Awakening to the Truth: How a Spiritual Experience Ended My Marriage
When Marriage Fails: A Journey Through Divorce and Self-Discovery (Part 2 of 5)
Part 1
Every union starts with hope, dreams, aspirations for joy, marital bliss. Every relationship hits roadbumps, times of stress, some created by circumstance, most resulting from our reactions, pain we inflict in ignorance.
Our marriage remained through high points and low times, but beneath the facade ran a slow, steady decline, punctuated by hard crashes, inflicting wounds that wouldn’t heal.
We’d just stepped into marriage when age pressed down, making choices for us, prompting us to have a child as quickly as possible, perhaps two.
A Special Child
When our son was born, we knew something was different. He was autistic, and that reality reshaped everything.
Any dreams of an easy life vanished. We had to live on one income, as our son needed her extra attention. The State offered no financial help, leaving us swimming against a strong tide in costly Coastal SoCal.
Socially, we drifted to the margins. Other parents didn’t know what to say or how to act, and eventually, social invitations waned. Typical children preferred our son not to be around; many parents agreed, though they rarely said it out loud.
(Warning: This song induces compassion and floods of tears)
How could anyone ever tell you
you were anything less than beautiful?
How could anyone ever tell you
you were less than whole?
How could anyone fail to notice
that your loving is a miracle?
How deeply you’re connected to my soul.How Could Anyone—Shaina Noll
We moved through those gatherings like ghosts, unseen yet painfully aware. Every outing, every casual chat turned awkward when someone mentioned their child's latest triumph, then realized ours provided less to rejoice in, the distaste of pity pasted our tongues.
At first, his condition felt like the worst thing that could have happened to us, a cruel joke of an evil demon bent on tormenting us.
But as time went on, we saw it differently. With his quiet strength, that boy became the best thing we’d ever received—a gift in disguise.
In raising him, I found a side of myself I hadn’t known, a masculinity defined not by bravado but by care, patience, and unyielding love.
Whatever strength I brought to our marriage found its focus in him, and in that, I found purpose, even as the marriage relationship slowly unraveled.
If I had shown her the unconditional acceptance I showed him, my marriage would have been fabulous, live-enriching, rather than unrelenting torture.
A Sad Summary of a Forgettable Marriage
We rode the highs and weathered the lows, both of us pushed by a life that taxed us heavily. There were moments when opportunity shined bright—my career offered some good breaks, and we began to prosper, or at least thought we might. But for every gain, there was a loss. Ventures failed, money vanished, and often we found ourselves on the edge of financial ruin.
We stayed together, but more for our son than for each other. Anger settled in; we couldn’t reach forgiveness before anger would reignite, turning anger into resentment.
Even in good times, SoCal’s cost of living was a constant battle. The crash in 2008 hit my real estate work hard, launching us into a dark period that furrowed my brows. Anxiety was the houseguest who wouldn’t leave.
Later, through entrepreneurship, I made investments that promised a better future. But the benefits were distant, and the bills still came due each month. Every day was a grind, a slow burn of financial anxiety that unraveled the fabric that bound us.
Eventually, we left the coast for a more affordable, stress-free life. For me, a step toward something better, a chance to move forward. For her, a retreat, a loss of the life she knew, the weather, the rhythm, the things she loved.
At last, we made it. After years of struggle, we reached the life we had always dreamed of—a place we thought was only for others. The strain of scraping by had lifted, the financial weight that had pressed on us for so long finally eased.
We found ourselves in a community where we could settle, build a life, and set down roots. We even had the dream house, one with space and quiet, somewhere we could call ours.
Before the move, her health began to falter—sciatica that clung to her like a shadow, leaving her in constant pain for almost three years. It was agony for her, a trial for all of us.
The relief of financial stability finally arrived, we moved into the dream, finally feeling at home, but by then, the road to get there had taken its toll. Even with less stress and better health, adjusting to desert life was a challenge.
Physical touch and emotional closeness
When we first moved in together, our days ended wrapped in each other’s arms, our passion relentless, like a fire we thought would never cool. Each night was alive with intensity, and we fell asleep tangled together, bodies and hearts close.
