A Guide for Younger Generations Overcoming Fear, Anxiety, and Hesitation About Marriage

What did I Learn from my 4-year Marriage?

Shijing Yao
Build Nomadland
10 min readOct 31, 2023

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Marriage presents a lot of challenges in the 21st century. In recent years, there’s been a noticeable shift as people are choosing to delay marriage, moving from their 20s to their 30s, and sometimes even to their 40s. Admittedly, the desire for companionship and security is a natural human instinct, yet the uncertainty of maintaining a successful marriage often leads to fear, anxiety, and hesitation. With numerous myths about marriage, especially among the younger people, I’m going to share some of my thoughts based on my personal experiences.

If you have read my previous blog post, you are probably aware that I used to have a short marriage, spanning almost 4 years. Yes, a divorce occurred, but my perspective on it doesn’t align with that of a desperate man who simply laments his pains. Instead, I view it as a successful four-year of life experience. Out of this marriage, I was blessed with two smart and adorable children I loved. I crafted numerous memories in the early days of the marriage. Even with an early ended marriage, I matured and grew as an individual. While my marriage did face challenges toward the end, it concluded in a reasonably peaceful manner. No courtroom battles, no dramatic disputes in the process. We managed to reach agreements primarily through common sense and adhering to the general guidelines of family laws. Most significantly, we fostered collaboration in parenting and engaging in candid conversations.

Having lived out of marriage happily since then, I’ve always been wondering: would I still get married if I were able to choose again? Scroll to the end of this article if you want to see a straight answer. However, I think it’s worthwhile to have a glimpse of this brief marriage story to resonate with my answers. Although the marriage was only 4 years, it felt like an entire lifetime.

The early days of my marriage held a special charm. From the very beginning, I cherished our relationship, even during our long-distance dating phase. For almost four months, I regularly flew from Berkeley to Los Angeles every weekend to spend time with her. These were the days when we discovered the magic of our connection. She introduced me to David Minkin’s live magician show, an experience that I would never know by myself. In return, I took her to upscale Italian restaurants, places I would never go alone. We explored the wonders of the Griffith Observatory, immersing ourselves in captivating documentaries about the universe projected on the dome. At the Huntington Library, we revelled in the diverse gardens and intricate landscape designs.

Shortly after our marriage, we settled into a quiet 2-bedroom townhouse near Berkeley. During my summer internship at Uber, she prepared cute and delicious dinner every day. She had a passion for tailoring clothes, so I happily drove her to Oakland a few times a week for a local tailor class. Our marriage life was very peaceful, and our first baby was going to arrive soon. We approached parenthood with excitement and dedication. During her pregnancy, we attended training classes to ensure we were well-prepared for the baby’s arrival. After my son was born, we worked hand in hand in raising him. She put in tremendous effort, waking up at night to feed the baby and navigating her own postpartum recovery. I contributed by handling burping, diaper changes, and soothing our baby to sleep. Our lives became busier, and we had less time as a couple, yet we relished every moment. In fact, my coworkers affectionately dubbed me “the family guy” because I headed straight home after work every day, rarely participating in team events at the workplace.

Our marriage life took a downturn when my wife unexpectedly became pregnant again, shortly after our first son turned one year old. While it wasn’t part of our initial plan, we decided to keep the second baby. By that time, my wife had been a dedicated housewife for nearly two years, a role that had gradually consumed her personal time and hobbies. The loss of these outlets left her grappling with the meaning of her life, which translated into a heightened need for control, even over my interactions with my one-year-old son. For instance, she meticulously regulated the amount of salt and oil in my son’s food, measuring them in grams to ensure a healthier diet. However, my son refused to eat it. She then asked me to feed him. I tasted the food myself and the taste was terrible. I requested to add some salt and oil but she declined. Our argument turned into a daily tug of war.

After the birth of our second kid, our lives became even more hectic. In Asian culture, it’s customary for grandparents to provide assistance in such situations, and her parents indeed came to stay with us for several months, hoping to lend a hand. However, the demands of our household quickly overwhelmed them too. In the first month after the arrival of our younger son, I hired two nannies to ease the burden: one to assist my wife and the newborn, and the other to take care of cooking and house chores for the entire family, including my parents-in-law.

Our home had become a complete chaotic scene. Each day was marked by relentless arguments, complaints, noise, and the constant sound of crying. Even our nanny couldn’t help but said, “Hey, there are way too many people in this house!” or “Man, don’t take your parental leave at home any more — go to work!” A close friend, who visited us, pulled me aside and whispered, “Dude, you look pale and exhausted!”

Despite the turmoil, we made valiant efforts to salvage our marriage. We committed to six months of counseling, during which the therapist advised me to communicate more gently and show greater respect, while counseling my wife to relinquish some control. Initially, this approach yielded some improvement. However, as our daily battles persisted, the recipe for reconciliation began to lose its effectiveness.

In the fall of 2018, on our way to a routine pediatric check-up for the kids, my wife and I had a heated argument. While arguing with each other, she abruptly exited the car at a traffic light and vanished, leaving me alone with our two kids in the vehicle. I had no choice but to drive the kids back home, hand them over to their grandparents first, and then return to the streets in search of her. In a moment of panic, I called 911, eventually locating her at the entrance of a restaurant before darkness. My initial anger was eclipsed by an overwhelming sense of sadness, marking the first time I truly questioned: what had brought my once vibrant marriage life into such a desperate state?

Following a few more final fights which I’m going to skip details here, my conviction to preserve our marriage began to waver. I felt that, at the very least, we needed a period of separation to mitigate our constant conflicts and avoid physical violence. When I write these memories today, they still send shivers down my spine.

