Dealing with Divorced Dad Worries: How to Survive Friday With (or Without) Your Kids — Divorced Dads Support Group

Hey you, divorced dads, MikeMac here! I know Friday afternoons are rarely just the start of a normal weekend. It’s often a major battleground for our mental peace. Whether you are dealing with the intense divorced dad worries of a packed weekend with your children or facing the deafening silence of an empty house when it is not your turn for custody, the stress is completely real.

Too many fathers find themselves spinning their wheels in what I call the divorce ditch, feeling entirely alone while trying to figure out co-parenting boundaries, financial strain, and the deep emotional toll of life after divorce. If you are sitting in a parking lot right now with a pit in your stomach wondering how to survive the next 48 hours, I need you to know two things: your struggles are valid, and you do not have to drive this road by yourself.

Now that I’ve got your attention:

Welcome to the new ABC broadcasting network.

Now, when I say ABC, I’m not talking about the mainstream media world. I’m not here to hype up small things into big, monster problems to make you live your life in fear.

No, sir.

Around here, ABC means one thing and one thing only:

Always Be Convoy.

We’re keeping it real. We’re keeping it raw. And today, I want to talk about something I call Fly Away Friday.

The McDonald’s Handoff

If you happen to live up here in Northern New York around Massena, or anywhere else across this country, I want you to picture a scene. It’s Friday afternoon at the local McDonald’s parking lot.

You see it happen all the time. A car pulls in, doors open, and a weekend transfer takes place. The kids move from the mom’s car to the dad’s truck or they come inside to have a quick meal before they go off for a weekend with dad.

For a lot of divorced dads, Friday afternoons are a battleground.

• If it’s not your weekend, you’re driving back to a house that feels way too big and way too quiet.
• If it is your weekend, you might be sitting there with a pit in your stomach, looking at a bank account with zero money, wondering how you’re going to keep those kids fed and happy until Sunday night.

I know that stress. I’ve sat in those exact coordinates a few too many times.

The Message on the Floor

Twenty years ago, my life suffered a catastrophic breakdown. My first wife suddenly left with the kids. There was no warning, no sit-down talk. I came home from work, pushed open the front door and stood there staring at an empty house.

Well, not entirely empty.

She left one thing behind: a single twin mattress lying on the floor where our queen bed used to be.

That mattress was a message. And when I opened our bedroom door? The room suddenly became mine, and the silence was deafening.

I felt completely, utterly alone.

For the next ten years, I clawed my way out of that deep, dark divorce ditch by myself. I didn’t confide in anyone. I didn’t let anyone know how ashamed or broken I was.

I even tried going to a church back then, and someone basically told me I wasn’t wanted there. I didn’t darken the door of a church on my own accord for a long time after that. I blamed God. I blamed the courts. I pointed fingers outward at the entire system, never realizing until recently how much of that ditch was of my own doing.

From Human Doing to Human Being

See, I’ve been a “human doing” most of my life. I started working at ten years old, shoveling calf manure in the barns, moving irrigation pipes, doing the heavy grinding of a farm boy.

I learned early that my value came from doing and earning. Later on, I spent years driving the big rigs, keeping the wheels turning, always running.

But three years ago this month, God put a major roadblock in my lane. I rolled my big rig.

I had no desire to go back to driving a truck after that. I sat my rear end on the couch for a year, watching Netflix and feeling sorry for myself. But looking back now? I’m thankful for that rollover. I’m thankful for the “hitch in my gitty-up” that recently ended my working career.

I just turned 62 a couple of days ago. And because of those roadblocks, God has cleared the deck and given me the time and space to do what I was put here to do.

I might not drive a commercial truck anymore, but I’m still driving a big rig. The inner big rig of ME, with my mind motor, heart transmission and a rear end. And I’m here to help you drive your personal big rig.

Join the Convoy

When you are stuck in that deep dark ditch of divorce, you feel completely disconnected. You think nobody cares, and nobody is coming to help.

That’s why we built this beautiful, sacred, safe place for dads.

Always Be Convoy means you don’t roll alone. A lone truck in a ditch is a wreck. A convoy is a powerful force moving down the highway together, pulling each other through the rough terrain. We are here to get your personal rig-your mind motor, your heart transmission, and your rear end-back onto life’s highway.

If you’ve got your kids this weekend, elevate and celebrate. If you don’t have your kids this weekend, elevate and celebrate on the inside, and get your rig ready for when you do.

Don’t be like the Mike of 20 years ago. Stop clawing alone. Join the convoy.

We’re going from our worst breakdowns to our best breakthroughs right here.

I love you guys. I’ll see you on the flip-flop.

- Coach MikeMac

Originally published at https://divorceddad.support on June 6, 2026.