Tom Arnold on Turning Divorce Drama into Raw Comedy (Exclusive)

Divorce and child custody battles aren’t exactly ordinary fodder for comedy — but then again, Tom Arnold has never been an ordinary standup comedian.

Following an extraordinarily turbulent split from his ex-wife Ashley Groussman — a period marked by police visits, court appearances and complicated co-parenting logistics — the 66-year-old actor found himself needing a way to process the chaos. Ultimately, he found his outlet onstage in a new comedy tour entitled My Crazy Ex-Wife. 

“Three years ago I started going out three or four times a week to The Improv and the Comedy Store,” he tells PEOPLE. “I really wanted to talk about what was really going on in my life, because of all the police [incidents] and the court. There’s a bunch of public stuff out there which is bad.”

In recent years, Arnold and Groussman cycled through restraining-order filings and high-conflict custody disputes — a whirlpool of public headlines that threatened not just his privacy, but also his children’s stability. The turmoil followed his February 2019 decision to file for divorce after 10 years of marriage, setting off years of legal back-and-forth. (According to court documents obtained by PEOPLE, a judge dismissed the domestic violence accusations against him without any finding of wrongdoing earlier this year.)

For Arnold, turning personal disaster into shared laughter isn’t just part of the job — it’s how he’s weathered some of the most painful chapters of his life, including the end of his famously tempestuous first marriage to sitcom star Roseanne Barr in the early ’90s. But these days, the material doesn’t just revolve around him — it’s shaped by his life with his kids: Jax, 12, and Quinn, 10.

When Arnold headed out for his first real tour since before COVID, he promised himself he’d never be away from his children for too long — at least when their schooling would allow. 

“My kids come on the road to help me,” he says. “Especially my son, because I hurt my back. I have spinal stenosis. I think it may be an old person thing where your spine closes around your nerves. It’s very annoying.”

Watching his son take to life on the road has become its own source of joy.

“I’m so proud of my son. He’s in sixth grade and very smart. I’d look over at the side of the stage and he’d be sitting there watching and afterwards he’d say, ‘I have notes. You forgot this one joke.’ I’m like, ‘Thank you, son.’”

Arnold is unflinchingly honest about the fact that his children have grown up around conflict. “My kids both want to be cops because they have seen so many police,” he maintains. “From the time they were very young, they’ve seen a lot of this stuff.”

He’s grateful, in a way, that there are no illusions. “My kids have never seen their mom and I hug or have any kind of thing like that,” he says. “Which is actually better in a lot of ways, because some families have divorces and the kids have idealized, romanticized what that life was like when mom was sitting over there. Dad’s sitting over there and it makes it harder.”

His own traumatic childhood — documented in his sister Lori’s 2021 docuseries Queen of Meth — went a long way in informing how he handles things now. 

“You know, I had a crazy mother who left our family when I was four,” he says. “My little sister was the biggest drug dealer in America. And I blame my mom ’cause she made her get married at 14 to do all this stuff. My dad never said anything when my mom would show up at the house drunk and do insane stuff and knock down a Christmas tree. He would just laugh. I knew she wasn’t a mother. Like, who is this woman that comes over once every three months and does this stuff?”

That family history — the silence, the denial — gave Arnold a mantra for his own household. “Today, when something really inappropriate happens in front of kids, I’ll go, ‘Okay, that wasn’t okay. I don’t treat people like that. I don’t want you to treat people like that.’”

Despite the financial strain — and a long commute — fatherhood brings its own rewards.

“We drive 70 minutes to school every day,” he says. “One day we’ll be able to afford to rent a house closer to the school. That’s always our goal. But it’s great. The kids don’t complain. I certainly get a lot out of it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

The most important thing, he says, is that they’re thriving. “My kids are doing great, we’re very solid,” he says.

And, he adds simply: “I love talking about the kids. It gives me a lot of joy and self-esteem. It’s a great life.”

Amidst the family turmoil, Arnold found himself taking on a new creative challenge: directing his first movie, The Breakup Pill.  

“I’m also acting in it,” he says. “The only reason I directed is because we were supposed to start filming in January at the Pacific Palisades and all of our sets burned down. That horrible fire really affected so many people. It was just an awful situation.”

Production delays led the team to consider postponing the film indefinitely. Arnold offered a solution. “I really needed the money, so I said, ‘If I will direct it, if we can stay on schedule…’ The producers were like, ‘Would you?’”

He’d directed TV before, but a movie felt like a leap. “I was insecure about directing a movie,” he says. “I did it out of necessity and they had a great crew with great people.”

His daughter read the script on her own — and immediately saw an opportunity.

“She said, ‘I think I should be in this movie. There’s a part for me, the flower girl,’” Arnold says. “And then I was looking at it and I went, ‘Okay, you’re in the movie!’”

She thrived on set and ultimately wanted more.

“That night after we filmed the wedding scene, she said, ‘I wanna come back to work with you tomorrow, dad,’” he says. “I go, ‘Well, I don’t think there’s any extras or anything, but I’ll find something.’ She just loved it.”

Seeing his daughter step into the spotlight brought back memories of his own childhood dreams.

“Our dad was a single dad,” Arnold recalls. “And the only time we ever heard him laugh — really laugh hard — was when there was a Bob Hope special on. I said, ‘Whatever Bob Hope does, I’m gonna do, because I’m gonna make dad laugh.’”

One of the earliest milestones of his career brought that dream full circle. “One of the first things I did in Hollywood was a Bob Hope special,” he says. “And Bob Hope called my dad. Oh my God, he was so nice. He signed all this stuff for me.”

The moment was surreal. “So my dad — in the same living room that he used to watch Bob Hope when I was this tall — was now seeing Bob Hope standing next to his son on TV. That’s pretty magical, right? It’s really true that anything is possible.”

He sees that same spark in his own son. “My son is 12 and thinks he’s gonna be in the NBA and the NFL,” Arnold says. “But, you just never know. You never know.”

Despite the chaos, the years of legal battles, the financial strain and the relentless grind of single fatherhood, Arnold refuses to feel sorry for himself.

“I wouldn’t change a thing — ex-wives or anything — ’cause this is where it got me: this great life that I love,” he says. “And I also love the opportunity to work. Because dad needs to work! The people come out to the shows and my shows are very personal. It’s about my journey and getting sober (which is a crooked journey). I always assume, ‘Oh this is so embarrassing, I must be the only guy going through this.’”

But night after night he’s reminded that he’s not.

“People come up to me after the show constantly,” Arnold says. “And it turns out a lot of people have had relationships that were very similar to mine. It’s comforting to know that I am not the only one.”

Sobriety, too, has opened the door to deeper conversations. “People come up and share,” he continues. “A lot of people have gotten sober and they tell me how. Some people want to get sober and we talk about it. I’m honored that they share. People share some incredibly intimate things with me, and I’m very honored.”