I Sometimes Hate Myself for the Way I Started My Marriage

I sometimes hate myself for the way I started my marriage.

I look at the picture above and I see a kid who had no idea what it meant to be a husband.

No thought given to the responsibility.

No understanding of what it means to honor someone other than himself.

Just a young man doing what felt good, assuming life would keep feeling good on its own.

I’d been dating Angie for four years when I proposed.

No one had ever made me feel the way she did. I was at ease around her — comfortable to be myself. She believed in me.

The relationship felt good for me.

And marriage seemed like the next logical step — something you’re supposed to do.

So I proposed.

But only on the basis of how she made me feel.

I never considered her needs.
I never considered my responsibilities to her.
I never considered the future.

I didn’t understand that a relationship was a two way street.

Somewhere between getting engaged and getting married, I quit my job to start a training business.

In other words, I began my season as a provider with no stable income.

Look, I can’t exactly say I regret it — entrepreneurship has shaped me more than any other endeavor.

But looking back, it was also a reflection of how I approached life at the time:

chasing meaning, without yet understanding responsibility.

I can’t rewrite that version of me.
But I can do two things with him:

1. Accept him.

2. Learn from him.

And those lessons have become something of a framework for how I think about a meaningful life.

The Three Questions That Define a Life of Meaning

As men, we’re constantly asked to provide, to produce, to lead.
But beneath all that, I’ve found that a meaningful life can be measured by three questions:

1. Was I a good person?

2. Did I contribute something meaningful?

3. Who did I love, and who loved me?

Each one represents a relationship — with yourself, with the world, and with others.

When those relationships are aligned, life feels coherent.
When they’re not, life feels fractured.

Relationship With Yourself — “Was I a Good Person?”

This is where it all starts.

Figure your own shit out first.

Know who you are. What you value. What you stand for.

This isn’t about being perfect — it’s about being honest.

If you don’t have a solid relationship with yourself, every other relationship will feel unstable.

Relationship With the World — “Did I Contribute Something Meaningful?”

Once you know who you are, you have to put that identity into motion.

Walk your path.
Do the work.
Get feedback from the world.

You don’t have to have “made it” — but you do need traction toward something meaningful.

Contribution gives your identity purpose.

It’s how you prove that your values matter outside your own head.

Relationship With Others — “Who Did I Love, and Who Loved Me?”

When your relationship with yourself is grounded,
and your relationship with the world is active,
you can finally show up fully for others.

That’s when love — real love rooted in service — becomes possible.

Not the kind that’s rooted in need or validation,
but the kind that grows from shared respect and understanding.

The Cycle Never Ends

Here’s the part I wish I understood earlier: this isn’t a straight line.

It’s a cycle.

As we grow and change, we’re called to refine each of these relationships again and again.

We evolve, and need to redefine and reshape our identities.

We need to recalibrate our direction in the world.

We can then communicate those changes to the people we love.

And if we do it well, each cycle makes our lives — and our relationships — a little more meaningful.

Closing Thought

Meaning isn’t something you find once and hold onto forever.

It’s something you build — and rebuild — through these three relationships.

You face yourself honestly.
You contribute something that matters.
You love deeply, and let yourself be loved in return.

Then life gets messy, you change, and the process starts all over again.

That’s not failure.
That’s growth.
That’s what makes life mean something.

Much Love,