In November of 2018, we stepped onto the path of separation. As I transitioned into single life during that period, it felt as though I had been granted a breath of fresh air after a long time of suffocation. Everyday as I commuted between my home and the office, I happily pedalled along the scenic route beside Lake Merritt like a child. The sensation of biking felt like flying. It was as if life had never tasted so sweet. I was singing. I felt alive again!

That year, I spent my Thanksgiving alone in an Airbnb not far from my home. It was there that I encountered a Colombian host who openly shared the stories of her three marriages, with all the ups and downs. She remained a charming and cheerful lady, undaunted by the challenges she had faced before. Her resilience through her exciting life prompted me to seriously reevaluate whether continuing my fractured marriage still made sense.

Early the next year, I filed the divorce paperwork.

Would I still marry my ex-wife if I were to able to choose again?

Yes and no. Yes, if assuming I still held the same beliefs about marriage as the first time because she was the best person to marry at that time. Nevertheless, I must admit that my perspective on marriage has evolved significantly due to my actual experience with it. Prior to getting married, I was under the assumption that there was a certain point in my life by which I had to be married, and I set that age at 30. If I had approached marriage with the philosophy I currently embrace, one that acknowledges that marriage is not a one-size-fits-all necessity, I might not have rushed into it as swiftly.

On the other side, each lesson in life comes at a cost. Without having actually gone through marriage, I would not have learned all the precious wisdoms that I’m sharing with you today. In fact, I might have succumbed to the anxiety trap that ensnares many unmarried individuals today. On one side, they feel a sense of urgency to marry when they see others of their age taking the plunge. On the other side, they are so fearful of a potential failure that they don’t really take any actions to move forward.

In my current situation, I don’t feel this pressure at all. I’ve come to understand that marriage isn’t a prerequisite of happiness for me after personally experiencing it. More over, having kids and a previous marriage has been a tremendous blessing. It bestows upon me a sense of inner peace and composure as I venture into any new relationships. I don’t feel any external pressure compelling me to act in haste; I set my own pace. I never need to rush into any marriage merely for the sake of it. I have unlimited opportunities for personal growth as I sail on this exploratory journey, one with no predetermined time horizon. It’s a truly beautiful and liberating life experience.

What is a successful marriage?

Everyone wants a successful marriage. Some want success so eagerly that they are fearful of making any mistakes. In many cultures, failure in marriage is unacceptable. A divorced man or woman is a shame. The traditional wisdom tells them that the failure of a marriage is a disaster. Therefore, in order not to make mistakes, people just keep waiting — waiting from their 20s to 30s, and then from 30s to 40s, still unmarried.

It’s okay not to be married, but it’s not okay to keep unmarried while always yearning to be married.

Failing to accomplish something is always better than failing to even make an attempt. In fact, if handled properly, the first kind of failure can be so graceful that it looks just like a success. The second kind of failure however, holds the least significance and represents the saddest situation of life.

In the end, if you never take that first step, you’re essentially sitting on the sidelines of life. How unfortunate is it to let such a precious life go to waste without even giving it a chance?

This is why I never think waiting undecidedly for anything is a wise choice. Eventually, one has to take action and see what will happen. If one takes calculated risk and embrace the uncertainties, the kind of reward can be unprecedented.

Nonetheless, taking risks always implies failures. How do we cope with failures in marriage? In my opinion, adopting an exploratory approach is a wise choice. It values the experiences gained, not just the outcome. After all, Life is a journey, not an outcome. So is marriage.

Another reason why we cannot use outcome to measure marriage is because it is a complex system with numerous attributes at play, and many of these attributes evolve over time. It is simply impossible to measure this system by a single outcome. For example, in the beginning of marriage, love is perhaps very much about physical attraction and passion, but as people age and have children, love is then transformed into other forms, such as family bonding. Which attribute should be used to measure the success of marriage? I don’t think there’s a single clear answer. We should acknowledge that a wide range of attributes measure the success of this evolving process, and we should celebrate our marriage as long as some of these attributes end up flourishing. It’s simply unrealistic to expect success in every aspect of this complex system.

Should a successful marriage always be life-long?

In some cultures, divorce has historically carried a negative stigma, though this perception has somewhat evolved. I prefer to view divorce as a tangible milestone, representing a transition to the next chapter of one’s life, much the same as a transition from singlehood to marriage.

If shorter marriages are not widely accepted by the society, the consequence would be that few individuals can make confident decisions to marry, or if they do marry, they may trade love for security, and choose marriage without love, or they may marry exceedingly late, if ever at all. None of these scenarios are desirable.

Both single and married statuses should be equally embraced, and multiple transitions between the two statues throughout one’s life could be a new norm. As long as children are cared for properly, and legal responsibilities are upheld, there’s no inherent sadness in the conclusion of a marriage. Furthermore, the former spouses can continue to keep a friendship however they feel comfortable with, and collaborate as partners in co-parenting their children.

In the future, there may be many different forms of widely recognized marriages. A life-long one may not be the sole paradigm any more. In fact, multiple shorter-term marriages throughout one’s lifetime may be very popular alternatives.

The success of a marriage is ultimately determined by how you view your life. Your life is a journey, not an outcome. You are allowed to make mistakes. A life without mistakes is guaranteed to be boring. The fun and beauty of life lies in the learnings from the mistakes. Whether the marriage is life-long or not is secondary to whether or not you have had a beautiful journey.

Thanks for reading my article. Please leave your comments and thoughts. Give it a clap or repost it in your network if you like it. If you also want to share your inspiring stories, consider writing in Build Nomadland, which aims to promote nomadic life, freedom and success. I can be reached on Linkedin for professional collaborations.

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Shijing Yao
Build Nomadland

Global Nomad, Ex-Staff Machine Learning Scientist @ Airbnb