Redefining Failure
When I first left, I was heartbroken. Completely gutted. More than anything, I felt ashamed, like I had failed. Failed my husband. Failed my children. Failed the vision of the family I had worked so hard to build. Because I was the one who walked away. I pulled the trigger.
When I got married, I never expected perfection, neither from him nor from myself. That became my silent mantra: I’m not perfect, so how can I expect him to be?
That mindset gave us both room for grace. I extended to him the compassion I desperately hoped to receive in return.
But grace started to look a lot like excuse-making. I didn’t label the behavior as abusive. The cruel words, emotional manipulation, financial recklessness, I told myself it wasn’t that bad. They’re just words, he reminded me. There were no bruises, no broken bones.
So the idea of breaking up my family felt dramatic. Selfish, even. Still, I knew something wasn’t right.
I had no clear answers; only a deep ache. I tried everything to “fix” us: therapy, walking on eggshells, being more agreeable, more intimate. Nothing changed.
And for the first time in my life, I truly felt like I had failed, which was hard to reconcile. I had survived a painful childhood, earned a bachelor’s and a master’s degree, built a strong corporate career with great pay and benefits. On paper, I was doing everything “right.”
But there’s no road map for how to succeed in a marriage where your needs go unmet and your pain is ignored. No checklist for surviving emotional abuse wrapped in charm and manipulation.
Over the past year and a half, I have cried more than I ever thought possible. I’ve faced heartbreak and hardship in ways I never imagined. Yet, despite it all, I wouldn’t take it back.
Because now, I can finally say this out loud: I failed at marriage.
But that doesn’t mean I am a failure. I was unequipped to thrive in that kind of environment.
Failure isn’t always the end. Sometimes, it’s the beginning. There are lessons in the breaking. Wisdom in the unraveling. And I’m committed to finding all of it.
One day, I hope to look back not with bitterness, but with clarity and gratitude for what those years taught me.
Journal Prompt
Where in your life have you labeled yourself a failure?
What lesson might actually be hidden in that experience?
What beliefs about success, relationships, or self-worth are you ready to rewrite?
