After a breakup, a separation, or a divorce—especially after a long-term relationship—you may find yourself in a space that’s hard to describe.
Not quite pain.
Not quite peace.
Just… nothing.
It’s what I call “the void.”
That space between who you were and who you’re becoming.
Between what was and what could be.
For many men, this is the most disorienting part of the process—not the fight, not the loss, but the stillness that follows.
The void can feel like failure, loneliness, or identity collapse.
But it can also become a sacred space—if you’re willing to stay with it.
In philosophy, the void is not a new idea.
Across all these perspectives is a common thread:
The void is not a flaw in the human experience.
It’s a feature. A portal. A blank canvas.
In modern psychology, the void often shows up as:
• Depression
• Numbness
• Disconnection from self or others
• A loss of meaning or motivation
Post-divorce, it manifests as questions like:
“Who am I without them?”
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“Will I ever feel whole again?”
Many rush to fill this space—with a new partner, a new project, a rebound high.
But when you avoid the void, you rob yourself of the clarity and growth it can offer.
Here are a few ways that I think about being with the void as it comes up in me.
The first step is recognition.
What you’re feeling isn’t “wrong”—it’s part of the transition.
Say it aloud: “I’m in the void.”
Give it shape. Give it meaning.
Resist the urge to do.
Create small rituals of non-doing:
• Sit for 10 minutes with your breath.
• Journal without an agenda.
• Walk without headphones.
Let the quiet speak.
This is the time to ask:
• What roles have I been playing?
• What parts of me were fused with the relationship?
• What lights me up that has nothing to do with her?
Rebuilding starts with remembering.
You’ll be tempted to fix the void externally:
• New relationship
• Constant distraction
• Overworking
• Escapist habits
These aren’t bad—but if they’re your foundation, you’re just papering over the crack.
This isn’t a wasteland.
It’s a womb—where the next version of you is gestating.
To quote what we explored together:“The part that gets us into the void is the loss of purpose, direction, and connection. But in that empty field… something new can be planted.”
After 16 and a half years of marriage, I found myself in the void.
My identity as a husband, a father within a family unit—it dissolved.
What remained felt like emptiness.
At first, I did what many do—I looked outward.
If I could just meet someone new… if I could feel desired again… maybe I’d be okay.
But nothing stuck. Because it wasn’t about someone else.
It was about me.
When I stopped trying to outrun the void and instead sat with it, something shifted.
I began to fill my own cup.
I took accountability for my emotions.
I learned to love myself—not in a cliché way, but in an embodied, humble way.
Years later, I entered a new relationship—not from lack, but from fullness.
And I remember telling her, at a cabin in the Sequoias:
“I’m happier now than I’ve ever been in my life. And that really has nothing to do with you.”
She understood.
Because she knew I wasn’t asking her to fill my void.
I was inviting her to join me in abundance.
If you’re in the void—welcome.
It’s uncomfortable.
It’s lonely.
It’s real.
But it’s also holy ground.
It’s where your next chapter begins—not with a bang, but with a whisper.
Give yourself permission to stop filling it.
Let yourself feel it.
And watch what emerges from the stillness.
✅ Reflect: Are you in the void right now? What are you tempted to fill it with?
✅ Share your experience in the comments below—let’s normalize this part of the journey.
✅ Want help navigating it with guidance and support? Join my coaching group or reach out for a free clarity call.
You don’t have to rush.
You just have to stay.
And the man who walks through the void is never the same one who entered it.