It doesn’t always start with a crisis.
Sometimes, it starts with something small—a missed call, a tense message, a wave of guilt or loneliness that hits you late at night.
And before you even realize it, you’ve slipped into it again.
That heavy fog.
The scrolling. The drinking. The sleeping in. The snapping at your kids.
The shame that follows.
And the numbing that follows that.
This is what I call the Doom Cycle—a loop of self-defeating behaviors that feel like coping, but only ever leave you feeling worse. For men navigating separation or divorce, this cycle can be brutal. It doesn’t just slow you down—it keeps you stuck.
When you're in it, everything feels like quicksand. You can see the person you want to be, but every attempt to move toward him gets swallowed by habits that promise relief but deliver regret. Maybe it’s overworking. Maybe it’s isolation. Maybe it's Tinder, whiskey, Netflix, or just shutting down. Whatever it is, it’s become the thing you reach for—not because it helps, but because it’s familiar.
The hardest part? You know better.
You’ve read the books.
You’ve had the talks.
You’ve told yourself, never again.
But here you are again, wondering why willpower isn’t enough.
The truth is, this isn’t about logic. This is about pain.
And when pain goes unprocessed,it demands escape.
The Doom Cycle is often triggered by a sense of overwhelm—too many emotions, too little support, and no clear roadmap for what comes next.
Divorce doesn’t just break a relationship; it breaks the rhythm of your life.
Suddenly, you’re not who you were, but you don’t know who you’re becoming either.
And in that void, numbing looks a lot more appealing than feeling.
But here’s the thing most men don’t realize: awareness alone is not transformation. Recognizing that you’re in the cycle is powerful—but what you do next is everything. And it begins not with a dramatic gesture, but with one simple moment of honesty: “I’m in it.”
When you can name the pattern without shame, you take back a piece of your power. You stop being the victim of your coping, and you start becoming the observer of your choices. That’s the opening. That’s the beginning.
From there, it’s about disrupting the rhythm. If your usual exit is a drink, a hook-up, or another five hours in front of a screen, the work isn’t about deprivation—it’s about interruption. Can you pause for 30 seconds before the escape? Can you breathe? Can you ask yourself, “What am I feeling right now?”
This isn’t about stopping the behavior cold turkey. It’s about building awareness into your responses. Because every moment of awareness is a moment of choice—and every choice is a small reclaiming of your agency.
One of the most powerful tools I’ve seen in this process is community. The Doom Cycle feeds on isolation. When you’re alone in your head, the shame echoes louder. But when you bring your truth into a group of other men—who’ve been there, who don’t flinch—you break the illusion that you’re uniquely broken. You start to feel less like a failure and more like a man in process.
And from that place, change becomes possible.
I've seen it firsthand. A man caught in a pattern of numbing through casual sex and alcohol, convinced he was too damaged to love, finally sat with his grief in a group session. He didn’t fix anything that night. But he stopped running. And that was everything. The next day, he made one different choice. Then another. Then another.
That’s how the Doom Cycle breaks—not with a breakthrough, but with a series of imperfect, courageous choices made one day at a time.
And here’s the truth I need you to hear: You are not broken.
You are responding to pain the best way you know how.
But now, you get to learn a better way.
This isn’t about perfection. This is about pattern recognition. It’s about stepping out of autopilot and asking a better question: What do I actually need right now? It might be rest. It might be movement. It might be connection. It might be to cry in your car for five minutes without judging yourself.
Whatever it is, I promise you this: it’s not found at the bottom of a bottle or buried under avoidance. It’s found in your presence.
The Doom Cycle thrives in silence and shame. But it dies in the light.
So here’s your invitation: Let’s shine some light.
If this resonated with you, here’s what to do next:
You’re not weak for struggling.
You’re human.
And the fact that you’re still here—still searching—means your story isn’t over.
Let’s start writing the next chapter together.