Marriage: What if Failure Was About Death, Not Divorce

I think we've got it backwards.

I really do.

We talk about marriages that "succeed" and marriages that "fail."

And this so-called success and failure gets measured by a signed document stored in the courts.

But what if the real failure wasn't the end of one chapter of our story... the completion of one of the many stories we write on the pages of our lives....

What if the real failure was enduring the slow death, the loss of passion, the loss of ourselves and the loss of love, within a dead relationship, one agonizing day at a time?

Remember, marriage and relationship are two different concepts entirely. Marriage is merely a container. A container designed for the relationship, the gold, to be found within.

I want to share a very vulnerable part of my story with you.

And I gently walk into this space, and take off my shoes, for this  is holy ground.

June of 2021. It was 6 AM. I prayed the garage door would open quietly. I was on my way out before he awoke.

Three months.

I was gone three months.

Lawyers were called. Plans were laid. Teary-eyed prayers rose.

And so the battle began.

But it wasn't the battle to end the marriage. It wasn't the battle to prove to the world that my lover was a loser.

It was the battle for love.

For love that had a flame. A spark. An ember.

For a love worth fighting for.

And here's the mic drop:

The healthiest, most courageous gift I ever brought into my marriage was my radical acceptance of the possibility of divorce.

Because it gave me courage. It gave me courage to rise. To find my voice. To fight. To fight for my life and to fight for our love.

Rising is risky, you see. Better to stay small. To keep the peace. To endure one more day of the agonizing numb.

Rising will trigger wrath. The war. The rage.

But what if the war... what if the war was a holy war?

The fight against death. The fight for life. The fight for love.

What if courage wasn't about a relentless commitment to staying in a dead marriage...

But a zealous commitment to love? To life? To flourishing?

What if we found the courage to commit to that path, wherever it took us, whether in relationship with another or whether it be in deeper relationship with our own selves?

Perhaps there's something else we misunderstand.

It seems we misunderstand the nature of endings.

When perceived correctly, every "ending" is merely a transition—a shifting from one season, and the "beginning" of something new.

Where has the flame grown dim in your life? What would it feel like to rise, to breathe, to feel the spark, the fury and the flame...

... and awake to your passion within?