It wasn’t that long ago when I wrote, “The loneliness of men.” Now little did I know that here I am years later and I’m writing about the grim reality of men – some men that is – again, this time the unimaginable potential consequences of end state loneliness. So here we go again, another should I “go there” or “not go there” conundrum. Well, for yours truly a “greater good” prevailed in that there’s something to be learned from today’s topic about the pain experienced by divorced me and the truism that there’s always two sides to every story. Of course, reality is that the complex mix of emotions and knee jerk reactions often block us from considering the other story.
But let me say this before going further. My focus on the plight of divorced men in no way ignores or diminishes the situation of divorced women. The research on how women experience divorce is extensive and plentiful. So rather than rebut this piece with a “whataboutism, “I encourage anyone so inclined to write something on the subject of the pain experienced by divorced women.
So with that out of the way, today’s narrative is a personal perspective by a lawyer about former Virginia Lieutenant Governor Justin Fairfax who recently killed his wife and himself. By stretch of imagination – and real possibility – there are “Justins” you know now or someday will know who like Fairfax may be suffering in silence after a painful divorce. Keep their names top of mind as you read this piece. Here’s an abbreviated version of the lawyer’s response to the Fairfax tragedy:
“Before anything else, this must be said clearly. Nothing about what happened is justified. Nothing about it is acceptable. The tragedy sparked national conversations about domestic violence, especially by men. Many people were quick to label Justin a coward who murdered his wife and left a legacy of pain for his children. Others saw the moment as an opportunity to turn it into an attack on men as a whole. But what is missing from most of these conversations is a deeper examination of the conditions that can lead to tragedies like this. Not to excuse the outcome, but to understand how a human being gets to that point. That outcome is often the end of a long and painful descent. I write from personal experience as a recently divorced man.
I have spoken to many men who are going through divorce or who are already divorced. Many of them have admitted that, at their lowest moments, they thought about suicide, murder, or even harming their ex. They did not act on those thoughts because of their faith, their values, or their sense of morality. Yet they understood how a man could get there. They did not condone it, but they recognized the darkness because they had walked through it.
This is why the Fairfax tragedy is not an isolated tragedy. Situations involving separation, especially when couples remain under the same roof while emotions are raw and unresolved, are some of the most volatile environments people can experience. What makes this a tragedy of isolation is what often happens to men in these moments. It was reported that Justin became isolated after he lost his job following a scandal. I understand what that kind of isolation feels like, because I lived it.
Once my ex announced our separation, almost every mutual friend we had took her side. The women moved first. The men followed. I confronted them about the fact that their wives had already taken sides without even hearing from me. These were people I had celebrated, supported, and stood beside through major moments in their lives. I held their hands through legal issues and walked with them through the grieving of loved ones. Yet when my life began to unravel, they disappeared. When I did not hear from one of my close friends, I called her. She told me she had not reached out because she was shocked by the news. A few weeks later, she posted on social media that nothing quite prepares you for the moment when the delusion of who you think a person is becomes irreparably shattered by the truth of who they are. She never spoke to me again.
For a long time I could not understand why the male friends would distance themselves the way they did. That understanding came later during a conversation with an elderly divorced man who had lived through the same experience many years before me. He explained that married men often distance themselves from friends going through divorce to preserve peace in their own homes. In doing so, they leave their friends alone in one of the most difficult seasons of their lives.
This is how isolation takes shape. That isolation creates a mental and emotional spiral. It places a man in a position where he has no one to confide in, no one willing to listen without judgment.
Divorce feels like death without a burial. The relationship is gone, but its presence lingers. You are forced to coexist with the ghost of a life that no longer exists. In Justin’s case, he had lost his job, his reputation, and his stability and he was facing the loss of his home. That is not a single loss. That is a collapse of identity, structure and control all at once. A man in that condition is not just hurting. He is in a dangerous psychological state. That does not justify violence. It explains why intervention, connection, and awareness are critical before situations reach a breaking point.
I’ve seen how close situations can come to crossing that line. In my own situation, I was blessed with a couple who refused to take sides. They understood that staying in that environment created the risk of escalation into violence or even allegations of violence that could have permanently altered my life.
Even after I moved back to my house following her departure to an apartment she rented, the conflict did not immediately end. She came back to confront me. That confrontation escalated to a point where it nearly became physical. She opened my car door and got inside while I was trying to leave to avoid the situation. I had to call the police to deescalate the moment. The next day, I filed for an Order of Protection. In that moment the only person I thought to call was the friend who had refused to take sides. That is the difference presence makes.
You do not have to choose sides to show care. You can support both individuals without contributing to the breakdown. Check on them consistently. Do not assume silence means strength. Let them speak without judgment. Pay attention to warning signs. When a man begins to withdraw completely, when he speaks as though he has nothing left, when anger turns into despair, those are not moments to ignore. Married men must be intentional about not abandoning their friends during these seasons. Supporting a friend does not threaten your home. It reflects your character. The responsibility is not just to observe. It is to show up. You do not have to agree with someone to listen to them. You do not have to take sides to remind them they are not alone.
Isolation distorts thinking. It magnifies pain. It removes the very relationships that could prevent tragedy. Men, do not abandon your friends when their lives are falling apart. Stay present. Call them. Listen to them. Give them space to release what they are carrying before it consumes them. If you know a man who is going through divorce or silently struggling, reach out to him today. That call might make more difference than you realize.”
Now I want to bring this piece to a close and unburden myself with full disclosure. You see, after reading this lawyer’s piece in its entirety, I realized that I’d taken the side of a wife who I’d known for years during her bitter divorce from her husband. When her now ex-husband pleaded with me to hear his side of the story I emphatically shut down that possibility and abruptly ended the phone call. But a short time after reading the lawyer’s perspective above, I confronted the man in the mirror, didn’t like what I saw, and called him to apologize. He accepted my apology and thanked me over and over again for calling him.
So, if this piece resonates with you in some way don’t hesitate to make that call because a “Justin” (“Jose,” “Mustafa,” “Pete,” or “Jamar”) may be anxiously waiting to hear from you.
Bottom line: your call could be a matter of life or death, literally!
Terry Howard is an award-winning writer, a contributing writer with the Chattanooga News Chronicle, The American Diversity Report, The Douglas County Sentinel, TheBlackmarket.com, recipient of the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Leadership Award, and third place winner of the Georgia Press Award.