Unfortunately, the touch that once soothed her began to keep her awake. First, it was sleeping without embracing; then, it was sleeping without touching. Ostensibly, she couldn’t sleep because it made her think about me instead of sleeping, a pleasing lie.
Finally, she moved to another room where my night breathing wouldn’t disrupt her sleep (I don’t snore). With each incremental withdrawal, the intimacy we’d shared began to drift further away.
Her desire for closeness waned, and as her health took a downturn, she wanted little more than relief from the pain, certainly not an amorous husband.
Couples rarely last long if there are significant differences in levels of desire. Frustrations mount on both sides, and one of the best opportunities for connection becomes a source of friction. Her appetite for passion faded, while mine remained, adding tension to our relationship and stranding us on different cliffs of a widening chasm.
The minor disagreements—the ordinary quarrels of daily life—started to bite harder, more challenging to brush off without the bond we’d once had. With each little pull, the connection we’d built came undone, thread by thread, until finally, there was nothing left between us but distant memories and faded hopes.
The love that once anchored us turned cold, replaced by a quiet indifference that blackened our lives.
We saw the fracture and knew that something vital had slipped away, and we tried to find our way back to each other. We went out, dressed up like we used to, and pretended the years hadn’t put miles between us.
But each time, the same old troubles crept back in, rising up like ghosts from the past, haunting whatever spark we hoped to reignite. We couldn’t shake them, couldn’t pretend the scars had faded.
Options for retirement opened up. For the first time, the horizon looked clear. We were poised for something great, but life had other plans.
I felt relief, a rare excitement for the days ahead, and I allowed myself to believe in the future.
In retrospect, I let myself feel the excitement too much.
Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time
It's something unpredictable
But in the end, it's right
I hope you had the time of your lifeGood Riddance - Green Day
Best or Worst?
When our special needs son was born, at first, we believed it was the worst thing that could have happened to us, only later to recognize the priceless value.
When I had a profound spiritual experience, I believed it was the crowning achievement of 35 years of spiritual practice, the best outcome I could imagine. Later, I discovered the price was my marriage and family life.
Loss is gain, and gain is loss: the irony of the worldly winds.
On October 30, 2023, My emotionally exuberant experience ended our marriage.
About a month earlier, I’d received life-changing financial news that promised security and ease, a vision of a bright future for us all. That excitement simmered inside me, a pressure building until it felt like it would burst.
At around 5:30 in the evening, I felt it crest—a torrent of emotions I didn’t want to hold back. Surrounded by family, safe in our home, I let it flow.
In that moment, it felt like a spiritual awakening, something people chase after at revivals or on mountaintops, seeking a connection to something larger.
But in my home, it became the breaking point. The decision not to suppress the emotional onslaught and prevent the experience became the triggering event that finally prompted her to want out.
My Experience
I felt forces brewing inside of me that were building to something. I didn’t know what it was exactly, but I strongly suspected I was about to have an intense emotional experience, a heart cleansing.
I felt curiosity and excitement envelop me, the question arose: How much love can you channel? My adventurous spirit yearned to press the limits.
I began hugging and later jumping while embracing my 22-year-old special needs son.
My son loves me unconditionally, and his love and mine combined to bring about a powerful spiritual burst.
The feelings overwhelmed me, overtook any rational thought, and the emotions poured out, raw and untamed.
I jumped. I shouted. I moved.
I let the energy flow as it would, like a dam breaking open.
I was empowered. OMG! I was really, really Empowered!!!
My heart light ignited, and I was ablaze!
Turn on your heartlight
Let it shine wherever you go
Let it make a happy glow
For all the world to seeHeartlight—Neil Diamond
In those first moments of true power, when the euphoria dulled just enough to feel the raw Qi surging through me, I could sense every chakra was blown open, the heart pulling most of the flow.
Gratitude for my training rose in me like a steadying anchor. To tame the chaos, my mind leaped to a familiar Lamrim meditation, instinctively seeking balance in the storm of energy. That meditation held the map to what was happening, grounding me, giving direction to the rush.
… through the power of our pure intention of wishing love and great accumulation of merit… Infinite light rays radiate from our body and pervade the entire universe, reaching the bodies and minds of all living beings and bestowing upon them the supreme happiness of permanent inner peace.
