A few years ago, I was invited by a good friend to go see Thomas “She Blinded Me with Science” Dolby in concert at The Canyon Club in Agoura Hills, California. To set the table for you, the interior of the club looks as if it hasn't been updated since 1972, but yet it has this odd magnetism of yesteryear attached to it that makes it extremely hard to stay away. The main ingredient of that magnetism is still supplied by the fact that a good majority of the bands that play there, while still beloved, aren't quite as popular as they once were.

It truly is one of the last places around where you can sit at your weathered red pleather booth eating dinner while you watch a concert. That's right, nothing quite like enjoying a semi-flavorful steak while simultaneously enjoying the musical flavors of Meatloaf. It may sound odd to some, but that's the kind of place we're talking about here, and it was pretty awesome.

My friend thought Thomas Dolby was slated to go on at 9 p.m., so we rolled in at the tragically hip-middle-aged-white-guy-almost-bedtime time of 8:58 p.m. Yeah, we had it like that. As we walked through the doors all we heard was Thomas singing at the top of his lungs “SCIENCE,” then the big finish, and the crowd went crazy! Wait, “Science”?! Why would Thomas Dolby start the show with his biggest hit? He wouldn't. The show started at 8, not 9. Thomas had already blinded everyone, and he was out.

At that point, there wasn't much we could do other than laugh at our misfortune. Once the lights went up, we did some serious people watching at a crowd that could have easily been cast as extras in the Star Wars cantina bar scene. Luckily, there was another act following Thomas, so we grabbed a few drinks and waited for Colin Hay to take the stage. For those of you who don't know, Colin was the frontman for the group Men at Work in the 80s and more than likely was the man who introduced 99 percent of you to a “vegemite sandwich.”

Once Colin took the stage, his talent was apparent and his solo acoustic material was addicting. If you don't believe me, just ask Sir Paul McCartney, who was in a tiny roped-off area next to the bathrooms dancing on top of a table. Yep, the two celebrities at a dinner club watching Colin Hay perform were The Mimbo and a Beatle—sounds like a 70s cop drama on CBS from the creator of Jake and The Fatman. I seriously can't tell you how many times I've thought just how odd that entire evening was. I felt like I was in some sort of parallel universe, but it was running five seconds behind actual time.

Toward the end of his set, Colin performed his song “Waiting for My Real Life to Begin.” I'd never heard the song prior to that night, but it was a beautiful, engaging song, which I instantly related to. Once I was home after the show, I downloaded it immediately. Over the course of the next year of my life, it kind of became my personal anthem. I'd listen to it at least once a day.

To me, the message of the song basically speaks of someone who knows better things are right around the corner. He's dreamt of them happening and he's anxiously waiting for that moment to arrive, but it never does. Some may see it as a song of despair, I saw it as a song of hope. Probably because I was at a place not just in my professional life, but more so in my personal life, where I was “hoping” for things to get better. Unfortunately, in my heart I honestly knew they wouldn't.

For many years I was in a relationship that filled my life with toxicity. Continually hiding it from the world was a burdensome weight I could no longer carry. I had reached a point where I refused to continue down the path that I was on. My children will always be my everything, but deep down inside, I knew I was at a crossroad on my journey, and a life-altering decision was necessary for myself, as well as for them.

It was unfair for my kids to grow up watching a poor imitation of what a “happy” life was. So, I knew it was time for a change because I'd never forgive myself if they were to then repeat that broken cycle in their own relationships. I believe you're supposed to show you children the proper way to live life, no matter how much pain you may have to endure to do so. It's called being a parent.

In trying to manage my life from that point on, I would often think of the Canyon Club night and realize the reason I was there on that odd evening. I came to the conclusion that it was the universe's way of letting me know, there's nothing wrong with wanting your real life to begin. I just needed to stop waiting for it to begin. Get busy living or get busy dying.

The next few years of my life was an extremely difficult progression that culminated in a life-changing, literal “man in the mirror” moment. In the end, I came out the other side being a single father, which at the time was definitely what I wanted. My children and I endured a lot of pain over that span, but we garnered strength from having gone through it, learned from it, and realized that when it comes to love, you should never compromise. As painful as that process was, I'd finally reached a point where I could now be truly open and honest with myself and my children. I was finally free to be the father I always knew I could be, which was the best thing for all of us.

Anyone who has experienced extreme personal pain knows that it's worthy of an entire book in itself. Thankfully, this is not that book. It's silly for me to think I could tell any of you something you don't already know. The truth is, each and every one of us comes equipped with all the necessary knowledge we need to navigate this lifetime. The issue lies in being brave enough to use that knowledge to confront our pain and, in doing so, allowing ourselves to learn from that confrontation. Having the strength to come to that realization allowed me to move forward with my life in the most positive way possible and to write this book.

There's one thought regarding all of this that I've shared with my children, and I'd like to share it with you.