I need to chuckle and when it involves spirituality, my friend Joe is the savior.

This morning, it’s an old friend. We don’t speak any more thanks to the ex-narc, but I learned so many lessons from him. I worked for him on two separate occasions and still hear his voice at 3 a.m. because after a night of drinking beer until last call, he was always the smartest guy in the room. He used to call it stamina. I call it one in a million. Maybe in life, you have come across someone like this. Life lesson after life lesson that you don’t appreciate until you need something to grasp on to.

The forces of the night sky are causing the paralysis. “Write it down. It’s coming. Nah, no time. Just pay attention.

“Let me ask you a question?”, the voice begins.

I feel his presence but only see the clouds howling as they cover the moon.

“What’s a great day?”

“Well, it’s changed over the years. In my twenties, it was a day at the beach with my brother and a few friends.”

“In my thirties, it was a day with my folks and the family, ya know, the nieces and nephews.”

“Ah, my forties was coaching my sons in basketball.”

He interrupts. “Winning or just coaching?”

“Well, we won so infrequently, it really was the time together. Ya know, even if we won, it was the closeness of ten players and one coach teaching each other about life. I always learned as much from them as they may have learned from me.”

“Anything else?”

“In my early fifties, it was not getting yelled at by my wife?”

“That was a good day?”

“It was survival. She would go off on everything I did and if I didn’t do it, whatever it was, somebody else did it, her sister, a PTA mom, her mother, but I was in the way and once she went off, nothing was off-limits, even the kids. She would say in quite the loud tone that she was ready for a divorce and I could see the boys shake so I’d say that nobody’s getting divorced. Mommy’s just frustrated.”

“And today?”

“Meditating on the beach.”

“So, Steven, help me understand. Why the negative thoughts? Why the constant fear? Let me ask you something? Are you safe? Does anyone yell at you? Is there anyone trying to hurt you?”

“No. Just say it. Just ask me. What’s causing me to exist and not live?”

I could not see him, but his presence was in front of me. I felt as if he were looking right through me, knowing the answers but like he did all those years ago, he wanted me to dig deep and use what came up as fuel.

“I am one year from sixty. I have 35 years of business and life experience and my ex-wife has told my kids so many horrific stories, most made up, that they want nothing to do with me. She took every dime I ever made. She caused me to lose touch with my family and friends. My body seems to be changing before my eyes. Suddenly, I’m fifteen pounds overweight. Years ago, I broke up with a woman who I was head over heels in love with because of a miscommunication with my father proving that I had limited ability back then to think for myself. It was a lifetime ago, but I think about her every day. I married my ex-wife because I was told to do so by the same person who told me to break up with the woman I loved.”

“Stop. Nothing else matters until you resolve this.”

“Resolve what? I feel like I’m sinking in quicksand.”

“No kidding. Of course you do. You just told me what the problem is. Everything else is minutia. Right? You cannot fix everything else until you get to the root cause and you just did.”

I looked around the room. “Well, don’t leave me now. What are you talking about?”

“Okay. So, you think you’re the first person in the world to suffer from a bad marriage and I’m just spit-balling here, but you stayed because of your sons.”

“Yepper. But this wasn’t a bad marriage. It was me ducking every time I walked in or she called, or I went to sleep.”

“I get it. But you contributed. So, you have an opportunity.”

“You’re turning this into business?”

“Life and business occupy the same slope, right? I told you years ago, life is a marathon. Not a sprint. Your job? Take the wrong route, find the right one, and move forward with confidence. All the people leading you down the wrong path are gone. You’re the one hanging on to them. It’s now time to move on to the right path. Okay, you were broken. But to be clear we are not having this conversation if you are not on the mend. Lean on the positive people. Stop the whining and the feeling sorry for yourself. You’re allowing yourself to gain weight. You’re looking to blame everyone and that includes yourself. Your father threw you into a world of chaos. Her envy of others caused hatred in you. You are not good at hatred. You’re too nice. I saw it. I know. Most people know. You’re not an outward fighter. You’re not a loser either. And by an outward fighter, I mean you internalize. You have fought back in your life with success. You have lost some direction. Time to unscramble the pieces. She was envious of you and the closeness to your family and your friends. All of it caused her abuse to escalate. So, let’s say we justify everything over the past twenty years by outwardly saying she was hollow and empty- a wounded child who never grew up, blaming others and fighting with force. She was underdeveloped and did much damage to workplaces, relationships, your family, perhaps her own family, and who knows what to your boys? But end it now. It’s all gone. You’ve been kicked and beaten like an old dog but guess what? You survived. And you now have an opportunity to clean yourself up and come back. I’ve told you, people like a good comeback story. You are not the same young, naïve sales rep who I hired on two separate occasions. Like you said, you now have years of experience to share, mostly with your boys. They need you. They, and you, who has not realized it yet. You have this ability to see the many beautiful shades of gray. She never knew how to love, and you never knew how to say no. Now go find what it is you seek. Look at it every day. Be the nice guy that you’ve always been. Lose the anger, and for goodness’ sake stop telling people she broke you. Time to pull back the curtain and see the vastness of the universe.”

“Wow, that's pretty good. You got anything else?”

“Time to put one foot in front of the other. Move past the negative. Learn from it. Use it as a teaching moment when your boys return.”

“Yeah, well, I think that ship has sailed.”

“For the moment. Prepare for it. Be ready for it. When it happens, they’ll need you. Show them, without words, that it’s all over. Bring back the guy who coached them when they were five years old. Show them the adult ready to escape from within.”

“So you’re telling me I will see them again?”

“Yes, but not until you are ready. So, get ready because you will not be given more than you can handle. And guess what? You just handled it. Now, prepare for what you will need. Drop the negative attitude. Feeling sorry for yourself? Over. And most importantly, be nice to yourself. Eat a chocolate bar. Eggplant Parm sandwich and a Yoo-hoo. Have a cocktail. Buy a latte. And when the time is right, reach out your lost love.”

“You got any more cliche’s in there? What do you know? You think?”

“These are more than cliches. That’s why they are timeless. You think about her?”

“Only every day. By the way, you know who she is.”

“Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who knows who. It’s about maturity. You’ve grown. And now it’s time to put all the pieces together. Why not find out if there are still sparks? But only when the time is right. Do what you need to do first. Clean up the last twenty years. “

“How do I do that? I made more than my share of mistakes.”

“You have. This proves that your maturity level has risen. You know what to do. It’s time to execute and move forward. I know you can do it. More importantly, you know you can do it.”

And with that, he was gone. The voice departed. The universe was covered up, and the vastness stared me in the face.

3:01 a.m. I am more enlightened than ever. All that in one minute? It feels like we spoke for two hours. Was it a dream or was it real? He was here. I swear he was here. How is it that in one minute I’m seeing things more clearly yet if I tell anybody they’ll take me away in a straitjacket?

Jeez, 3 a.m. sure has changed.