But beneath the surface, I sensed cracks in the foundation. I started having stomach aches and struggling to sleep at night. There were things going on that weren’t as glorious or solid as I wanted or needed them to be. Yet, I tried to hold it all together with some spiritual duct tape. I stepped over things that didn’t align with me, especially in working with my publishing team. Missed meetings, unfulfilled promises, and poor communication—none of it was working for me, but I stepped over it anyway. I complained to my wife about my frustrations and then jumped on Zoom calls, all smiles. Have you ever done that?

I feel level 10 discomfort around conflict and confrontation. I’ll do just about anything to avoid giving someone hard feedback. I’m terrified they’ll disengage from me—basically, I’m afraid of them leaving me. So yes, I have abandonment stuff, and for me, it’s tangled up with speaking my truth. As a kid, I didn’t do it often. I played the peacemaker, the roll-with-the-flow middle child. I’d much rather be uncomfortable than make someone else uncomfortable. And yet, how can I write a book about courage and authenticity and still try to step around this? I felt like a fraud. My wife stepped up and had the hard conversation for me, and that sent me into a tailspin.

I’m not just navigating my career or creative dreams. My marriage, too, is part of this messy, raw, and often gut-wrenching journey. Kelly and I have been so raw with each other lately. It’s been incredibly difficult to find a rhythm, and I feel embarrassment and a bit of shame about this. Here I am, recently out and not even married a year. This is supposed to be the honeymoon phase, right? Yet, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve been challenged to open up in the most profound and vulnerable ways.

I used to think success meant knowing who I am, but my wife shows me more than anyone who I truly am. And let me tell you, the shift from who I think I am to who I actually am is fucking painful. When I find myself in a world I don’t recognize, realizing I’ve been operating out of fear, I feel humbled, disoriented, and shaken. Yet, this is what I want more than anything. I just didn’t realize marriage would be the spiritual gift that would transform me more than anything else.

Can anyone relate? Are you shocked by the reality of “happily ever after”? Do you see conflict as bad? What if conflict and fierce conversations are actually the relationship? If that isn’t an ass-kicker, I don’t know what is. I thought finding your person was the magic. I thought it was all hearts and roses… I didn’t realize this is where I’d immerse myself in the mess—the mess of me, the mess of becoming the fullest version of myself.