From a skateboard to a divorce: how writer Henk van Straten ended his marriage by letter

From one day to the next, writer Henk van Straten (38) broke up his marriage, and moved into a tiny house. About his struggles with loneliness, single parenthood, booze, pills and a sex addiction, he wrote Messages from the halfway house: a witty and ruthlessly honest account of his early midlife crisis.

Skateboarding veteran

Your crisis started, according to your book at least, with a skateboard?

'Exactly. I was 35, and my eldest son started taking skateboarding lessons. That suppleness, nonchalance and freedom all those guys had... it started itching. I bought a board and told myself that I thought it was just cool for on the wall, as art. At some point I decided to buy wheels anyway. I remember the embarrassment I felt when I walked into the skateboard shop. With all my tattoos, I look like a skate veteran, even though I knew nothing about it. I chose the symbolism of that skateboard as a starting point for the story - the book is 100 per cent autobiographical, but I have edited reality. My book should be a work of art in its own right, because my divorce in itself is not so special or intense that it validates a book. I hope that my story and the musings in it tell something not only about my life, but about life in general, and about how you do it as an adult: dealing with loneliness, sadness and guilt. These are universal values that I try to highlight.'

Early midlife crisis

Why did you want out of your marriage?

'I think I had an early midlife crisis. I got married when I was 25, so very young. At that time, I didn't know I could write; my wife and I both hadn't finished school and worked in the hospitality industry. In that, we found each other. But my writing began to develop, and you change a lot between 25^e and 35th. After 10 years of marriage, I felt, and it was really a physical sensation: I'm never going to last until I die. It wasn't that I wanted out of our marriage because I felt so bad about it, it felt more like I had a book in my hands and knew there was another chapter to come. I just couldn't help myself. It was like I was a caterpillar working its way out of a cocoon. At some point it tore.'

Whereas, as you so beautifully describe, she was the first one you really felt at home with.

'That made perfect sense too, with the complex childhood I had and described in my previous book We do not say half-brother here. I wanted my own nest, which was safe and would always be there. But gradually, the little bird I was got bigger and older, and I wanted to fly out and catch worms of my own. That desire initially manifested itself in things like skateboarding, but that only worked for a while. Eventually, it was also so banal that I just wanted to lash out again and experience who I was on my own, with a place of my own. Then there's really no turning back. Besides, I have a kind of fatalism in me, a rigorous-wanting-to-be-from-it behaviour. Maybe I should have considered couples therapy, but in my head I had already decided there was nothing more to be done.'

Inevitable

But why end your marriage by letter?

'Because I can write a lot better than talk. The first time the thought of leaving came to me, I immediately pushed it away. I can't do this to her, we have two children, a house - it can't be done. But when it became clear to me that it was unavoidable, I wanted to explain it to her as best I could, perhaps also so that I could properly articulate my thoughts to myself. While I was still living my family life 'normally', I sat alone in my office for days at night, typing that letter. Terrible.'

Anesthesia against loneliness

After the divorce, you resorted to pills, booze and other substances. Anaesthetic against loneliness?

'Yes, and besides, I had so much chaos and pain and confusion in my head that I slept a lot better with a pill or a couple of Duvel. I had to search for meaning again, everything seemed weird. Sometimes I stood endlessly on the threshold of the bathroom, unable to decide whether to take a bath or sit in the living room. Every day when I get up I have to spend the first few minutes thinking about what makes life worth living again. Then I take a shower, give my lizard a grasshopper, feel like writing a piece and then I'm fine. There is a lot of melancholy in this book, because I was just sitting there, alone in that in-between house. What do you do it all for? I was constantly battling that feeling.'

No shock effect

Never thought: should I write all this down?

'No, I write down what is necessary for the story. By the way, the first version was much more explicit about the sex, until someone asked: what does that add? It shouldn't be exclusively a shock effect, that shouldn't be the appeal of the story. As prose, it should be good. That it is about me is an afterthought. I am only ashamed of pieces that I think could have been better, like the first pieces I wrote about my divorce for the website of Linda. I would have preferred not to publish those, but that's not because of privacy reasons, but because I feel that stylistically I have already moved on a lot. Of course I look back on things - mornings when I woke up with someone or in a certain situation - that I think: that was not my finest hour. But apparently I needed that at the time.'

Why did you throw yourself at it like that?

'Maybe it was a kind of self-flagellation? That stuff with those women brought a huge amount of anxiety, and yet I kept looking for it. I felt like a mink, so when someone wants you and finds you sexy, it feels nice. But once on the way to such an appointment, I got super nervous; it never became routine, even when I was sixty women ahead. And always that hope: maybe she's really cute. Because somewhere I am also a romantic and secretly hoped to feel love again.'

Moneymaking

Writing off such a period is one thing, publishing is another. Why do you choose to do so?

'Well, I also have money-making instincts. Even if it's about my life and about difficult things, that I've written something beautiful, I want to damn well show it too. Because this is the only thing I am good at. Of course my children have been saddened by the divorce, but life is about scarring. It is an illusion to think that you can raise your children in complete safety and security. I do realise that my children need to know at all times that I love them. Even when I am angry, strict or gruff. I am not a very good, patient father; I am easily irritated and short-tempered and often react unreasonably. But I do always let them know that I love them very much.'

But your two sons probably don't want to know about their father's sexual escapades.

'That's true, but then they were unlucky: their father is a writer, and yes, that sucks. That's the burden they have to bear. I'm sure when they're in their early twenties I'll still be told how shitty that was. But I think: let them see the ugly sides too; I want to teach them that we are all just messing around and that life is not easy for anyone.'

Caged creature

 You call yourself a caged creature. Are you still?

'Yes, if you start poking around too much, I panic. I find emotions very difficult anyway, yes. My core may not be seen. Then you see total powerlessness, and that makes me feel very ashamed. That core is too vulnerable, so I can't afford to show it. The inherent turmoil is also still there. Always. I am always restless and nervous, especially when other people are involved. I don't know what it's like to be completely relaxed, even when I'm sitting by myself on the sofa watching a film.'

Alone-ness

Did the divorce finally bring you what you were looking for?

'I find that irrelevant. The situation I was in was no longer tenable and I wanted out of that. The situation I'm in now, I can't get out of that even if I wanted to. I can be dissatisfied with this, but this is what I have to make do with, even if it is sometimes lonely. I have no other options. And in a way, that's fine. By now, I am better at being alone. Being alone is amazingly difficult, for a lot of people I think. Many people numb themselves, gaming or blowing or seeking social contact on their smartphones all the time. Or stay in a relationship that no longer works.'

Haven't you, now that you've crawled out of your cocoon, felt that you...

'Being a butterfly? Ha ha, no. Well... a lopsided flying, brown butterfly with a snapped antenna. Yes, it is.'

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Messages from the halfway house by Henk van Straten was published on 27 March by Nijgh & Van Ditmar, €19.99