My heart felt like a quasar radiating light with such intensity that it outshone the entire Milky Way galaxy by a thousand times!
OMG!!!
Per my training, I held that feeling as long as I could, holding it, feeling it, watching it, marveling at the Power! It was incredible!!!
Perhaps you felt my Blessing? I assure you I did!
Imagine that experience! Blast Off!!!
I felt an emotional release like no other. Years—twenty-four of them—of financial tension, of stress, coiled tight around my nerves, vanished in an instant, never to return.
My heart was suddenly unburdened; my whole body, every cell, came alive.
My adrenaline surged, flooding me with a surge of energy that felt boundless, like life itself coursing through me, vivid and fierce.
For a while, my mind felt sharper, clearer, as if some fog had lifted and I could see straight to the heart of things.
I felt connections I hadn’t felt before, a deeper sense of who I was and how the world moved. It was elation, pure and simple, the kind that takes hold of body and spirit.
I felt magnificent—physically, mentally, every part of me alive in a way I hadn’t known possible.
Her Experience
Her experience was not as uplifting. In fact, it couldn’t have been further to the other extreme.
She was terrified.
With your nerves in tatters
As the cockleshell shatters
And the hammers batter
Down the door.
You'd better run.Run Like Hell—Pink Floyd
What I felt as a wave of life and release, she saw as something dark and dangerous. To her, it looked like madness—a psychotic break unraveling before her eyes.
She feared for herself, for our son, feared what might happen if I lost control. Her entire life, the life we’d built, seemed to be crumbling, disintegrating right there in front of her.
When I brought my son into the moment, hoping to share what felt like a revelation, her fear only deepened. She worried I might harm him, her mind racing to protect him from whatever chaos she believed was unfolding.
All she wanted was for it to stop, rewind time, and erase what she saw as a descent into madness, pretend it never happened.
Two worldviews collide
For her, the experience was a nightmare. For me, it was dream come true. We couldn’t have seen things more differently.
It was the kind of divide that swallows everything whole, a chasm too wide to cross. She and I dug in, each clinging to our own version of the truth, unable to yield.
Her Truth
For her, it had to be madness—bipolar mania. She saw my release, my elation, as nothing but a mental breakdown, a dark spiral that had terrified her. That fear consumed her, driving every angry action that followed.
In her panic, she called the police. In a state of euphoria, I needed to calmly assure three armed police I was no threat. She was unconvinced and left me alone for the night when I needed help the most.
The next day, we went to the clinic because I wanted to assure her I was in perfect health, better than ever, in fact. She was unwilling to believe the doctors who said my heart raced only with the thrill of the moment, my blood pressure high from emotion, not illness.
She pretended to be accepting, but she bided her time. She waited until I spoke with an old friend, then clandestinely took our son, and dog, and slipped away. Taking our son she justified as motherly protection, but taking the dog was pure, petty revenge, intended to be hurtful.
She was really pissed off!!!
She left me stunned, horrified, stupified. I instinctively knew this meant my marriage was over, but hope, duty, remembered love, motivated me to try to make amends.
She withheld contact, holding our child and dog for ransom until I agreed to her terms, to her demands for a hospital admission.
I knew I was fine, so I surrendered, placated her, and hoped the act would bridge the gap. But that time in the mental health hospital was a nightmare I can’t erase. If I hadn’t been so strong, that place would have broken me.
And when I emerged, holding reports from doctors who saw no illness, she dismissed them all. Her mind was set, firm in her belief, convinced that anything less was too great a risk.
With that, the marriage was lost.
She was committed to separation and divorce, no matter the consequences to her or the family, her aversion to me so strong that loneliness and destitution were preferable to our lives together.
I tried everything, going above and beyond to demonstrate wholeness and strength to save our marriage. Nothing I did mattered, and further resistance was futile. She was a machine bent on my destruction.
To her, separation and divorce seemed rational, almost prudent, a precaution taken for safety’s sake. But this certainty, this feeling of rationality and righteous justification depends entirely upon her belief, her reference frame, that says I am a weak man, buffeted by forces he can’t control, unstable, unable to support the family.
