Rethinking Marital Failure

“I beg your pardon; I have had three marriages, and none of them was a failure.” These were the words of anthropologist Margaret Mead when asked to comment on why all her marriages had failed. I first came across this statement while on a walk, listening to Kathrine Woodward Thomas’ Conscious Uncoupling. I stopped in my tracks and hit the rewind button. I’d heard it clearly the first time, but I needed to make sure I truly understood what I’d just heard.

Her words resonated deeply. I thought about my own first marriage—I dos exchanged at 23 years old, only to find myself in divorce court just nine months later. No amount of therapy could convince me to stay in a marriage that appeared perfect on the outside but was filled with alcohol, abuse, and regret on the inside. The red flags I ignored while dating quickly turned into blazing alarms. I was on a sinking ship, and the only life vest was divorce.

Fast forward ten years, and I now work as both a divorce mediator and a marriage and family therapist. It’s these roles that have given me a clearer understanding of exactly what Margaret Mead was talking about. She explained that each of her marriages occurred during different developmental stages in her life. When I look back on the short-lived marriage of my youth, I can do so now with grace—towards myself and towards my former partner. I left that marriage feeling broken, but with a sense of purpose. I left feeling confused, but with the clarity that I deserved more than I had settled for. I forgave him, and I forgave myself.

Surviving the grief that comes with the loss of a marriage—that’s the success. It’s a quiet victory, one marked by humility and wisdom rather than loud celebrations.

I now believe the only failed marriage is the one that leaves you unable to love again. Marriages don’t fail; people fail to see the lessons hidden within them. And in those lessons lie the true success.

If you're on your own journey of healing following a relationship that has ended or is ending, I'd like to encourage you that rough endings often lead to beautiful beginnings.

All the best to you!

Sincerely,

Sileta Bell