At forty-one years old, I am at a very interesting point in my life, and I feel lucky to be here. I have learned, I have loved, and after knocking my head against walls of all kinds—some of which I built myself—I’ve discovered who I am and what I want out of life. And you’ll never know what it is! Just kidding. What I want out of life is simple: I want happiness—the kind that keeps your soul warm even when the world around you is cold. I want peace, and I find that in my home and in my mind when I make time to meditate. I want love, and I have found it in so many places. I want family, and I’m lucky to still have my mother, my sister, and my two amazing children.

For our boys’ sake, I’m happy that Pamela and I have put a lot of our differences behind us. We’re finally able to enjoy what we started: the beautiful babies whom our love brought into the world.

Healing takes a lot of time and when you’re impatient, it takes forever. She and I loved so intensely that when it blew up, it left scars, anger, resentment—and don’t get me started again on the lawyers’ bills. Finally, finally, finally, she and I can look at each other and say, “What the fuck were we doing, dude? That shit was retarded.” So many people who divorce never get to that point—I’m blessed that we have. I know our boys are happier seeing us together these days. I can see it in their eyes.

I took them to the X Games last year, with Pamela. We had crazy good seats, the boys were on the dirt-bike track, and there we all are. I’m sure they’re wondering what’s going on, Mom and Dad are there with them, and Mom is kissing Dad and Daddy is kissing Mommy. And my little boy Dylan turns to me and is like, “Daddy, you’re kissing Mommy!” He was trippin’. He looked at us like, “What are they doing?” Right then, Pamela looks at him and says, “It’s okay. I love your dad.”

I’ve done a lot of soul-searching in the last few years and it wasn’t easy, but it was always worth it. The best way I found to get to the bottom of how I am feeling at those moments is to write myself a letter. It gets my mind open until everything pours out. I’m going to share one with you. It was written as this project was undertaken.

Hey Tommy,

I’m writing to tell you that I’m not sure where I am anymore. I know a few things. I’ll never move out of Malibu... until I’m ready to build my dream home in Bora Bora. I’ve been there six times and I will either build a second home there or retire there when I’m ready. Life is still really good for me in spite of all the drama—jail, the custody battles, the courts, the probation. In spite of it, I’m happy for it. I’m learning what I never took the time to learn. I’ve still got hurdles—a lot of them. Life can be so unpredictable sometimes. I’m really confused about relationships in general. Why do they start off so sweet and fresh and turn sour so quickly?

I’ve really been enjoying being alone for the first time in my life. I play music, I create music, I play with my kids, I answer to no one, and I come and go as I please. I’ve got the space to do more soul-searching and I really need to. All of us desire companionship, but not all of us need it. Those are two completely different animals.

To tell the truth, I feel a bit lost right now. I’m in my forties. I don’t know if I have the energy to put into a relationship that may or may not work. So far I’ve been through two marriages, one annulment, and one engagement—and here I am. Why should I go down that path again?

Starting my book has gotten me thinking as I go over the details of my life. I’m reliving my past accomplishments and thinking about my future goals. I’m bringing my mistakes and my lessons out into the light. I’m realizing all over again how extraordinary my life has been.

That’s it for today. And who knows what tomorrow will bring me, or what I’ll do about it. Don’t worry, I’ll fill you in as it comes.

Be you, be safe, be good, be what you want, be what you are.

This is the end of the ride, ladies and gentleman. Thank you for visiting Tommyland and I hope you enjoyed your stay. I’m sorry to say that all good things must come to an end, and this is where we must part. After the safety bar is released, the door will open automagically. Please take a look around to make sure you have all your belongings and loved ones as you make your way to the exit. For those of you first-timers, do come again, we’re open all year. For those regulars who have a season pass, well, I’ll be seeing you again real soon I’m sure. I’m staying, because after all, I live here.