Toxic Times

The Season That Tried to Break Us

We’ve had our fair share of toxic times. And if I’m honest, ours didn’t come one at a time — they came stacked, layered, and overlapping like life was trying to see how much weight our marriage could hold before it cracked.

Health issues. Financial trouble. Legal problems. We hit the jackpot and got all three at once. A baby on the way. A brand‑new house. A shoe contract gone overnight. A tax bill for an entire street we didn’t own. Pre‑term labor. An injury in another country. A career ending before he was ready. And two people trying to figure out life while trying to figure out each other. It wasn’t one storm. It was a weather system. And we lived in it for years.

When Everything Hit at Once

We were excited — new home, new baby, new chapter. And then life snatched the rug out from under us. His shoe contract ended. My pregnancy became high‑risk. The county tried to charge us taxes for an entire street. He got injured overseas. And the identity he’d carried for twenty years — “athlete” — disappeared overnight. He didn’t know how to say, “I’m struggling.” I didn’t know how to say, “I need help.” We were both drowning, but in different directions. The air in our house got thick. Not loud. Not chaotic. Just heavy. And that heaviness lasted a long time.

The Snowball of Toxicity

Looking back, the toxicity didn’t start with attitude — it started with identity loss. He was trying to figure out who he was without track and field. I was trying to hold everything together — the house, the baby, the finances, the fear, the future. He didn’t feel safe opening up. I didn’t feel supported. He was stuck. I was resentful. We were hurting at the same time, but not in the same way.

That’s how toxic times grow — not because you stop loving each other, but because you stop knowing how to reach each other.

What We Needed From Each Other

I needed effort — any sign of movement, any sign of trying. He needed safety — a place where he could say “I’m struggling” without fear of judgment. We were both asking for help at the same time, but neither of us could see it. That’s the brutiful truth of marriage: Two people can be hurting in opposite directions and still be reaching for each other without realizing it.

Pride Is Overrated

He said it himself: “Pride is overrated.” Pride kept him silent. Pride kept him stuck. Pride kept him from saying the one sentence that could’ve changed everything: “I’m struggling.” Humility would’ve opened the door to connection, but pride kept it locked.

And when pride stays in the room too long, toxicity grows in the corners.

Humility Goes a Long Way

Humility softens the air. Humility makes vulnerability possible. Humility makes empathy accessible. Humility makes repair realistic. But humility is hard when you’re scared. Humility is hard when you’re ashamed. Humility is hard when you don’t feel safe.

We didn’t have humility at the same time — and that made everything harder.

Resentment: Love With No Place to Go

I said it in the episode and I’ll say it again: Resentment is a thug. It will have you in a choke hold. Resentment is love with no place to go. It’s wanting something from your spouse that you’re not getting. It’s loving them deeply but having nowhere to put that love because the connection is blocked. And once resentment settles in, everything becomes heightened:

• Why you breathing so loud?

• Why your face look like that?

• Why your shoes ain’t tied?

• You left the lights on again?!

It’s never about the shoes, or the lights. It’s about the buildup.

Avoidance Fertilizes Toxicity

Disagreements don’t end marriages — avoiding them does. He was the king of not talking about it. I gave him an A+ in avoidance. Avoidance creates emotional mold. It spreads quietly. It suffocates connection. It turns small issues into big ones because nothing gets aired out.

And when avoidance meets resentment, the spiral accelerates.

The Spiral Is Real — And You Have to Name It

You don’t always catch toxicity at the beginning.

Sometimes you only notice it after you’ve bumped your head a few times.

Sometimes you only see it after you’ve walked into the same emotional wall again and again.

Recognizing the spiral is the first step.

Talking about it is the second.

Ignoring it is what keeps couples stuck.

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The Other Choke Hold: Pride, Embarrassment, Shame, Fear

Whatever keeps you from saying what you need to say will choke you. Pride. Embarrassment. Shame. Fear. Identity loss. Pressure. All of it keeps you stuck. All of it keeps you silent. All of it keeps you spiraling.

He was stuck for several years — not because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t feel safe, didn’t know who to talk to, and didn’t know how to ask for help.

Breaking the Cycle Requires Community

We grew up hearing: “What happens in this house stays in this house.” And yes — that has its place. But it also has its limits. Isolation is dangerous. Silence is dangerous. Trying to fix everything alone is dangerous.

We needed mentors. We needed best friends who told the truth. We needed people who didn’t lie to us. We needed accountability. We needed someone to say, “No, dude. This one’s on you.” We needed someone to say, “You’ve got to do better.” That’s what started our healing.

Marriage is ministry — and ministry requires community. It’s one of the reasons we started our podcast. We don’t have all the answers. We still get it wrong. We still need help. We still need people.

Praying Together: The Shift That Changed Everything

This was the turning point. My mentor told me: “You need to pray and ask the Lord to help you see him the way He sees him.” Not as the enemy. Not as the disappointment. Not as the problem. But as the gift.

Praying together wasn’t easy. It was awkward. It felt vulnerable. It felt exposed. It felt like judgment might be hiding in the corner. He didn’t want to pray out loud because he felt like his prayers didn’t sound “pastor‑level.”

I didn’t want to pray out loud because I didn’t want to feel judged. But prayer softened the hardness. Prayer increased intimacy. Prayer made vulnerability possible. Prayer made connection easier. Prayer made the toxic stuff untoxic.

Hearing him pray for me made it nearly impossible to stay hardened toward him. Hearing my heart out loud made him see me differently. Prayer changed the atmosphere in our home. And Scripture says: “Where two or three are gathered, He is in the midst.” We felt that. We needed that. We were changed by that.

Toxic Times Don’t Last Always

We were down bad. But toxic times don’t last always. Healing came through:

• Humility.

• Effort.

• Honesty.

• Community.

• Accountability.

• Prayer.

• Vulnerability.

• Softness.

• God’s presence.

If He did it for us, He can do it for you. We’re here now — stronger, softer, wiser, and grateful.