I’ve always believed that helping couples rediscover love and rebuild trust is a mission worth pursuing, even when it’s difficult. Over the years, I’ve shared stories, advice, and a lot of my own heart here on CoupleCompass.org. But lately, something unexpected has happened: I’ve started receiving hate mail. Some of it comes from strangers, but much of it has been from women who believe my focus on saving marriages is outdated, even harmful. They accuse me of encouraging women to stay in relationships where they aren’t valued or fulfilled, of perpetuating a narrative that sacrifices their happiness for the sake of tradition.
It’s hard to read those messages without feeling a deep, gut-wrenching sadness. One woman wrote to me, saying, “You’re the reason so many women stay trapped in loveless marriages. Your advice isn’t empowering; it’s toxic.” Another email, even more cutting, said, “You’re just another woman who’s internalized the patriarchy. Telling women to stay for the sake of their kids is dangerous and manipulative.”
I’ve spent hours thinking about these words, wondering if there’s truth in them. I’ve questioned myself, my motivations, and the advice I give. It’s heartbreaking because I’ve always seen this work as an act of love—an effort to help couples hold onto something beautiful, even when life makes it difficult. I’ve never encouraged anyone to stay in a relationship that’s abusive or destructive. I’ve tried to speak to the couples who are struggling not because they don’t love each other, but because life has worn them down and they’ve forgotten how to connect. I’ve tried to speak to the people who still want to fight for their love, even when it feels like the odds are against them.
When Advice Becomes Misunderstood
One story sticks with me in particular. A woman named Jessica reached out to me a few years ago. She was on the brink of leaving her husband, feeling overwhelmed by their constant arguments and the emotional distance between them. But she wanted to stay—not because she felt she had to, but because she remembered the love they once shared and didn’t want to give up on it. I worked with her through emails, guiding her to communicate more openly with her partner, to express her needs without fear. Months later, she wrote back to thank me. She and her husband were in a better place, closer than they’d been in years.
Then, just last week, I received another message from someone who knew Jessica. “You gave her terrible advice,” the woman wrote. “She stayed with a man who wasn’t good for her because you convinced her to fight for something that was already broken.” It’s devastating to read that, to wonder if I did more harm than good. I remember the gratitude in Jessica’s voice, but now I’m left questioning whether I missed something, whether I was too focused on saving a relationship and not enough on saving the person.
I want to tell you that these emails don’t affect me, that I brush them off and keep going without a second thought. But that would be a lie. They do affect me. They make me second-guess myself, make me wonder if I’m truly helping or if I’ve become blind to the ways my advice might hurt those who are struggling. It’s a heavy weight to carry, feeling like your words might have led someone down the wrong path.
The Fine Line Between Support and Sacrifice
There’s a delicate balance I try to walk here. I believe in the importance of fighting for your marriage, of making sacrifices for the sake of your family. I’ve seen too many relationships end because one or both partners were unwilling to put in the effort. But I also know that not every relationship should be saved. There are times when letting go is the best, the bravest thing you can do. It’s not about staying at all costs—it’s about staying when it’s right and leaving when it’s necessary. I’ve always tried to convey that, but I’m realizing now that it’s not always clear.
It’s difficult, feeling like I’ve let people down, that my words have been misunderstood or twisted. I’ve spent nights lying awake, replaying these messages in my head, wondering if I’m doing the right thing. I know it’s impossible to please everyone, and I’ve never expected to. But the hate mail feels different—it feels personal, like a rejection not just of my advice but of my entire approach to helping people.
Finding Hope in the Pain
Despite the heartbreak, I’ve found small glimmers of hope in the darkness. For every email that cuts me to the core, there’s another one from someone who found comfort, who felt seen and understood because of something I wrote. A man reached out just yesterday, thanking me for helping him reconnect with his wife after years of emotional distance. “You gave me the courage to keep trying,” he said. “And now, we’re stronger than ever.”
It’s these moments that keep me going, even when it’s hard. I’m not perfect, and I don’t have all the answers. But I do believe in the work I’m doing, even when it’s met with resistance. I believe in love, in the power of two people who choose to stand by each other, even when it’s tough. And I believe in the importance of speaking honestly, even when it leaves you vulnerable to criticism.
To those who’ve sent me hate mail, I hear you. I’m listening, and I’m taking your words to heart. I’m reflecting on what you’ve said, and I’m trying to learn from it. But I also want you to know that my intention has always been to help, to offer support to those who need it, even if that support doesn’t look the same for everyone.
And to those who’ve found comfort here, who’ve felt seen in these stories, thank you. Thank you for reminding me why I started this journey in the first place. I may not have all the answers, but I promise to keep showing up, to keep writing, and to keep believing in the power of love—even when it feels like the world is telling me to stop.