But to admit any other interpretation—a moment of spiritual awakening, a flood of life force—would mean I am none of the things she fears. Then she would have little choice but to face the harm her choices had done to both of us, taking responsibility for herself.
She hasn’t accepted that yet. And, sadly, to her own detriment, she habitually chooses resentment over understanding, acceptance, and forgiveness, so I doubt she ever will.
My Truth
I needed this to be a spiritual awakening; I needed it to be something pure and profound.
First and foremost, that’s what it felt like—a surge of energy that cracked open some new place within me. Yes, I was disoriented for a couple of days, flooded with intense emotion, but as the days passed, I felt something deepen; the event illuminated a hidden path to peace and wholeness.
Except for those initial hours of irrationality, I’ve felt incredible ever since. This experience held personal power and gave me a clarity that I carried forward, no matter the cost.
I could have denied it all, buried my truth to make peace.
I could have tried to believe her version, to see myself as broken.
I could have swallowed that notion, pretending it was just an episode of mania and nothing more. But the lie would be hollow and dangerous, leaving me fragile, less than myself—a man stripped of his core. Such a surrender would be weak, cowardly, the kind of denial that kills slowly.
She would have seen me as pathetic, unworthy, a man who’s unstable, lacking leadership confidence. And even then, she would believe what she believed; nothing would change.
For once, swallowing pride, usually a marriage best practice, was not the answer, not the solution to restore what was already gone.
But every morning, I wake up and worry
What's gonna happen today
You see it your way, I see it mine
But we both see it slipping away
You know we always had each other, baby
I guess that wasn't enough, oh-ooh-oh
But -
Oh, sweet darling
You get the best of my loveBest of My Love—The Eagles
Divorce was the Best Option
In the end, our separate needs were like repelling magnets, pushing us apart, with each of us clutching onto a version of reality that felt essential. She needed to see me as a weak man who had lost control; I needed to see myself as a strong man who’d broken through.
The marriage had no way forward, no common ground where both truths could live.
Divorce was the only path left.
Having it Both Ways
From the outside, it looks so simple. Why couldn’t it be both a spiritual awakening and a manic episode? Why does one truth need to exclude the other?
Because each of us has a vested emotional interest in rejecting the other’s worldview.
The problem with any spiritual experience is the subjectivity of it. Nobody knows what happened inside my mind and heart other than me. How I interpret my experience is for me alone to determine. Nobody can compel me to accept their interpretation of my subjective experience.
The truth of our complete freedom to interpret our own experiences is central to my spiritual practice, a truth I can’t ignore.
We can only rely on behavior to infer what’s happening in another’s mind. My behavior during the event and for a few days after was unusual. Doctors have their clinical definitions. To them, it fits under “bipolar manic episode,” ticking enough boxes that they could find a label.
However, Western medicine has no room for spirituality or subjective experience. They are trained to see only what can be measured and classified, and any intense spiritual experience becomes a symptom, a condition to be treated, usually with powerful and unnecessary drugs.
Yet, to me, the experience was more than a medical event; it changed me deeply and reshaped the core of who I am. Afterward, there was a new peace, even amid life’s upheavals. My thoughts ran clearer, sharper; I found myself more open, even drawn to others. The inward walls I’d lived behind softened.
This experience was more than an episode—it was a shift, a turning point.
In the year that’s transpired since this event, despite the upheavals and changes, I’ve remained calm and steady, and when not feeling sadness and mourning, I have been ecstatically happy, free from anxiety, and living with passion.
We held our separate truths like shields and still do. She needed to believe it was mania, a breakdown, something medical and understood. I needed to hold onto it as a breakthrough, a spiritual rise.
We couldn’t bridge that gap.
Both of us dug in, each demanding the right to interpret what happened as we saw it, unwilling to let the other’s truth stand, mocking each other for being foolish. So, we turned away from each other, leaving the marriage in fragments, fractured by the weight of our opposing beliefs.
Financial Freedom is Relationship Freedom
We reached a point of financial stability, which gave us a freedom we hadn’t felt before. For years, money had tethered us and kept us bound despite the cracks that spread through the marriage. With the security of going our separate ways, divorce was no longer an unbearable cost.
