Lately, marriage has come up more and more in our conversations. We’re still feeling it out, playing with the idea, testing what the other person—and ourselves—really think about tying our lives together forever. There are many things that fill us both with warmth: we want to grow old together, to feel we can count on each other in everything, and to know that the other is just as committed as we are. I’m excited about this possibility—even though I’ve already been through a marriage.
I Still Believe in Marriage
It might surprise some that even after a divorce, I still believe in marriage. I haven’t turned my back on it, become cynical, or decided that "I tried once, and it didn’t work."
I get that doubt. When I first stood at the altar, I spoke those words sincerely and wholeheartedly. I truly believed in them then. But life, choices, and mistakes slowly drained their meaning until they felt empty. How could I now believe it will be different? That I’ll "mean it more" this time—when I was sure back then I couldn’t be more serious.
Still, I believe I would choose more wisely today. Because now I know what it’s like when something doesn’t work. I’ve lived through a relationship that started beautifully but gradually lost its way. My first, failed marriage isn’t proof that marriage is pointless—it’s proof that I wasn’t where I am now. I didn’t fully understand what I needed, what to expect from a partner, or what I had to give to make a relationship not just survive, but bring joy to everyone involved.
I believe our failures don’t erase us—they shape us.
We learn from what didn’t work. Divorce doesn’t have to mean losing faith; it can mean rethinking it. Today, I’m clearer about my boundaries, what I say yes to, and what I say no to. I know how vital communication and honesty are, and that love alone isn’t enough—we need to truly understand each other.
I also believe that just because we’ve made mistakes before, we can still find true love. That it’s possible to trust again—both others and ourselves. That the wounds we carry can be obstacles or strengths, if we’re willing to work with them. A second marriage isn’t a replay of the first. It’s a whole new story, with different players, new rules, and more awareness.
That’s why I still believe in marriage. Mostly because I want to believe. I don’t want to live in a world without love that lasts a lifetime. Where every relationship feels temporary, every promise is put on hold, and every commitment hides a backup plan. I refuse to believe deep connection is just an illusion, self-deception, or romantic exaggeration.
I believe two people can truly find each other. That they can choose again and again to pick each other—not because it’s easy, but because it matters. The all-consuming love, the bond, the true companionship are among the few precious feelings that make being human on this earth worthwhile. And if I risked it once, I’ll risk it again.
My heart might break—but at least it will never turn to stone.
