Thirty Years of Marriage: The Real Story

Stan and I celebrated 30 years of marriage on April 19.

Thirty years.

It sounds easy… but it’s not.

Ours is a very nontraditional love story. We’re not high school sweethearts. We didn’t know each other for years before getting married. We weren’t even born in the same country or raised speaking the same language. And yes—there’s a noticeable age gap between us.

I know what some might think… recipe for disaster.

Thankfully, it wasn’t.

If anything, all of those differences shaped us into who we are today. When I look back, the words that rise to the surface are: resilience, love, endurance, hope, faith, and determination. Those have always defined how I live, how I love, and how I invest in the people and life I’ve chosen.

I always dreamed of getting married, having a family, raising children—yes, even that “white picket fence” kind of life. I worked hard to build that. Stan did too—but I’ll let him tell his side of the story someday. This one is mine.

The moment we got married, my world shifted completely. I was uprooted from everything I had known—my family, my culture, my sense of familiarity. Stan’s life changed too, of course—but in very different ways. Marriage is a big commitment for both, but the adjustment looked very different for each of us.

Recently, a friend asked me a question that made me pause:

“What are three moments in those 30 years when you thought about throwing in the towel?”

It stopped me in my tracks.

Because the truth is—marriage isn’t all joy, friendship, and beautiful moments. Anyone who says that is either forgetting… or not being honest. Marriage is beautiful, yes—but it is also hard work.

When I really sat with her question, the moments came back to me.

The first time I thought about “throwing in the towel” was within the first month of our marriage.

I found myself completely alone. No family nearby. No close friends. No community. The only person I truly knew was Stan. For someone who had always been surrounded by people, connection, and activity, the silence was overwhelming.

Stan worked long days, and I stayed home. I tried to embrace being a homemaker—and there are parts of that life I still love—but deep down, I knew it wasn’t fully me. I needed connection. I needed purpose beyond the walls of our home.

So instead of running from the life I had chosen, I made a different decision: I stepped into it.

I found a job—in a place that was unfamiliar, in a language I was still learning to fully live in. It wasn’t easy. But it changed everything. I began building community, making friends, and creating a life—not just for myself, but for us. And slowly, that loneliness turned into belonging.

First “throw in the towel” moment… averted.

The second came when our daughters were little.

Those years were intense. I was juggling everything—being a wife, a mother, a homemaker, and working full-time. And again, without family nearby, the weight of it all felt overwhelming.

You’re learning everything at once: how to be a good mother, a supportive wife, a responsible employee, how to run a home, how to show up for everyone… while still trying to hold on to yourself.

I was young—24 when I got married. And while that may not sound that young, it felt young to me for the kind of life I had stepped into.

My grandmother used to say, “Marriage is choosing to commit yourself to someone you don’t even share DNA with—that’s bold.” She was right.

During those years, Stan showed up in a way that mattered deeply. We talked. We adjusted. We found ways to carry the load together. I still remember him saying, more than once, “If quitting your job would help, we’ll figure it out.”

I didn’t take that path—but knowing I could? Knowing he was willing to sacrifice for me and for our family? That was everything.

Second “throw in the towel” moment… passed.

When I tried to think of a third, I couldn’t.

And that surprised me—because we’ve had harder seasons since then. Life has thrown its share of curveballs. But somewhere along the way, something shifted—especially in me.

I grew. I matured. My mindset changed.

We stopped seeing challenges as exit points and started seeing them as something to face together. We communicated more. We worked through things. We held on—even when it wasn’t easy.

Did we have moments of silence? Of frustration? Of “I’m not talking to you today”? Of course.

But love—and the commitment behind it—always brought us back.

We never let go of each other’s hand.

And since “three” seems to be a theme for this anniversary, here are the three things that have carried us through 30 years:

PRAYER

We share the same faith, and prayer has grounded us. Not because we expect answers on demand, but because it gives us strength to keep going.

INSPIRATION

We genuinely admire each other. We recognize each other’s gifts and support one another where we fall short.

LOVE

Not the fleeting kind. The kind that chooses, every day, to stay, to give, to build something meaningful—together.

I am deeply grateful for a life partner who loves me as I am, embraces my flaws, and always hopes for the best in me.

Stan is my biggest cheerleader, my steady support, my partner in everything—and without a doubt, my best friend.

Grateful doesn’t even come close.