The Day Lauren Left

I will never forget the feeling of fear as I drove home. I knew something was wrong and I knew she was gone… they were all gone.

Lauren and I had been going through struggles, a lot of struggles. Not just recently — for years. We had separated once before and reconciled. Over the last few months she had continuously told me that she "couldn't live this way anymore" and that something had to change. As she left work that day (we worked together), she reminded me again. It would be the last thing she ever said to me while we were "a couple," and it's etched into my soul.

When something traumatic happens, you reflect over and over and over again on what happened, your actions, their actions, the moment you knew something was wrong, and a million other "blips" of memories… and I'm no different.

Here's what I remember…

I tried to call her like I normally do on the way home from work. No answer. I waited a bit and tried again. No answer. Again, again and again I tried — with no answer. I began to panic. Something felt wrong. I called Andrew, my 10-year-old who always answers me — no answer. Nicholas, my 16-year-old — no answer. I went to Life360 to check for locations… all of their locations had been deactivated.

At that moment, I became aware that my life would be forever changed. I just didn't know how, or how much — yet.

I called and panicked and called and panicked. I finally tracked them down at Lauren's sister's house and called her. She answered and told me Lauren wasn't there. My response: don't lie to me, put her on the phone. She responded with, "I'll have her call you."

Moments later, the phone rang. A mixture of excitement, relief and fear overcame me in an instant, and I answered with, "Are you okay?" She said yes. Then I got angry.

"Why is your location off? Why didn't you answer? When will you be home? Why are you doing this? What's going on? How are the kids? Where are the kids? What are you doing? When will you be home again?"

I'm sure they all came out back to back to back, without me letting her speak or even taking a breath.

Her response: "I told you I wasn't going to live like this anymore." My lungs stopped working for a minute. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't cry. I couldn't do… anything. I was frozen.

The minutes that passed while I pleaded for her to come home felt like hours. But it was not to be.

Why am I sharing this?

Because there is a lesson in everything. When you are in pain, the most absurd and terrible thoughts will run through your mind. The coulda, shoulda, woulda thoughts flood you. The words time heals all wounds are true. The saying that hindsight is 20/20 is also true.

And when you are an influencer of people, it's your responsibility to share your lessons — to help others avoid your pain.

Here is my lesson. I look back and know this to be true: I couldn't have tried any harder. And I know this truth as well — she couldn't have tried any harder.

So why didn't it work? Because we could not figure out how to communicate just how hard we were both trying. It wasn't that we didn't try. It's that we refused to hear one another.

And that's the travesty of it all. Did we love each other? We did. Did we try? We did. Where we broke down is in the plain language of the words I so often say and teach: it doesn't matter what you say, it only matters what they hear. And we didn't hear each other. That's the challenge of any relationship, and of people in general. We need to communicate effectively — and we need to be even more effective at listening.

Letting Go

When none of that works, you need to let go. We gave it our best. We loved with all we had until the love was gone. And now, we must let go — because if you don't let go, it will consume you.

In the months that followed, we took different paths. We created new lives and we learned how to be alone. Some things are great in my life and some things are great in hers. Some could always be better, but I truly believe you cannot regret what you cannot change. So… I have zero regrets.

I do have some parting words for anyone who reads this. It's about accountability and reconciliation. The failure of my marriage was my fault. You know why? Because if I blamed her, I could never let go of the pain that haunted me for so long. Therefore, it's all my fault. Could she have saved it? Maybe. Did I want it to end? No. Did I try to fix it? Yes — but I couldn't.

I forgive us both.

I have come to terms with it, and I have allowed myself to move forward. I have traveled the world and launched several new businesses. I have met amazing people. And Lauren is an amazing person who will conquer her own life and climb many mountains. I want that for her, and for me. If I held on and blamed, I couldn't be cheering for her from the sidelines — and I am.

Cheer for everyone you once loved. Cheer for everyone you still love. Cheer for your friends. Cheer for your enemies. What they do — that is on them. If you want to live your best life, you can have no regrets, and you can blame no one.

Accept your failures.

Embrace your defeats.

Forgive everyone.

And then — go kick ass.