Calm facing danger
Lost, like an unknown stranger
Grateful for my time with no regrets.Close to my destination
Tired, frail and aching
Waitin' patiently for the sun to setAnd when its done believe that
I will yell it from that mountain highI was born free
Born Free—Kid Rock
Her Reasons
Divorce was suddenly a viable option, and she clutched it like a lifeline to the freedom she didn’t enjoy in our marriage.
For her, the marriage had taken too much. She’d reached a breaking point, years ago, suffering in quiet despair until Life gifted her the keys to the prison door.
She identified me as the root of her unhappiness, a source of relentless stress that had seeped into her body and mind.
She believed I could never fully accept her or appreciate who she was—not in the way she needed, and she was right. Short of divorce, I might never have shown her the acceptance she sought or realized the error of my ways.
Intimacy was another fracture. She had come to view sex as a duty, something heavy and joyless, a burden rather than a bond. Between menopause and her angry feelings, pleasing me was not high on her to-do list.
The warmth between us had cooled, and she saw no path to rekindling it. She didn’t see the spark we had at the beginning, nor could she envision a future that promised any of the joy we’d once shared.
She had a fistful of IOUs, but no pot of gold was waiting for her, only a long, empty road stretching on, and she didn’t want to walk it anymore.
Understanding her reasons and agreeing with them made it easier for me to drop the dutiful pursuit of reconciliation and let the marriage go without further resistance.
My Reasons
My reasons for leaving were just as clear and deeply felt.
I had reached for her in a rare moment of need, vulnerable and hoping for support. Instead, I met silence and cold restraint. At that moment, I felt abandoned and let down in a way that cut deep.
That moment sealed something—I saw how easily she placed her needs above mine, discounting my value to zero. In that light, I couldn’t trust her to be there for me, nor could I allow her to decide for me if I could not choose for myself.
Years of unspoken grudges festered between us, a quiet poison. Every argument, big or small, would stir up those old wounds, reigniting a fire never fully extinguished. There was no peace there, only the echo of things we couldn’t let go of.
It would never change, not with our stubbornness and need to keep control. She wanted submission from me that I couldn’t give, and I couldn’t bear her methods of holding back affection as leverage.
Our love reservoir had dried up, leaving only a mud flat, evaporated by bitterness and the absence of intimacy. If we stayed together, we’d be ghosts in each other’s lives, passing by in separate rooms, maybe sharing a few better moments here and there.
There was no spark left, no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow for me either.
A friend flatly quipped, “So she hates you, and won’t fuck you. Good reasons for divorce.” His crass and accurate assessment cut through the extraneous bullshit like only a male friend can.
And maybe I had a reason to hope for a future after divorce. I was still healthy, strong, and potentially available for a new life partnership that could grow in ways she and I never could. I had options, and I needed to take them while they were still within reach.
Our Reasons
We were both worn down, every last reserve tapped. The years had wrung us out and left us dry and exhausted. The thought of reconciling lay heavy between us—a boulder we didn’t have the strength to lift.
We could still see the faintest traces of joy, but they flickered too far in the distance, like something that belonged to other people. Years of bruised feelings and old resentments stood between us, festering wounds we never quite managed to heal.
We couldn’t see a way forward, not with those ghosts hovering close, feeding off all that was broken and unfixable. There was no promise of bliss, no final, saving light—only the cold comfort of letting go.
You can go your own way
Go your own way
You can call it
Another lonely day
You can go your own way
Go your own wayGo your own way—Fleetwood Mac
Amicable Split
We parted ways without rage or shouting, without the storm most expect from the end of two decades. We’d done the best we could, with the knowledge we had, with whatever maturity we managed to acquire. It hadn’t been enough, but it had been all we had. So we walked away, saddened but certain it was right. And when we moved to separate houses, a calm descended—a quiet relief from the everyday madness of each other.
Our son would still have us both, just ten minutes apart. We firmly agreed that his life would be sane and steady. He was why we’d stayed together for twenty years, though the love had faltered long before. We hope this peace holds for his sake. Ultimately, we aim to be kind to keep this truce. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll stay this way, amicable and calm, so our son has two parents, steady and solid, if only from a short distance away.
