Fail, Don’t Quit

After years of failure, Steve Coruzzi finally stopped believing that he was failing his family. 

I believe at some point all of us think that we are better than everyone else in some way. A better friend, a better employee, a better driver. For me, I always thought my relationship with my wife was better and stronger than most others. We’d argue and disagree but it was usually more rationally than other couples I knew, or than my parents, who at times seems the worst match ever.

But then a true test comes. Something out of your control that pushes you and your spouse to the edge of the abyss. Some find a way to avoid it. Some don’t. And some make the choice to jump. They quit. This was me not too long ago. Standing on the edge of the abyss wanting to throw myself in to end the despair.

I don’t play golf on weekends. I don’t purposefully work late. My goal every day is to be with my family. But after a few disastrous business dealings and bankruptcy and near financial ruin, I found it difficult to even look at my family in the face. My wife and I started fighting more intensely and irrationally, which we never had before. My kids wanted to do things that cost money I didn’t have. Even by more enlightened definitions of manhood, the situation was very emasculating.

I would see news stories of people, the vast majority men, who murdered their families then take their own lives because things became so desperate. I couldn’t imagine things becoming that bad. Then I was in it. Unable to pay bills, barely able to buy groceries, debt collectors mailing, emailing, and calling. Threats from collection agencies. It was all falling apart with no hope in sight.

First we lost the car. Woke up one morning to yellow lights strobing through our bedroom window. The tow truck hooked up the new SUV and hauled it away. My kids were very young at the time and this frightened them which was heartbreaking. Then we lost the house. A beautiful Colonial built just for us. We were, as my wife now jokingly referred to us, muckity mucks. But that had ended.

We moved to a rented house one third the size to pursue another opportunity. But disaster soon followed and it failed. Then another opportunity, another move, and yet another failure. This went on for eight years.

I wanted to quit my family. In my mind I was only hurting them and seemed doomed to continue to do so. They could start fresh with someone who could properly provide for them. My wife and I actually had a terrifying conversation about splitting up. I had seriously considered leaping into the abyss to free my family from the torment I had inflicted on them. And here, writing these words, I admit out loud for the first time that the only thing that kept me from that fateful leap was that I had no life insurance to benefit them. If I had, I cannot honestly say I wouldn’t have taken that leap. For me, there is nothing more devastating than repeatedly making my wife cry and denying my kids the simplest childhood pleasures… like bikes.

So now…

Things are getting better. My wife and I are both working and making solid progress through our debt. And although we are headed yet again towards another move, I feel for the first time in years a sense of forward progress and hope.

Most importantly I realized that had I successfully quit my family I would have done more harm, not alleviated it.

My wife had saved me. With her love and understanding. She made me realize that we could face anything together. It’s not a destination of conquest to become the best couple; it’s a journey that you take together that in the end, if you’re lucky, makes you a better man.

Nine years ago we went on our honeymoon and during the flight we hit some turbulence. My wife was sick as a dog as well. We looked at each other, holding hands tightly, and jokingly and simultaneously exclaimed to each other, “Flaps! “Flaps!”—our faint attempt at coaxing the plane to calm down and level off. It became our mantra for when life dealt unsympathetic, out of control blows. I had forgotten that for a while.

So now I know that whenever I want to quit I just need to take my wife’s hand and think, “Flaps! Flaps!”

Read more on Quitting on The Good Life.

Image credit:  happyskrappy/Flickr