This weekend, John and I celebrated 25 years of marriage. That sentence still feels wild to say. Twenty-five years of showing up. Of staying. Of becoming.
We celebrated with intention. A night out for dinner. A long, slow day at Glen Ivy. On our actual anniversary, a show at the Pantages and another dinner—just the two of us, making time to reflect, to connect, to remember why we said yes in the first place.
We laughed. We had deep conversations and light ones. And we talked honestly about what it’s taken to still be here. Still together. Still choosing each other.
Because it hasn’t all been easy.
We’ve had seasons where we didn’t like each other—where we weren’t even sure we liked ourselves. We’ve walked through grief, financial struggle, career shifts, parenting challenges, faith questions, and identity crises.
We’ve been tired.
We’ve gotten lost.
We’ve both had moments where leaving seemed easier than staying.
But we stayed. And we’re better for it.
My grandfather, who was married for over 60 years, used to say, “The secret is simple—keep loving each other.” But I’d change that now.
The real secret isn’t love.
It’s choosing.
Choosing to work on yourself.
Choosing to be uncomfortable.
Choosing to keep growing.
Choosing to pray when you don’t feel like it.
Choosing to stay curious instead of shutting down.
Choosing to come back to the table—again and again.
Because love doesn’t hold without intention.
And it’s not your partner’s job to make you whole.
I’ve had to take responsibility for my happiness. My healing. My direction. So has John. It’s not always clean or easy, but it’s necessary.
We both have friends.
Hobbies.
Faith.
Therapy when we need it.
We work hard, we dream big, and we’re each doing the personal work it takes to keep showing up as full human beings—not just spouses. Because the better we are individually, the better we are together.
John’s grandmother once told us, “Two horses can pull the carriage better than one.” And she was right. We carry this life together. We share the load. And we root for each other, fully.
Our grandparents knew something: Love is beautiful, but it isn’t static. You have to move with it. You have to choose it. Especially when it’s hard.
So let me ask you something.
Where have you stopped choosing?
Is there a part of your life—your marriage, your career, your relationship with yourself or with God—where you’ve gone quiet? Where you’ve become passive? Where you’re waiting for someone or something else to change?
What needs your active choice right now?
Maybe it’s choosing to stop pretending everything’s fine.
Maybe it’s choosing to get real support.
Maybe it’s choosing to take yourself seriously again—your growth, your voice, your vision.
Maybe it’s choosing to stop expecting someone else to fix it, and stepping into your own power to do what’s yours to do.
Don’t wait for the perfect moment. Don’t wait to feel ready.
Choose now.
That’s how things change. That’s how marriages survive. That’s how legacies are built. That’s how lives are transformed—choice by choice, day by day.
If you’ve been feeling stagnant or disconnected, and you’re ready to get honest about where you’ve stopped choosing, let’s talk.
I help women clarify what matters, find their way back to themselves, and take bold, aligned steps forward.
You don’t have to do this alone.
Click here to schedule a 30-minute conversation with me.
With love,
Gretchen
