How Weddings Ended My Marriage

Someone hand me an Oscar, because the performances I gave when clients told me “your husband is so lucky” deserved awards.

After 10 years as a wedding planner and 15 years of marriage, I finally understood what I’d been missing. And ironically, it was weddings—hundreds of them—that showed me.

The House Built on Sand

My marriage wasn’t dramatically bad, in fact, I often felt like “one of the lucky ones” because my husband was faithful and self sufficient. There was no betrayal, no singular moment that broke us. It was something quieter and more insidious: we were functional but failing. We looked fine from the outside, but the truth was that our foundation was so weak that a good gust of wind could take it down.

You can’t recognize what’s missing when you don’t know it exists. And I genuinely didn’t know. We weren’t terrible people; we were just terrible together. But it took me until my late thirties to understand that distinction, and even longer to believe I deserved better.

Love Lessons from Television

I didn’t grow up with healthy examples of love. My reference library for partnership consisted almost entirely of television romance—dramatic, passionate, but rarely showing the day-to-day reality of what actual partnership looks like. I learned the wedding script perfectly. I never learned the marriage one.

I entered my marriage with no blueprint for what respect in conflict should look like, how compromise could feel collaborative instead of like defeat, what being genuinely cherished meant, or how healthy couples repair after disagreements. The “happily ever after” myth meant the credits rolled before I saw what came next.

So when I said “I do,” I had no point of reference for what I should actually expect once we did.

The Accidental Education

But where do weddings come into play in my marriage’s downfall?

As a wedding planner, you see every side of the planning process. From inspiration to execution, you witness couples navigate decisions, conflict, excitement, anxiety, joy, and exhaustion. You see their families experience these emotions during the planning process, and then their guests experience them on the wedding weekend too. Wanna spot a couple deeply in love at a wedding, look for the ones who glance at each other or reach for each other during speeches. There’s your smitten kittens.

I didn’t realize it at first, but I was enrolled in an intensive course on what healthy partnership actually looks like.

Weekend after weekend, meeting after meeting, there it was: the example.

I watched how couples handled decisions together—discussion, not decree. I saw how they navigated conflict, with the healthy ones actually listening, validating each other’s feelings, not talking over one another. I witnessed partners who checked in with each other’s comfort levels, who defended each other kindly to demanding family members, who made space for each other’s ideas and celebrated each other’s contributions.

I learned how to be loved—actively, intentionally, consistently. How to be respected in conflict. How to compromise without feeling like the loser, because when you’re actually a team, you’re both winning together.

The patterns became impossible to ignore. I saw what “team” actually looks like in practice. I watched the small gestures of thoughtfulness that weren’t performative. I witnessed couples who genuinely enjoyed each other’s company, who showed up for each other under pressure, who treated each other like their favorite person.

The Intoxicating Gift My Couples Gave Me

Humble brag: my couples shower me with love and trust. It’s intoxicating. In many ways, weddings were my affair. Filling in the gaps I had been missing in my personal life. For the first time, consistently, I was seen. Valued. My expertise, acknowledged. My judgement, unquestioned. My time and energy honored.

And then, occasionally, they’d say things like, “Your husband is so lucky!” or “You and your husband must have the best time together.”

Cue the Academy Award-worthy performance.

Because the truth was: he did not feel lucky. He did not have a good time with me.

(A necessary disclaimer: I’m not sharing this to paint my ex-husband as a terrible person. He’s not. We were just terrible together, and I didn’t know I deserved better until I was in my late thirties. We have an amazing daughter together, and she has approved me sharing this story.)

Every wedding became a mirror I couldn’t look away from. Every healthy couple interaction was a reminder that love could look different. Should look different. The dissonance between helping create beautiful partnerships while mine crumbled became unbearable.

You can’t miss what you’ve never seen. But once you’ve seen it 50 times, 100 times, 200 times… the examples accumulate until they become undeniable.

