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The way I do this is simple: I make two lists...The first list matters because it reminds me that the relationship was not a total waste...The second list is...That’s where I mine the gold...The point is to learn from it, so I’m more likely to create the outcome I want next time—and less likely to repeat what hurt me...
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My mentor reminded me right away to put my attention, effort, and focus on my purpose—my mission.
In the past, he would say things like, “Up your spiritual practice.” But for me, purpose is the highest spiritual practice. Mission is spiritual practice. Calling is spiritual practice.
The reason it helps me—and the reason it’s helping me now—is this:
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My second marriage became deeply dysfunctional.
Day-to-day life was filled with disconnection, anger, and unmet needs. It felt toxic. Every day carried a sense of tension—like I never knew when the next conflict would erupt. Peace was rare.
Whenever a need came up—mine or hers—any attempt to express it would immediately turn into conflict. One of the last relationship counselors we saw described our dynamic perfectly: “continuous rebuttal.”
No matter what one of us said, the response was always: “Yeah, but…”
There was no listening. No reflection. No attempt to understand. Just immediate opposition.
There was no safety.
There were nights I slept on the couch—and even that didn’t feel safe. Eventually, I started sleeping in the garage, where I could lock the door. Sometimes I slept in my car.
That’s how bad it got.
By the end, I couldn’t wait to get out. I didn’t care where I went—I just knew I couldn’t spend another day in that environment.
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In two of my relationships, I experienced unwanted breakups. Both were devastating to my self-esteem, my sense of worth, and my feeling of being lovable.
All the stories came rushing in: I’m not good enough. I must not be lovable. Something must be wrong with me. I must be flawed, broken, damaged.
And when it happens more than once, those stories get louder.
Then you add in all the other relationships that didn’t work out—the ones where I “picked the wrong person,” or things just fell apart—and it all stacks together. On top of that, you layer childhood experiences, and suddenly it becomes a heavy, persistent internal dialogue.
I’m not good enough. No one could love me. No one would want this.
Sometimes those messages were even reinforced directly in relationships: “No woman could accept this.” “You’re not giving what a woman needs.” “You don’t have what it takes.”
Whether spoken outright or implied, it lands hard.
Because it’s not like I wasn’t trying. I was giving my best effort. And when your best effort still ends in rejection—sometimes painfully, even with betrayal—it cuts deep. It feels like a knife to the chest.
So the real question becomes...
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After my first wife put on her shoes, said she couldn’t do this anymore, and then literally walked out of my life—out of the house, gone for good—I was devastated. I felt horrible. I was heartbroken, shattered, and desperate. All I knew was that I needed help.
The first thing I did was send an email to a handful of my closest friends—maybe four or five of them. I said, “I’m devastated. I’m depressed. I’m desperate. I’ve been crying every day. I’m miserable. I don’t know what to do. I just need help.”
One of my friends wrote back and said, “Hey, I know this guy. He’s eccentric, but he’s a caring dude.”
That was all I needed to hear.
Up until then, the advice I’d heard from friends sounded terrible. It felt like they didn’t know what they were doing. I was in such a state of desperation. I didn’t know how I had gotten myself into this mess. I had no clue what to do next, or how to keep it from happening again in the future. I wanted someone who knew what they were doing—someone who had been in my shoes and made it through.
So I called the guy right away. He said, “I can fit you in in about a week.”
I said, “Do you have anything sooner? Like… tomorrow?”
And he did.
I went, and I remember thinking, Oh my God, did I make a mistake? Who is this guy? Eccentric was definitely the word. He was so far outside my comfort zone. And yet I went. I sat there. He mostly just listened. He asked me a few questions, but mostly he listened.
And from the way he listened—and from a few of the things he said—I knew he had been in my shoes before, and that he had gotten through it. That was enough for me...
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Chapter 5: Mine the Gold, Learn the Lessons