What “Better” Actually Meant

I didn’t want dramatic television romance or grand gestures. I wanted what I saw my couples have:

Being someone’s priority, not their afterthought. Conflict that leads to resolution, not resentment. Compromise that feels collaborative, not like defeat. Partnership that energizes instead of depletes. Being with someone who actually enjoys spending time with you. Feeling valued for who you are, not tolerated despite it.

The professional success versus personal void became impossible to ignore. I was thriving in my career—trusted, valued, successful. But wilting in my marriage—unseen, unappreciated, disconnected.

If my clients could see my value, why couldn’t I expect the same from the man I married?

I won’t get into the messy details of the ending. It happened. We kept it civil. Our daughter is loved and cherished.

Fast Forward…

I made 2025 the year I renewed my love of exploration—of my larger community and of myself. I dubbed it the year I showed up and showed off.

I challenged myself by touring properties I’d wanted to work at and revisiting ones I’d already worked at. I planned my first international wedding in Ireland. I attended my first national educational conference. I networked constantly and worked under and on behalf of three other planners for the first time in my career.

All of this happened while still healing from separating from my husband of 15 years.

I’ve done so much work to become a better, more centered professional, mother, and partner to my boyfriend. I have never been more confident in my ability as a wedding planner—in my ability to see future issues in logistics and to translate and problem-solve as we produce weddings of any size.

Because I’m no longer performing in my personal life, all that energy is now available for my work, my daughter, and my growth.

The Lessons That Saved Me

After 15 years of marriage and 10 years of planning weddings, here’s what I finally learned:

Observation is education. Pay attention to what healthy looks like, even when you’re seeing it in other people’s lives. Turn the observation onto yourself and ask is this my reflection?

Patterns matter. When you see the same dynamic repeatedly—whether healthy or unhealthy—believe it. We are our actions.

You can’t create for others what you don’t have yourself. Eventually, the dissonance becomes unbearable. Authenticity can be terrifying but once you’re living it, well, that’s a beautiful life.

Love should feel good. Not just in moments, but in the mundane day-to-day.

Partnership means team. Not competitor, not roommate, not burden.

Endings can be beginnings. Sometimes the bravest thing is walking away.

What I Tell My Couples Now

I wish someone had told me to pay attention to how we handled conflict together. To notice if we felt like a team or like opponents. To check in regularly: Do you enjoy each other’s company without an agenda? To ask myself honestly: Does this person make me feel more like myself or less?

Love is not enough without respect, compatibility, and genuine partnership.

The way you plan your wedding will likely mirror how you’ll navigate your marriage. If it feels hard now, it won’t magically get easier after “I do.” But it does set the bar for where both of you set your expectations. Choose now how high you set it for each other.

The Gift in the Grief

Here’s the irony worth noting: weddings ended my marriage, but weddings also saved me.

They showed me what I was missing. They gave me the education I never received growing up. They provided the examples I needed to finally understand that what I had wasn’t what love should feel like.

I’m not angry. I’m not bitter. I’m grateful.

Grateful for the couples who unknowingly taught me what love looks like. Grateful for the career that became my education. Grateful for the clarity that came, even if it came late. Grateful for the courage to choose better, even when it was hard.

Where I am now: separated, healing, rebuilding. A mother who models difficult choices made for good reasons. A professional at the top of her game. A partner who finally understands what partnership means. A woman who knows what she deserves and gets it.

If This Resonates With You

You’re not crazy for feeling unsatisfied. You’re not selfish for wanting more. You don’t need to have a “good reason” to leave something that’s not working. “Not terrible” is not the same as “good enough.”

You deserve to feel valued, respected, and genuinely enjoyed.

Ten years of planning weddings. Fifteen years of marriage. Thirty-something years to finally understand what I deserved.

Better late than never.

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To my couples and their families, past and present: Thank you for letting me into your stories. Thank you for showing me what’s possible. Thank you for teaching me, even when you didn’t know you were.

To my daughter: I want you to know again how proud I am to be your mom.

To my ex: We gave it everything we had. Some things just aren’t meant to last, and that’s okay. Thank you for our daughter and for eventually understanding that letting go was kindness.

To anyone reading this who needed permission: You have it. Choose yourself. Choose better. It’s never too late.